d deny Himself, as we know, in the past, has He not still
to suffer as He looks on at the wickedness and sinful passions of the
sons of men? The universe is not absolutely happy, perfect--would that
it were! And so this law of suffering runs through everything and
assails everybody. None can hope to escape. We--ministers of the
Gospel--we do not question this; we recognize that it is so, and all we
can do is to impress it upon you who listen to us. I have tried to do
this; I have preached upon this--that to each individual man, woman and
child, there comes--there must and will come a time, when material
success, health, wealth and happiness are non-important, and when moral
issues, when duty, character and conduct are the great essential facts
of life to be met and grappled with. You--Poussette--have been no
exception to this rule in the past--you know the habit of life to which
I refer--and now here is this new trial, this new difficulty about your
wife. Even were I able to do anything for you--because it is a lawyer,
a notary you require, not a minister--I could have nothing to do with
your marrying again. That--I must tell you plainly--is out of the
question. It is not good for man--some men--to live alone; my Church,
my Bible tell me this, and may be I am learning to know it from
experience of such cases as yours; but once married, and married to one
in whom there is no fault, you must not seek to lightly undo what God
and the sacraments of the Church in which you were united have wrought.
I fear, Poussette, that in leaving Father Rielle and coming to me, you
were not acting honestly, openly."

Poussette, in admiration of his hero's beautiful pastoral diction, felt
no resentment and exhibited no temper. "No fault!" he exclaimed. "Ah,
but there--that is not so, Mr. Ringfield. Look, sir, look now, there
is fault enough--beeg fault--what I have said. That is enough, and I
have plenty monee to make it more than enough."

"Money--money!" Ringfield exclaimed in his turn, "The root of many
kinds of evil. How much money have you, my friend? You are accounted
rich, as it goes in St. Ignace, at Bois Clair, in Hawthorne, but in
Quebec, in Three Rivers, in Montreal--no! You would soon find the
difference. The rich man of the country might easily become the poor
man of the town; living is expensive there--you might find your
business here--I mean the mill--not pay so well with you absent; in
short, Poussette, y