human
You must come to bed, Angus dear. I have arranged with Mr. Hinton, and he will sit up with our little lad for the next few hours.
gpt
I could not sleep, Lottie, answered the husband.
human
God is coming to take away our child and I can't say, 'Thy will be done.'
gpt
You can't!
human
No Lottie; you called God cruel downstairs, and now He looks cruel to me. I can't give Him my first-born. I can't say 'Thy will be done;' but oh! continued the wretched man,
gpt
No, no, no! suddenly almost shrieked the wife;
human
she repeated; and now she had flung her arms round her husband and was straining him to her heart.
gpt
Oh, my darling! my beloved! you were never, never, never, so near to me, so dear to me, as now. God does not want you to say that, Angus. Angus, it is _not_ God's will that our child should die, it is Satan's will, not God's. God is love, and it can't be love to torture us, and tear our darling away from us like that. The will of God is righteousness, and love, and happiness; not darkness, and death, and misery. Oh, Angus! let us both kneel here and say, 'Thy will be done,' for I believe the will of God will be to save the child.