“Papa,” she said, “I do not think it is Eustace’s Radical views which repel me, except in so far as they are bound up in those which to me are both sinful and sad. I know that he has the welfare of this land and its people as much at heart as you; that he loves his country and the poor in it as we love them; that he wishes to raise and teach and make them better and happier. I know he would spend his life and his fortune in the cause and grudge it nothing if good could be done. There is a great deal that I admire and love in Eustace; but, ah! I cannot divide into two distinct parts his political views and those other views of his which are so integral a part of his character. To me they seem interlocked at every point, and therefore at every point I see something which repels me--something which I shrink from--something which seems to me untrue and evil in essence, even though on the surface so much may be said for it. I do not know if you understand me. Sometimes I scarcely understand myself--hardly know how to put my thoughts into words; but they are there, always with me; and the more I think, the less I can feel that the two things can ever be altogether divided.” “What two things?” asked the Duke. “I do not think I follow you.” “I mean, papa, the spiritual and the intellectual side of our nature. You know we have a threefold nature--body, soul, and spirit; but yet it is all one, and I think people make a great mistake when they seek to try and divide the physical and the intellectual from the spiritual. Eustace does--in practice, if not in theory. He wishes to gain for the poor an improved condition of bodily comfort, and I am sure this is a kindly and a right wish. He has told me things that make my blood curdle about the awful misery and want reigning in many places. He wants to raise men intellectually, to think for themselves, to learn many things which will help in their advancement, to strive after a better standard, and to be disgusted at their present ignorance and degradation. But having done that, he stops short. He has no wish to quicken in their spirits the love of God, which would purify these other desires and hold in check the baser passions they so often arouse without that curb. Of their spirits he takes no heed--how should he, when he does not even admit that there is an inner and spiritual life--when he is content to remain in ignorance of everything beyond the limits of his own understanding, and to assert that nothing can be positively taught as truth which cannot be proved by the finite intellect of man? I may not put his case quite justly, because he does not speak of these things openly to me. He tries to pass them over in vague words, and keep the talk to ‘practical matters.’ But I have heard enough to know what he does think--to know that he has no faith in the Crucified Saviour--in an Incarnate God--in a Sanctifying Spirit; and without that faith, how can he hope to lead men aright? Ah! he will never do it!”