He had yet to learn what wellsprings of strength lie in the poetic temperament.
As he stood lingering on the threshold, finding it almost impossible to turn away while the sweet face held him by the honest gaze of the loving eyes, he said, "There will be many times, dear, when things will have to be very hard, when I shall not be able to do as you would like to have me, when you may even be pained by my conduct.

Shall you trust me through it all ?" "I shall trust you till the day of my death," said Mercy, impetuously.
"One can't take trust back.

It isn't a gift: it is a necessity." Stephen smiled,--a smile of sorrow rather than gladness.
"But if you thought me other than you had believed ?" he said.
"I could never think you other than you are," replied Mercy, proudly.

"It is not that I 'believe' you.

I know you.