How could he look upon her face in its loveliness, and talk to her as if she must be under the wrath and curse of God for the mere fact of her existence?
It seemed more natural and it certainly was more entertaining, to question her in such a way as to find out what kind of theology had grown up in her mind as the result of her training in the complex scheme of his doctrinal school.

And as he knew that the merest child, so soon as it begins to think at all, works out for itself something like a theory of human nature, he pretty soon began sounding Myrtle's thoughts on this matter.
What was her own idea; he would be pleased to know, about her natural condition as one born of a sinful race, and her inherited liabilities on that account?
Myrtle smiled like a little heathen, as she was, according to the standard of her earlier teachings.

That kind of talk used to worry her when she was a child, sometimes.

Yes, she remembered its coming back to her in a dream she had, when--when--( She did not finish her sentence.) Did he think she hated every kind of goodness and loved every kind of evil?
Did he think she was hateful to the Being who made her?
The minister looked straight into the bright, brave, tender eyes, and answered, "Nothing in heaven or on earth could help loving you, Myrtle!" Pretty well for a beginning! Myrtle saw nothing but pious fervor in this florid sentiment.

But as she was honest and clear-sighted, she could not accept a statement which seemed so plainly in contradiction with his common teachings, without bringing his flattering assertion to the test of another question.
Did he suppose, she asked, that any persons could be Christians, who could not tell the day or the year of their change from children of darkness to children of light.
The shrewd clergyman, whose creed could be lax enough on occasion, had provided himself with authorities of all kinds to meet these awkward questions in casuistical divinity.