XVIII.

Before I sank to rest I heard Winifred and her husband conversing in the
place where I had left them; both their voices were low and calm. I soon
fell asleep, and slumbered for some time. On my awakening I again heard
them conversing, but they were now in their cart; still the voices of
both were calm. I heard no passionate bursts of wild despair on the part
of the man. Methought I occasionally heard the word _Pechod_ proceeding
from the lips of each, but with no particular emphasis. I supposed they
were talking of the innate sin of both their hearts.

"I wish that man were happy," said I to myself, "were it only for his
wife's sake, and yet he deserves to be happy for his own."

The next day Peter was very cheerful, more cheerful than I had ever seen
him. At breakfast his conversation was animated, and he smiled
repeatedly. I looked at him with the greatest interest, and the eyes of
his wife were almost constantly fixed upon him. A shade of gloom would
occasionally come over his countenance, but it almost instantly
disappeared; perhaps it proceeded more from habit than anything else.
After breakfast he took his Welsh Bible and sat down beneath a tree. His
eyes were soon fixed intently on the volume; now and then he would call
his wife, show her some passage, and appeared to consult with her. The
day passed quickly and comfortably.

"Your husband seems much better," said I, at evening fall, to Winifred,
as we chanced to be alone.

"He does," said Winifred; "and that on the day of the week when he was
wont to appear most melancholy, for to-morrow is the Sabbath. He now no
longer looks forward to the Sabbath with dread, but appears to reckon on
it. What a happy change! and to think that this change should have been
produced by a few words, seemingly careless ones, proceeding from the
mouth of one who is almost a stranger to him. Truly, it is wonderful."

"To whom do you allude," said I, "and to what words?"

"To yourself, and to the words which came from your lips last night,
after you had heard my poor husband's history. Those strange words,
drawn out with so much seeming indifference, have produced in my husband
the blessed effect which you have observed. They have altered the
current of his ideas. He no longer thinks himself the only being in the
world doomed to destruction,--the only being capable of committing the
never-to-be-forgiven sin. Your supposition that that which harrowed his