"
He spoke with coolness, but it was by a powerful effort: he had
waked from a frightful dream, drenched from head to foot. Coward?
No. He had reason to fear.
"Whereas," rejoined Mary, taking up his clew, "everybody will be
the better if you keep out of it--everybody," she repeated, "--
God, and Jesus Christ, and all their people."
"How do you make that out?" he asked. "God has more to do than
look after such as me."
"You think he has so many worlds to look to--thousands of them
only making? But why does he care about his worlds? Is it not
because they are the schools of his souls? And why should he care
for the souls? Is it not because he is making them children--his
own children to understand him and be happy with his happiness?"
"I can't say I care for his happiness. I want my own. And yet I
don't know any that's worth the worry of it. No; I would rather
be put out like a candle."
"That's because you have been a disobedient child, taking your
own way, and turning God's good things to evil. You don't know
what a splendid thing life is. You actually and truly don't know,
never experienced in your being the very thing you were made
for."
"My father had no business to leave me so much money."
"You had no business to misuse it."
"I didn't _quite_ know what _I_ was doing."
"You do now."
Then came a pause.
"You think God hears prayer--do you?"
"I do.
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