ething
like a hope that she would be inspired to help him.

His soul lifted at the sound of the gay voice in which she asked, "Did
you get my letta?" and it seemed for the instant as if there could be no
trouble that their love could not overcome.

"Yes," he said, and he put his arms around her, but with a
provisionality in his embrace which she subtly perceived.

"And what did you think of it?" she asked. "Did you think I was silly?"

He was aware that she had trusted him to do away her misgiving. "No,
no," he answered, guiltily. "Wiser than I am, always. I--I want to talk
with you about it, Clementina. I want you to advise me."

He felt her shrink from him, and with a pang he opened his arms to free
her. But it was right; he must. She had been expecting him to say that
there was nothing in her misgiving, and he could not say it.

"Clementina," he entreated, "why do you think you are not religious?"

"Why, I have never belonged to chu'ch," she answered simply. He looked
so daunted, that she tried to soften the blow after she had dealt it.
"Of course, I always went to chu'ch, though father and motha didn't. I
went to the Episcopal--to Mr. Richling's. But I neva was confirmed."

"But-you believe in God?"

"Why, certainly!"

"And in the Bible?"

"Why, of cou'se!"

"And that it is our duty to bear the truth to those who have never heard
of it?"

"I know that is the way you feel about it; but I am not certain that
I should feel so myself if you didn't want me to. That's what I got to
thinking about last night." She added hopefully, "But perhaps it isn't
so great a thing as I--"

"It's a very great thing," he said, and from standing in front of her,
he now sat down beyond a little table before her sofa. "How can I ask
you to share my life if you don't share my faith?"

"Why, I should try to believe everything that you do, of cou'se."

"Because I do?"

"Well-yes."

"You wring my heart! Are you willing to study--to look into these
questions--to--to"--It all seemed very hopeless, very absurd, but she
answered seriously:

"Yes, but I believe it would all come back to just where it is, now."

"What you say, Clementina, makes me so happy; but it ought to make
me--miserable! And you would do all this, be all this for me, a wretched
and erring creature of the dust, and yet not do it for--God?"

Clementina could only say, "Perhaps if He meant me to do it for Him, He
would have made me want to. He made you."