"I shall have the worst of it if I try to go into definitions again," he said smiling. "I think you will find what I mean, in consulting your own thoughts."
"Goodness?" said Faith again. "Do you remember the silver scale-armour of that Lepisma, Dr. Harrison? That is perfection. That is what God means by goodness—not the outside things that every eye, or your own, can see;—but when the far-down, far-back thoughts and imaginations of your heart will bear such looking at and be found faultless! Less than that, God will not take from you, if you are going to heaven by your own goodness."
He looked at her. They had changed sides; and as fearless now as he, she was the speaker, and he had little to say.
"I don't know much about these things, Miss Faith," he answered soberly.
"I don't know much, Dr. Harrison," she said humbly. "But think what you were near the other day."
"I don't know!"—said he, as if making a clean breast of it. She paused.
"Dr. Harrison, will a wise man leave such a matter in uncertainty?"
"I am not wise," said he. "I am ignorant—in this."
"You know you need not remain so."
"That is not so certain! I have seen so much—of what you have seen so little, my dear Miss Derrick, that you can scarce understand how light the weight of most people's testimony is to me."