She was one of those--not very few I
think--who from conjunction of a lovely conscience with an
ill-instructed mind, are doomed for a season to much suffering. She
was largely different from her friend: the religious opinions of the
latter--they were in reality rather metaphysical than religious, and
bad either way--though she clung to them with all the tenacity of a
creature with claws, occasioned her not an atom of mental
discomposure: perhaps that was in part why she clung to them! they
were as she would have them! She did not trouble herself about what
God required of her, beyond holding the doctrine the holding of
which guaranteed, as she thought, her future welfare. Conscience
toward God had very little to do with her opinions, and her heart
still less. Her head on the contrary, perhaps rather her memory,
was considerably occupied with the matter; nothing she held had ever
been by her regarded on its own merits--that is, on its individual
claim to truth; if it had been handed down by her church, that was
enough; to support it she would search out text after text, and
press it into the service. Any meaning but that which the church of
her fathers gave to a passage must be of the devil, and every man
opposed to the truth who saw in that meaning anything but truth! It
was indeed impossible Miss Carmichael should see any meaning but
that, even if she had looked for it; she was nowise qualified for
discovering truth, not being herself true.
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