His heart sank as he looked. The smile was so strangely sweet--and all this quiet, this stillness, this mystery! She was being separated from him by impalpable shadowy forces that could not be battled with or defied. In his heart a warning voice seemed to say that just so quietly she might fade from his sight--pass away, and be forever gone. The thought struck cold to his heart, and he uttered an involuntary groan. His wife opened her eyes, moved slightly, and seemed as if she would speak, but Mis' Persis put her hand authoritatively over her mouth. "Don't you say a word," said she. Then turning with concentrated energy on Zeph, she backed him out of the room and shut the door upon him and herself in the entry before she trusted herself to speak. When she did, it was as one having authority. "Zephaniah Higgins," she said, "air you crazy? Do you want to kill your wife? Ef ye come round her that way and git her a-talkin' she'll bleed from her lungs agin, and that'll finish her. You've jest got to shet up and submit to the Lord, Zephaniah Higgins, and that's what you hain't never done yit; you've got to know that the Lord is goin' to do _his_ sovereign will and pleasure with your wife, and you've got to be still. That's all. You can't do nothin'. We shall all do the best we can; but you've jest got to wait the Lord's time and pleasure." So saying, she went back into the sick-room and closed the door, leaving Zeph standing desolate in the entry. Zeph, like most church members of his day, had been trained in theology, and had often expressed his firm belief in what was in those days spoken of as the "doctrine of divine sovereignty." A man's idea of his God is often a reflection of his own nature. The image of an absolute monarch, who could and would always do exactly as he pleased, giving no account to any one of his doings, suited Zeph perfectly as an abstract conception; but when this resistless awful Power was coming right across his path, the doctrine assumed quite another form. The curt statement made by Mis' Persis had struck him with a sudden terror, as if a flash of lightning had revealed an abyss opening under his feet. That he was utterly helpless in his Sovereign's hands he saw plainly; but his own will rose in rebellion--a rebellion useless and miserable. His voice trembled that night as he went through the familiar words of the evening prayer; a rush of choking emotions almost stopped his utterance, and the old words, worn smooth with use, seemed to have no relation to the turbulent tempest of feeling that was raging in his heart. After prayers he threw down the Bible with an impatient bang, bolted for his room and shut himself in alone. "Poor Father! he takes it hard," said Nabby, wiping her eyes. "He takes everything hard," said Abner. "I don't know how we'll get along with him, now Mother isn't round." "Well, let's hope Mother's goin' to get well," said Nabby. "I can't--I ain't goin' to think anything else."