Don’t be angry with him or disappointed. You know, it’s a hard thing to die for all of us. Generally one’s vitality is lowered so that life seems rather a burden, and it’s not very hard then to make a seemly end. But poor father’s got something much more difficult to face.
Mrs. Wharton.
He’s been supported all his life by his confidence in the great truths of our religion. Oh, John, it’s so dreadful that just at this moment, when he must put them all to the test, he should falter. It’s almost a betrayal of the God who loves him.
John.
My dear, you can’t imagine that God won’t understand? What do these last weeks matter beside a life that has been cheerful and innocent, devout, unselfish, and dutiful? We were talking about it the other day, don’t you remember? And I claimed that a man should be judged by what he believed and did in the heyday of his strength, and not by what was wrung from him in a moment of anguish. Pray that God may give my father courage and resignation.
Mrs. Wharton.
How can you ask me to pray, John, when you don’t believe in God?
John.
Pray all the same, my dear, and for me too.
Mrs. Wharton.