"More than send his son to die for your sins?"
"More than you say that means."
"You have but to believe Christ did so."
"I don't know that he died for my sins."
"He died for the sins of the whole world."
"Then I must be saved!"
"Yes, if you believe that he made atonement for your sins."
"Then I cannot be saved except I believe that I shall be saved. And I cannot believe I shall be saved until I know I shall be saved!"
"You are cavilling, Arctura! Ah, this is what you have been learning of Mr. Grant! I ought not to have gone away!"
"Nothing of the sort!" said Arctura, drawing herself up a little. "I am sorry if I have said anything wrong; but really I can get hold of nothing! I feel sometimes as if I should go out of my mind."
"Arctura, I have done my best for you! If you think you have found a better teacher, no warning, I fear, will any longer avail!"
"If I did think I had found a better teacher, no warning certainly would; I am only afraid I have not. But of one thing I am sure--that the things Mr. Grant teaches are much more to be desired than--"
"By the unsanctified heart, no doubt!" said Sophia.
"The unsanctified heart," rejoined Arctura, astonished at her own boldness, and the sense of power and ******* growing in her as she spoke, "surely needs God as much as the sanctified! But can the heart be altogether unsanctified that desires to find God so beautiful and good that it can worship him with its whole power of love and adoration? Or is God less beautiful and good than that?"
"We ought to worship God whatever he is."
"But could we love him with all our hearts if he were not altogether lovable?"
"He might not be the less to be worshipped though he seemed so to us. We must worship his justice as much as his love, his power as much as his justice."
Arctura returned no answer; the words had fallen on her heart like an ice-berg. She was not, however, so utterly overwhelmed by them as she would have been some time before; she thought with herself, "I will ask Mr. Grant! I am sure he does not think like that! Worship power as much as love! I begin to think she does not understand what she is talking about! If I were to make a creature needing all my love to make life endurable to him, and then not be kind enough to him, should I not be cruel? Would I not be to blame? Can God be God and do anything conceivably to blame--anything that is not altogether beautiful? She tells me we cannot judge what it would be right for God to do by what it would be right for us to do: if what seems right to me is not right to God, I must wrong my conscience and be a sinner in order to serve him! Then my conscience is not the voice of God in me! How then am I made in his image? What does it mean? Ah, but that image has been defaced by the fall! So I cannot tell a bit what God is like? Then how am I to love him? I never can love him! I am very miserable! I am not God's child!
Thus, long after Miss Carmichael had taken a coldly sorrowful farewell of her, Arctura went round and round the old mill-horse rack of her self-questioning: God was not to be trusted in until she had done something she could not do, upon which he would take her into his favour, and then she could trust him! What a God to give all her heart to, to long for, to dream of being at home with! Then she compared Miss Carmichael and Donal Grant, and thought whether Donal might not be as likely to be right as she. Oh, where was assurance, where was certainty about anything! How was she ever to know? What if the thing she came to know for certain should be--a God she could not love!
