fine it better than belief and trust in
God," said Redbud.

These were the words which Verty had written on the paper.

The glance of the lawyer fell upon the young man's face, and from
it passed to the innocent countenance of Redbud. She had evidently
uttered the words without the least thought of the similarity.

"Humph," said the lawyer, frowning, "that is very fine, Miss; but
suppose we cannot see anything to give us a very lively--faith, as you
call it."

"Oh, but you may, sir!"

"How?"

"Everywhere there are evidences of God's goodness and mercy. You
cannot doubt that."

A shadow passed over the rough face.

"I do doubt it," was on his lips, but he could not, rude as he was,
utter such a sentence in presence of the pure, childlike girl.

"Humph," he said, with his habitual growl, "suppose a man is made
utterly wretched in this world--"

"Yes, sir."

"And without any fault of his own suffers horribly," continued the
lawyer, sternly.

"We are all faulty, sir."

"I mean--did anybody ever hear such reasoning! Excuse me, but I am a
little out of sorts," he growled, apologetically--"I mean that you
may suppose a man to suffer some peculiar torture--torture, you
understand--which he has not deserved. I suppose that has happened;
how can such a man have your faith, and love, and trust, and all
that--if we must talk theology!" growled the bearish speaker.

"But, Mr. Rushton," said Redbud, "is not heaven worth all the world
and its affections?"

"Yes--your heaven is."

"_My_ heaven--?"

"Yes, yes--heaven!" cried the lawyer, impatiently--"everybody's heaven
that chooses. But you were about to say--"

"This, sir: that if heaven is so far above earth, and those who are
received there by God, enjoy eternal happiness--"

"Very well!"

"That this inestimable gift is cheaply bought by suffering in this
world;--that the giver of this great good has a right to try even to
what may seem a cruel extent, the faith and love of those for whom he
decrees this eternal bliss. Is not that rational, sir?"

"Yes, and theological--what, however, is one to do if the said love
and faith sink and disappear--are drowned in tears, or burnt up in the
fires of anguish and despair."

"Pray, sir," said Redbud, softly.

The lawyer growled.

"To whom? To a Being whom we have no faith in--whom such a man has no
faith in, I mean to say--to the hand that struck--which we can
only think of as armed with an avenging sword, or