his share, and that the infinitely greater share;--suppose next,
that God saw the germ of a pure affection, say in your friend and
his wife, but saw also that it was a germ so imperfect and weak that
it could not encounter the coming frosts and winds of the world
without loss and decay, while, if they were parted now for a few
years, it would grow and strengthen and expand, to the certainty of
an infinitely higher and deeper and keener love through the endless
ages to follow--so that by suffering should come, in place of
contented decline, abortion, and death, a troubled birth of joyous
result in health and immortality;--suppose all this, and what then?"

Faber was silent a moment, then answered,

"Your theory has but one fault: it is too good to be true."

"My theory leaves plenty of difficulty, but has no such fault as
that. Why, what sort of a God would content you, Mr. Faber? The one
idea is too bad, the other too good to be true. Must you expand and
pare until you get one exactly to the measure of yourself ere you
can accept it as thinkable or possible? Why, a less God than that
would not rest your soul a week. The only possibility of believing
in a God seems to me to lie in finding an idea of a God large
enough, grand enough, pure enough, lovely enough to be fit to
believe in."

"And have you found such--may I ask?"

"I think I am finding such."

"Where?"