hat is, too! Joel and I and the children have robbed you even
of the mother who bore you. You never knew her as she now is, John, and
that is a pity, too. In her rebirth she is as saintly as a consecrated
nun. She does not know that she believes in God, but she does. There is
a streak of doubt in her as there was in you. Are you still an
unbeliever, John?"

He lowered his head, shrugged, and contracted his brows. "I don't like
to say--to _you_, at least," he faltered. "Not to you, Tilly."

"But you may, John--it won't pain me at all. I used to think that the
worst sinners were those who denied the existence of God, but I now
think there may be persons so godlike that they can't realize the
existence of any God outside of themselves. John, you are godlike. If I
could think of you as sinning, I'd sin in that thought alone. Go on
calling yourself an atheist, and the angels will treat it as a holy
jest."

"I don't follow you," he said, wearily, as if he would dismiss the
subject. "You are mistaken about me. I am just an average man. But I
don't believe as you do. It may be beautiful--it no doubt is, but I
can't grasp it. It never came my way, somehow."

The wood was very still. Under the beating sun, the wild flowers and
tender leaves of plants were the shelter of myriads of moving things
visible and invisible. Suddenly a locust sang in the top of a
persimmon-tree. A crow flew cawing over a distant field. The rumble of a
farmer's wagon was heard on the road. Tilly's face was steadily raised
to John's. She put her hand on his arm, the arm she used to lean on so
lovingly in their walks on the mountain road.

"You can live without conscious faith, John," she said, in the sweet
treble tone he had loved so long, "but I cannot. If I doubted, as I did
once when we thought Tilly was dying, I'd wither up in despair. You may
as well know the truth. I live only for my children, John. Joel has to
suffer in not having all my heart-- I can't help that. He must suffer,
too, because he makes no headway in life and is unable to provide well
for me and his children. I can't help that, either. That is his cross
and he is bearing it like a saint. But as for me, I have two things to
live for--my children and your mother. God has put them in my hands and
I must care for them. Do you think I could live without faith now? Why,
I know God must help me care for them. I am praying for that. Night
after night--day after day I plead with God to pr