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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

He can help you too by taking away the
body and its nature together."
"You're a fine comforter! God will help me to be good by taking away
my life! A nice encouragement to try! Hadn't I better kill myself
and save him the trouble!"
"It's not the dying, uncle! no amount of dying would ever make one
good. It might only make it less difficult to be good."
"But I might after all refuse to be good! I feel sure I should! He
had better let me alone!"
"God can do more than that to compel us to be good--a great deal
more than that! Indeed, uncle, we must repent."
He said no more for some minutes; then suddenly spoke again.
"I suppose you mean to marry that rascal of a tutor!" he said.
She started up, and called Donal. But to her relief he did not
answer: he was fast asleep.
"He would not thank you for the suggestion, I fear," she said,
sitting down again. "He is far above me!"
"Is there no chance for Forgue then?"
"Not the smallest. I would rather have died where you left me
than--"
"If you love me, don't mention that!" he cried. "I was not
myself--indeed I was not! I don't know now--that is, I can't believe
sometimes I ever did it."
"Uncle, have you asked God to forgive you!"
"I have--a thousand times."
"Then I will never speak of it again."
In general, however, he was sullen, cantankerous, abusive. They were
all compassionate to him, treating him like a spoiled, but not the
less in reality a sickly child.


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