loved a
daughter."

"Promise me that nothing shall ever deprive you of a full confidence
in my affection."

"I should be most wretched, could I think it possible."

"But suppose I should kill you this instant?"

"Dear father, this is horrid! You are incapable of entertaining a
thought of evil towards me."

"You are right, Faith, but only suppose it."

"I cannot have such a thought of my own father! It is impossible. I
would sooner die than admit it into my mind."

"I am satisfied. Under no circumstances can you conceive a thought
of evil of me. But this is a strange world, and the strangest things
happen in it. I speak in this way because I do not know what may come
to pass next. I have always loved my fellow-men, and desired their
good opinion, and the idea of forfeiting it, either through my own
fault or theirs, is painful to me. But men judge so absurdly! They
look only at the outside. They are so easily deceived by appearances!
Do you know, that of late I have thought there was a great deal of
confusion in the ordinary way of men's thinking? But I see clearly the
cause of the errors into which they are perpetually falling. All the
discord arises from having wills of their own. Do you not think so?"

"Religion teaches, father, that our wills are sources of unhappiness
only when opposed to the Divine will."

"I knew you would agree with me. And then think of the folly of it.
The resistance must be ineffectual. That is a sweet song you sung,
but it seems to me the theology of it is not altogether correct.
It celebrates only the love of God, and is, therefore, partial and
one-sided. He is also a consuming fire."

"A consuming fire to destroy what is evil."

"I hope it is so. But do you know that I have been a good deal
troubled lest there might be truth in the doctrine, that Necessity, an
iron Necessity, you understand, might control God himself?"

"Why will you distress yourself with these strange speculations,
father? There are some things, it was intended, we should not know."

"Why," continued Armstrong, "it is an opinion that has been
entertained for thousands of years, and by the wisest men. The old
philosophers believed in it, and I do not know how otherwise to
explain the destiny of the elect and reprobate. For you see, Faith,
that if God could make all men happy, he would. But he does not."

"I think we ought not to engage our minds in such thoughts," said
Faith. "They cannot make us wiser or