ad.

"What does he mean?" cried Helen, her voice trembling with anger, and
careless whether the retreating minister overheard her. John gave her a
long, tender look.

"Dearest," he said, "I am sorry he should have spoken as he did, but the
prayers of a good man"--

"I don't want his prayers," she interrupted, bewildered; "it seems to me
simply impertinence!"

"Helen," he said, "it cannot be impertinence to pray for a soul in
danger, as yours is, my darling. I cannot tell how he knew it, but it is
so. It is my sin which has kept you blind and hidden the truth from you,
and how can I be angry if another man joins his prayers to mine for your
eternal salvation?"

"You say this because I do not believe in eternal punishment, John?" she
asked.

"Yes," he answered gently, "first because of that, and then because of
all the errors of belief to which that leads."

"It all seems so unimportant," she said, sighing; "certainly nothing
which could make me claim the prayers of a stranger. Ah, well, no doubt
he means it kindly, but don't let us speak of it any more, dearest."

Their horses were so close, that, glancing shyly about for a moment into
the twilight, Helen laid her head against his arm, and looked tenderly
into his face.

He started, and then put a quick arm about her to keep her from falling.
"No," he said, "no, I will not forget." It was as though he answered some
voice in his soul, and Helen looked at him in troubled wonder.

The rest of the ride was very silent. Once, when he stopped to tighten
her saddle-girth for her, she bent his head back, and smiled down into
his eyes. He only answered her by a look, but it was enough.

CHAPTER XIX.

Gifford Woodhouse was not quite honest with himself when he said that he
felt it was time to go back to Ashurst to make his aunts a visit. He had
been restless and absent-minded very often since that flying trip in the
early spring. In spite of his sternest reasoning, hope was beginning to
grow up in his heart again. Dick Forsythe had not come to Ashurst, and
Helen said plainly that she knew Lois was not engaged to him. So why
should not Gifford himself be on the spot?

"Not that I would bother Lois," he argued in his own mind, "but just to
know if"--And besides, he really ought to see the two little ladies.

He left Lockhaven a few days after John Ward had preached his sermon on
foreign missions at Chester. It was reported to have been "powerful,"
and Elder