that the care had been
upon my side alone--that when I was most uplifted in spirit it was because
I had been blinded to anything save my own inordinate feeling and hope of
comfort. I forgot all else as I sat there with her letter in my hand; and
even my discipline was of little account when I folded my arms across the
table and let my head rest there for a little while.

How long I rested there I know not, but I was aroused by words of friend
Jordan, and she said those awful questionings from the Cross, "My God! my
God! why hast Thou forsaken me?" And I arose and raised my hand, and said
those same words too. Then I opened the door, and she sprang into my arms.
She was wild and excited, and friend Afton was with her, but powerless to
do anything. I let her weep close to me and cry out and laugh--do just as
she would until she sank exhausted. Then I talked with her calmly and
dispassionately, and she clung to me and would not be removed. For an hour
or so we rested there, and then friend Afton gave me a letter from friend
Hicks. I started, and would have put the letter in my pocket, but the eyes
of friend Jordan were upon me, and I thought to allay her suspicions of my
not acting toward her as I would toward others; so I opened and read the
letter. No need to send friend Barbara the letter now. Her father wrote me
that his daughter, much against his will, had formed the acquaintance of a
hireling minister, one Richard Jordan, who had charge of the new church
just built there, and that, though friend Barbara had never told of the
man, yet her father had seen her walking with him. Friend Hicks deemed
that her being promised to me gave only me the right to expostulate with
her upon this, and desired me to write to her forthwith, as he himself
had said no word to her. I had friend Barbara's letter and her father's:
which should I obey? The one coming from the friend who was nearest to me?

I afterward wrote to Barbara that I could not say one word of myself in
this matter, but that she must act as she thought best; only that she must
take all things into consideration, and must weigh one thing in the
balance with another--that did she make a mistake in going from her people
into the world, she might never rectify it to her own mind; but that if
she could justify her acts to herself, there was no need to call upon any
aid outside of what her own principles of right could afford her. I
thought it as well not to put myself at al