“No, it won’t keep two minutes. Now, mind, I’m in earnest, so don’t aggravate me.”
“Very well, my dear, what do you want to talk to me about?” said he, trying to suppress a yawn.
“I just want to talk to you about Providence.”
Mr Wiseman turned his eyes sharply to his wife’s face. “I think, my dear, that if you were to lie down, perhaps, you might feel better. Shall I get you a few drops of sal volatile?”
“Look here, Joe. If you want to make me just mad you will go on like that. I’m not sick, and I’m not dreaming, and you’ll hear what I have to say if I have to make you sit here all night. I want you to tell me, on your word as a man and a minister, whether you think that Providence made old Mr Lobbins choose me as his wife and selected Miss Perkins for you to marry?”
“Well, my dear, it’s rather an important—”
“Now, Joe, I’ll have a direct answer, or else you don’t get to sleep again to-night. Did Providence specially ordain it?”
“Well, my dear, Providence at least permitted it, that is quite certain.”
“Permitted fiddlesticks! Doesn’t Providence in the same way permit of getting drunk, and stealing, and—and—doing all sorts of wicked things?”
“Quite true, my dear; it is all very mysterious. We can never hope to understand why evil is permitted, but we must not forget that, together with permitting evil, Providence provides the remedy. Even I, in my humble sphere of ministration, must look upon myself as an instrument provided by Providence to correct the evil I see around me. That is the great mercy, that next to the evil lies the means by which it may be counteracted.”