And this, I may say, I have done with thoroughness--with great thoroughness." "Bernal may be dead," suggested Aunt Bell, brightening now from an impartial admiring of the toes of her small, plump slippers.
"God forbid that he should be cut off in his unbelief--but then, God's will be done.

If that be true, of course, the matter is different.
Meantime we are advertising." "I wish I had your superb faith, Allan.

I wish Nancy had it...." Her niece's husband turned his head and shoulders until she had the three-quarters view of his face.
"I have faith, Aunt Bell.

God knows my unworthiness, even as you know it and I know it--but I have faith!" The golden specks in his hazel eyes blazed with humility, and a flush of the same virtue mantled his perfect brow.
Such news of Bernal Linford as had come back to Edom, though meagre and fragmentary, was of a character to confirm the worst fears of those who loved him.

The first report came within a year after his going, and caused a shaking of many heads.
An estimable farmer, one Caleb Webster, living on the outskirts of Edom, had, in a blameless spirit of adventure, toured the Far West, at excursion rates said to be astounding for cheapness.