Such a question from such a woman "must give us pause." And, as I
paused, the thought of certain animals flashed into my mind and I could not
insist that God had never made anything ugly.
"No. I am not sure of it," I answered. For of all things my soul recoiled
from, any professional pretence of knowing more than I did know seemed to
me the most repugnant to the spirit and mind of the Master, whose servants
we are, or but the servants of mere priestly delusion and self-seeking.
"But if he does," I went on to say, "it must be that we may see what it is
like, and therefore not like it."
Then, unwilling all at once to plunge with her into such an abyss as the
question opened, I turned the conversation to an object on which my eyes
had been for some time resting half-unconsciously. It was the sort of stool
or bench on which my guide had been sitting. I now thought it was some kind
of box or chest. It was curiously carved in old oak, very much like the
ends of the benches and book-boards.
"What is that you were sitting on?" I asked. "A chest or what?"
"It be there when we come to this place, and that be nigh fifty years
agone, sir.
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