n sight. He closed the door very gently and came
back to Araminta's bed. He drew his chair nearer and leaned over her,
speaking in a low voice, that he might not be heard.

"Araminta, my poor child," he said, "perhaps I am a heretic. I don't
know. But I do not believe that a being divine enough to be a God
could be human enough to cherish so fiendish a passion as revenge.
Look up, dear child, look up!"

Araminta turned toward him obediently, but she was still sobbing.

"It is a world of mystery," he went on. "We do not know why we come
nor where we go--we only know that we come and that eventually, we go.
Yet I do not think that any one of us nor any number of us have the
right to say what the rest of us shall believe.

"I cannot think of Heaven as a place sparsely populated by my own sect,
with a world of sinners languishing in flames below. I think of Heaven
as a sunny field, where clover blooms and birds sing all day. There
are trees, with long, cool shadows where the weary may rest; there is a
crystal stream where they may forget their thirst. I do not think of
Heaven as a place of judgment, but rather of pardon and love.

"Punishment there is, undoubtedly, but it has seemed to me that we are
sufficiently punished here for all we do that is wrong. We don't
intend to do wrong, Araminta--we get tired, and things and people worry
us, and we are unjust. We are like children afraid in the dark; we
live in a world of doubting, we are made the slaves of our own fears,
and so we shirk."

"But the burning," said Araminta, wiping her eyes. "Is nobody ever to
be burned?"

"The God I worship," answered Thorpe, passionately, "never could be
cruel, but there are many gods, it seems, and many strange beliefs.
Listen, Araminta. Whom do you love most?"

"Aunt Hitty?" she questioned.

"No, you don't have to say that if it isn't so. You can be honest with
me. Who, of all the world, is nearest to you? Whom would you choose to
be with you always, if you could have only one?"

"Doctor Ralph!" cried Araminta, her eyes shining.

"I thought so," replied Thorpe. "I don't know that I blame you. Now
suppose Doctor Ralph did things that hurt you; that there was continual
misunderstanding and distrust. Suppose he wronged you, cruelly, and
apparently did everything he could to distress you and make you
miserable. Could you condemn him to a lake of fire?"

"Why, no!" she cried. "I'd know he never meant to do it!"