CHAPTER XXII.
After Helen had gone, John Ward went back to the parsonage, dazed and stupefied by the exhaustion of the moral conflict which for nearly a month had strained every fibre of his soul.
The house seemed dark and empty.

His face brightened a moment, as he sat wearily down at his writing-table and saw the prairie rose in the slender vase.

He leaned his head on his hand, and drew the flower towards him, touching it with gentle fingers, as though he caressed the bloom of Helen's cheek.

Then he pushed it in front of her picture which stood always on the same table, and thought vaguely that he would leave it there until she put a fresh one in its place.
And so his thoughts came heavily back to the old grief and anxiety.

He went over all the arguments he had used, and saw new points and reasons which he had neglected to give, and he even drew his pen and paper towards him, and began to make some notes.