After a few minutes' silence, he continued:--“This is a question I have thought over deeply. I have my own opinion concerning it, and I know that of most men; but I should like to hear a woman's--a Christian woman's. Tell me, do you believe the avenger of blood walks through the Christian world, as through the land of Israel, requiring retribution; that for blood-shedding as for all other crimes, there is, in this world, whatever there may be in another, expiation, but no pardon. Think well, answer slowly, for it is a momentous question.”
“I know that--the one question of our times.”
Doctor Urquhart bent his head without replying. He hardly could speak; I never saw him so terribly in earnest. His agitation roused me from the natural shyness I have in lifting up my own voice and setting forth my own girlish opinion on topics of which every one has a right to think, but very few to speak.
“I believe that in the Almighty's gradual teaching of His creatures, a Diviner than Moses brought to us a higher law--in which the sole expiation required is penitence, with obedience: “_Repent ye? “Go and sin no more?_ It appears to me, so far as I can judge and read here”--my Bible was still in my hand--“that throughout the New, and in many parts of the Old Testament, runs one clear doctrine, namely, that any sin, however great, being repented of and forsaken, is by God, and ought to be by man, altogether pardoned, blotted out and done away.”
For the second time he said to me those words--said them twice over, and left me.
Rather abruptly; but he is sometimes abrupt when thinking deeply of anything.
Thus ended our little talk: yet it left a pleasant impression. True, the subject was strange enough; my sisters might have been shocked at it; and at my freedom in asking and giving opinions. But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort--the inexpressible comfort of feeling _safe_ with a person--having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.