I have known that you have been far from truth, that you have not believed, and yet I--I have been silent." Helen looked at him, and the sudden awful thought flashed into her mind that he did not know what he was saying, and then she said with a gasp: "Oh, John, is that all?
Have you been so unhappy just because of that?
Oh, you poor fellow!" She brought her horse close beside his, and laid her hand on his arm.
"Dear, what does it matter what I believe or do not believe?
We love each other.

And where is your tolerance, John ?" She laughed, but the look of terrible concern in his face frightened her.
"Ah, Helen," he said, "such tolerance as you would have me show would be indifference." "Oh, John!" she said, and then began resolutely to speak of other things.
But soon they fell into silence, Helen longing to get home and brush this useless and foolish anxiety from her husband's heart, and he agonizing for his sin towards her and towards his people.
The late afternoon sunshine gilded the tender green of the fields, and slanting deep into the darkness of the woods, touched the rough trunks of the trees with gold.

Long shadows stretched across the road, and the fragrance which steals out with the evening dews began to come from unseen blossoms, and early clover; and a breath of the uncertain night wind brought hints of apple orchards or the pungent sweetness of cherry-blossoms.

They had gone more than half-way home when they drew rein to water their horses, under a whispering pine by the roadside.

The trough, overflowing with sparkling water, was green with moss and lichen, and was so old and soft that a bunch of ferns had found a home on its side.