e
life an absolute good--not a mere accommodation of difficulties, not a
mere preponderance of the balance on the side of well-being. Love only
could have been able to create. But they don't seem jealous for the
glory of God, those men. They don't mind a speck, or even a blot, here
and there upon him. The world doesn't make them miserable. They can get
over the misery of their fellow-men without being troubled about them,
or about the God that could let such things be. [7] They represent a God
who does wonderfully well, on the whole, after a middling fashion. I
want a God who loves perfectly. He may kill; he may torture even; but if
it be for love's sake, Lord, here am I. Do with me as thou wilt.'

Had Ericson forgotten that he had no proof of such a God? The next
moment the intellectual demon was awake.

'But what's the good of it all?' he said. 'I don't even know that there
is anything outside of me.'

'Ye ken that I'm here, Mr. Ericson,' suggested Robert.

'I know nothing of the sort. You may be another phantom--only clearer.'

'Ye speik to me as gin ye thocht me somebody.'

'So does the man to his phantoms, and you call him mad. It is but a
yielding to the pressure of constant suggestion. I do not know--I cannot
know if there is anything outside of me.'

'But gin there warna, there wad be naebody for ye to love, Mr. Ericson.'

'Of course not.'

'Nor naebody to love you, Mr. Ericson.'

'Of course not.'

'Syne ye wad be yer ain God, Mr. Ericson.'

'Yes. That would follow.'

'I canna imagine a waur hell--closed in amo' naething--wi' naething a'
aboot ye, luikin' something a' the time--kennin' 'at it 's a' a lee, and
nae able to win clear o' 't.'

'It is hell, my boy, or anything worse you can call it.'

'What for suld ye believe that, than, Mr. Ericson? I wadna believe sic
an ill thing as that. I dinna think I cud believe 't, gin ye war to pruv
't to me.'

'I don't believe it. Nobody could prove that either, even if it were so.
I am only miserable that I can't prove the contrary.'

'Suppose there war a God, Mr. Ericson, do ye think ye bude (behoved) to
be able to pruv that? Do ye think God cud stan' to be pruved as gin he
war something sma' eneuch to be turned roon' and roon', and luikit at
upo' ilka side? Gin there war a God, wadna it jist be sae--that we cudna
prove him to be, I mean?'

'Perhaps. That is something. I have often thought of that. But then you
can't prove anything about it.'

'I