ping up water to fill it, were warped and cracked, their iron
bands rusty, and out of one or two the bottom had fallen. The door of the
shed creaked on its one hinge, and John looked up surprised to see how
dark it had grown, then he turned towards home.

"Yes," he said to himself, "I must show her her danger. It will grieve
her to force an argument upon her, and I don't think she has had one
unhappy hour since we were married; but even if it were not for her own
soul's sake, I must not let my people starve for the bread of life, to
spare her. I must not be silent concerning the danger of the sinner. But
it will trouble her,--it will trouble her."

John had dallied with temptation so long, that it had grown bold, and did
not always hide under the plea of wisdom, but openly dared him to inflict
the pain of grieving his wife upon himself. He still delayed, yet there
were moments when he knew himself a coward, and had to summon every
argument of the past to his defense. But before he reached the parsonage
door he had lapsed into such tender thoughts of Helen that he said again,
"Not quite yet; it seems to annoy her so to argue upon such things. I
must leave it until I win her to truth by the force of its own
constraining beauty. Little by little I will draw her attention to it.
And I must gradually make my sermons more emphatic."

Helen met him at the door, and drew him into the house. "You are so
late," she said, pressing his chill fingers against her warm cheek, and
chafing them between her hands.

He stopped to kiss her before he took his coat off, smiling at her
happiness and his own.

"How raw and cold it is!" she said. "Come into the study; I have a
beautiful fire for you. Is it going to snow, do you think? How is your
sick woman?"

"Better," he answered, as he followed her into the room. "Oh, Helen, it
is good to be at home. I have not seen you since noon."

She laughed, and then insisted that he should sit still, and let her
bring his supper into the study, and eat it there by the fire. He watched
her with a delicious luxury of rest and content; for he was very tired
and very happy.

She put a little table beside him, covered with a large napkin; and then
she brought a loaf of brown bread and some honey, with a mould of yellow
butter, and last a little covered dish of chicken.

"I broiled that for you myself," she explained proudly; "and I did not
mean to give you coffee, but what do you think?--the whole