“Believe,” echoed the doctor. “_You_ are the real infidel. Do you believe in the divine nature of Christ? Of course you do not; for if you did, you would have more respect for his morality and magnanimity of character. Do you believe in your heaven? You have no shadow of real faith in it, and you know it in your own heart, for it is a place where this same unhappy girl may be your equal or superior, according to your own scheme of salvation; and you know you would prefer annihilation to any such democratic mixing of saint and sinner. Do you think you can make me think you believe in hell, when you coolly run the risk of its terrors by turning against the suffering wretches whom Christ helped and befriended? Oh, Fannie! you have no religion in your heart, for you have no love for humanity; or, call it religion if you like, and say you have no honest human sympathy, and no faith that can triumph over the little expedients and conventional proprieties of the day.” “I do not wish to manifest levity, but it does seem to me amusing to hear _you_ talk of faith.” At another time the doctor would have ceased in despair; but it is so hard to believe absolutely that those allied to us by many tender ties, can never respect our most sacred convictions; besides, the doctor’s sense of human justice was outraged, and he had not yet given full vent to his righteous indignation. “I will not try to show you that I have a faith which you can never comprehend. It would be useless,” he said, “but I can tell you, though you could never persuade me to cant and howl among your pious herd, that I respect Christ and his example as I respect the dignity of all sympathy for human misery; and I shall prove it by standing by this unhappy girl. I am none the less ready to do so because her suffering is caused by a knave whom I had the misfortune to beget.” “Why, I never heard any one utter such language!” exclaimed Mrs. Forest; “but it is useless to reason with you, when you are in a passion. For my part, I think ‘charity begins at home.’” “Yes, I know you do; and according to your creed, it not only begins but ends there also.” “Would you sacrifice the prospects of your children to protect a shameless girl?” “I’d sacrifice anything and everything on earth to show my faith in the triumph of justice. Besides, this girl is not shameless. She has a noble nature. She told Dan to his face that he would never marry Susie Dykes—this when she found he would marry her, but only as a duty. Yes, madam, you can now measure my faith, which you despise, and see what it is worth beside yours. Let what will come, I shall stand by this girl. Life, with the consciousness that I have acted like a cur, is not worth having. Now you had better go and pray for grace to do unto others as you would have others do unto you;” and the doctor burst into a bitter laugh, as the door closed behind her who had come with wifely tenderness to sleep by his side.