“Should he then who called them into existence be limited in his further intents for the perfecting of their creation, by their notions concerning themselves who cannot add to their life one cubit?--such notions being often consciously dishonest? If he knows them worthless without something that he can give, shall he withhold his hand because they do not care that he should stretch it forth? Should a child not be taught to ride because he is content to run on foot?” “But the means, according to your own theory, are so frightful!” said Clementina. “But suppose he knows that the barest beginnings of the good he intends them would not merely reconcile them to those means, but cause them to choose his will at any expense of suffering! I tell you, Lady Clementina,” continued Malcolm, rising, and approaching her a step or two, “if I had not the hope of one day being good like God himself, if I thought there was no escape out of the wrong and badness I feel within me and know I am not able to rid myself of without supreme help, not all the wealth and honours of the world could reconcile me to life.” “You do not know what you are talking of,” said Clementina, coldly and softly, without lifting her head. “I do,” said Malcolm. “You mean you would kill yourself but for your belief in God?” “By life, I meant _being_, my lady. If there were no God, I dared not kill myself, lest worse should be waiting me in the awful voids beyond. If there be a God, living or dying is all one--so it be what he pleases.” “I have read of saints,” said Clementina, with cool dissatisfaction in her tone, “uttering such sentiments,”----“_Sentiments!_” said Malcolm to himself----“--and I do not doubt such were felt or at least imagined by them; but I fail to understand how, even supposing these things true, a young man like yourself should, in the midst of a busy world, and with an occupation which, to say the least,----” Here she paused. After a moment Malcolm ventured to help her. “Is so far from an ideal one--would you say, my lady?” “Something like that,” answered Clementina, and concluded,--“I wonder how _you_ can have arrived at such ideas.” “There is nothing wonderful in it, my lady,” returned Malcolm. “Why should not a youth, a boy, a child--for as a child I thought about what the kingdom of heaven could mean--desire with all his might that his heart and mind should be clean, his will strong, his thoughts just, his head clear, his soul dwelling in the place of life? Why should I not desire that my life should be a complete thing, and an outgoing of life to my neighbour? Some people are content not to do mean actions: I want to become incapable of a mean thought or feeling; and so I shall be before all is done.” “Still, how did you come to begin so much earlier than others?” “All I know as to that, my lady, is that I had the best man in the world to teach me.” “And why did not I have such a man to teach me? I could have learned of such a man too.”