nder through the shadows of eternity, away from God, away
from hope, away from love? Oh, come, while still those arms are open to
you; come, before the day of grace has darkened into night; come, before
relentless Justice bars the way with a flaming sword. O Soul, Christ
waits!"

He stood a moment, leaning forward, his hands clasped upon the big Bible,
and his face full of trembling and passionate pleading. Then he said,
with a long, indrawn breath, "Let us pray!"

The people rose, and stood with bowed heads through the short, eager,
earnest prayer. Then the preacher gave out the hymn, and there was the
rustle of turning to face the choir. The quaint, doleful tune of Windham
wailed and sobbed through the words,--

"The burden of our weighty guilt
Would sink us down to flames;
And threatening vengeance rolls above,
To crush our feeble frames!"

The choir sang with cheerful heartiness; it was a relief from the tension
of the sermon, a reaction to life, and hope, and healthy humanness after
these shadows of death. It all seemed part of a dream to Helen: the two
happy-faced girls standing in the choir, with bunches of apple-blossoms
in the belts of their fresh calico dresses, and the three young farmers
who held the green singing-books open, all singing heartily together,--

"'Tis boundless, 'tis amazing love,
That bears us up from hell!"

Helen watched them with fascinated curiosity; she wondered if they could
believe what they had just heard. Surely not; or how could they know a
moment's happiness, or even live!

After the benediction had been pronounced she walked absently down the
aisle, and went at once to her horse under the flickering shadows of the
chestnuts. Here she waited for John, one hand twisted in the gray's mane,
and with the other switching at the tall grass with her riding-whip. Only
a few of the people knew her, but these came to speak of the sermon. One
woman peered at her curiously from under her big shaker bonnet. The
stories of Mr. Ward's wife's unbelief had traveled out from Lockhaven.
"Wonderful how some folks could stand against such doctrine!" she said;
"and yet they must know it's a sin not to believe in everlasting
punishment. I believe it's a mortal sin, don't you, Mrs. Ward?"

"No," Helen said quietly.

CHAPTER XVIII.

They rode quite silently to the house of the minister with whom John had
exchanged, where they were to dine; after that, the preacher