"And I am kept outside," said Rachel. The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Luke looked down at her in surprise. "How do you mean?" he asked. Rachel, her hands clasped round her knees, looked up into the branches of the tree above her, saying slowly, "I mean that there does not seem any possible way in which I can help you or share your life; for you say your work is your life. I am outside your work." Luke did not answer. He was conscious that what she said was true. Had he not taken pains that her bright spirit might not be quenched by knowing all the sin that abounded in his parish? He could not bear the thought of his wife hearing the sad stories that she would inevitably come across if she worked in the parish. He felt convinced that the shock she would receive would be too much for her sensitive spirit. No, she was meant for happiness; why cloud it before the time? After a moment of troubled silence, he said: "As for helping me, you can best do that dearest, by being happy. You cannot tell what it is to me when I come home to find you there; and to know that you have not been troubled by the sin that has weighed upon my own heart all day. The very fact of being with someone who is unconnected with it is a tremendous help." Rachel was silent. It did not seem to cross Luke's mind that it was difficult to keep happy and bright so long as she had only the house and its cares to think about. She needed outside interests to fill her unoccupied time and thoughts. "I suppose your mother shares your difficulties with you?" she said. "Yes. My mother always has done so. She has a happy knack of letting troubles of that sort drop away from her like water off a duck's back. That is one of the great differences between you and her. She is not sensitive as you are, and she has worked so long at this kind of thing that she does not feel it as you would. My mother is just the one that I need in my work. I can discuss anything with her and I lean considerably on her judgment." He did not see the change of expression on his wife's face, nor that the sun had gone out of it, but he noticed her silence. "You understand, don't you?" he said. Rachel did not answer, but kept her eyes on the top branches of the tree above her. He did not know her eyes were full of tears. He thought he had explained the situation to her satisfaction, and supposed she knew him well enough to understand that it was his great love for her that was the cause of his decision not to worry her with his troubles. And Rachel, sitting by his side on the soft moss, kept her eyes away, and wondered if all men were as ignorant of a woman's heart as Luke, or whether it was just because he lived so much up in the clouds that he had never studied human nature.