n, help me in
these days or weeks of waiting.

"'There is one mercy vouchsafed to me who am all unworthy of the least
favor: it is the knowledge of your understanding it all,--the bitter
distress, the absolute conviction, and the necessity which follows it.
You see what the temptation was to fly with you to some spot where your
unbelief could not injure any one, and there work and pray for your
salvation; leaving these souls, which my neglect of you and so of them,
has allowed to drift deep into sin. You will understand that, believing
(oh, knowing, Helen, knowing) that salvation depends upon a right
conception of truth, I have no choice but to force you by any means to
save your soul. This knowledge makes me strong. So I am set, with
strength which you yourself give me, to inflict this suffering upon you.
Take this absence and use its bitterness to sting you to search for
truth. Take its anguish to God. Pray for light, pray for the Spirit of
God. And when light comes--Oh, love, the thought of that joy seems too
great to bear except before the throne of God! I shall not write again;
you will meet this grief in the solitude of your own soul, where even I
dare not come to break the silence which may be the voice of God. Write
me any questionings, that I may help those first faint stirrings of the
Holy Spirit, but unless questionings come I shall be silent.'"

Helen had not read all of this aloud, and there was yet more, on which
she looked a moment before she folded the letter. The closing words were
full of a human tenderness too divine and holy for any heart but her own;
a faint smile crept about her lips for a moment, as she leaned out of her
distress to rest upon her husband's love, and then she woke again to the
present.

CHAPTER XXVII.

But the rector was not softened by John's letter; there was a curl of
contempt upon his lip which colored his words, though with Helen's quiet
eyes upon him he forced himself to speak calmly.

"You see he expects you to return. This idea of yours, of a separation,
is nonsense. I told you so in the first place. Now the only thing to do
is to go to Lockhaven, and just say that your convictions are immovable
(if they are, though it would be wiser to make a concession, Helen), so
there is no use in experimenting in this absurd way. Absurd? Why
it is--it is"--

Dr. Howe's face was crimson, and he could find no epithet strong enough
to use.

"Do you suppose I have not told