I don't know what God
had to do with my mother being so good! She was none of your canting
sort!"
"There is an old story," said Donal, "of a man who was the very
image of God, and ever so much better than the best of women."
"He couldn't have been much of a man then!"
"Were you ever afraid, my lord?"
"Yes, several times--many a time."
"That man never knew what fear was."
"By Jove!"
"His mother was good, and he was better: your mother was good, and
you are worse! Whose fault is that?"
"My own; I'm not ashamed to confess it!"
"Would to God you were!" said Donal: "you shame your mother in being
worse than she was. You were made in the image of God, but you don't
look like him now any more than you look like your mother. I have a
father and mother, my lord, as like God as they can look!"
"Of course! of course! In their position there are no such
temptations as in ours!"
"I am sure of one thing, my lord--that you will never be at any
peace until you begin to show the image in which you were made. By
that time you will care for nothing so much as that he should have
his way with you and the whole world."
"It will be long before I come to that!"
"Probably; but you will never have a moment's peace till you begin.
It is no use talking though. God has not made you miserable enough
yet."
"I am more miserable than you can think.
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