once more the reasons
for believing in this doctrine which so distresses you, dearest. To say,
in a word, if I could, why I lay such stress upon it, instead of some of
the other doctrines of the church. It is because I do believe that
salvation, eternal life, Helen, depends upon holding the doctrine of
reprobation in its truth and entirety. For see, beloved: deny the
eternity of punishment, and the scheme of salvation is futile. Christ
need not have died, a man need not repent, and the whole motive of the
gospel is false; revelation is denied, and we are without God and without
hope. Grant the eternity of punishment, and the beauty and order of the
moral universe burst upon us: man is a sinner, and deserves death, and
justice is satisfied; for, though mercy is offered, it is because Christ
has died. And his atonement is not cheapened by being forced upon men who
do not want it. They must accept it, or be punished."

Helen looked up into his face with a sad wonder. "Don't you see, dear,"
she said, "we cannot reason about it? You take all this from the Bible,
because you believe it is inspired. I do not believe it is. So how can we
argue? If I granted your premises, all that you say would be perfectly
logical. But I do not, John. I cannot. I am so grieved for you, dearest,
because I know how this distresses you; but I must say it. Silence can
never take the place of truth, between us."

"Oh, it did, too long, too long!" John groaned. "Is there no hope?" and
then he began his restless walk again, Helen watching him with yearning
eyes.

"I cannot give it up," he said at last. "There must be some way by which
the truth can be made clear to you. Perhaps the Lord will show it to me.
There is no pain too great for me to bear, to find it out; no, even the
anguish of remorse, if it brings you to God! Oh, you shall be saved! Do
the promises of the Eternal fail?"

He came over to her, and took her hands in his. Their eyes met. This
sacrament of souls was too solemn for words or kisses. When they spoke
again it was of commonplace things.

It was hard for her to leave the little low-browed house, the next
morning. John stopped to gather a bunch of prairie roses from the bush
which they had trained beneath the study window, and Helen fastened them
in her dress; then, just as they were ready to start, the preacher's wife
ran back to the study, and hurriedly put one of the roses from her bosom
into a vase on the writing-table, and