His own eyes grew moist. He softly dropped the rug over her shoulders, and set himself to the task of rebuilding the fire. Intense gratitude and thankfulness and such a flood of tender emotion overspread him that he could scarcely control himself. When a blaze sprang up from the wood, he rose and hurriedly paced the room. His ardent looks, like rays from burning glass, played over the head of the sleeping girl, and at last she stirred with an uneasy mention of his own name. He was at her side in an instant, soothing her and kissing the heavy, swollen eyelids, but she seemed only partly aware of his presence, and writhed in his arms as if in bodily pain. "Oh, it was so horrible, here alone in the night! Why did they kill Him? He was so holy!" Justin gave her only the mute consolation of his presence. What words of his could soften the old, old tragedy of the cross,--so familiar a story to him, so startling and awful an occurrence to her? Alone in the midnight hours she had read the account of eye-witnesses, and their words had entered like iron into her sensitive soul. "I heard something of it in a church once," she said, with closed eyes, "but I did not dream it was like that. Oh, how wicked they were! I would have fought for Him had I been there." "His kingdom was not by the sword, my darling." "Oh, I am so tired," she said, wearily, "so broken-hearted!" "But you believe it?" said Justin, in a trembling voice. "It appeals to you as the truth?" "Oh, yes, yes, that is truth. But they killed Him." "He rose again, my darling. Did you read beyond the crucifixion?" "No, no." He reached past her for the Bible; and, in a solemn ecstasy, reverently unfolded to her the marvellously sweet and beautiful occurrences of the first day of the week so long ago. Her distress left her little by little, and when he concluded with the words, "And they were continually in the temple praising and blessing God," she started up. "Now I understand. It was all planned. What those men called prophets spoke was all true. But, Justin, why have I never heard before? It is so wonderful, so astonishing! My father must have read this book,--he never told me." Justin was silent. This book was a sealed mystery to her father. He did not care to know what was in it. "Derrice," he said, at last, "when I married you I knew that I could not keep you wholly to myself. There are people who will tell you to beware of this book, that its teachings are narrow and hard to obey, that it is the work of men's hands, but you,--you see its divine origin. Now you are armed, I do not fear for you." "I believe that there was never a man like this man," she said, softly, "I never heard of any one like Him; not even you, dear, dear Justin, though you are so good." In unspeakable happiness he scrutinised her suddenly calm face, then murmured, "You love Him, you will serve Him?"