Solemnly chided so, Ruth quick replied: "And what if of His purposes one be To let thee plunge, as headstrong, so headlong, Thy way to bloody death, thou stiff-necked man? Thou hearest what Rachel brings us, doubtful hint Indeed, but therefore in itself to me Only more fearful; and how fearful joined To what thyself confessest thou of late, With thine own ears, hast, from the public mouth, Heard--instigated whisper, Shimei's brew, Accusing thee of treason to the hope Of Israel, and purpose to destroy The temple, and the customs do away Which Moses left us! Stephen, all these signs Singly, much more together, point one way-- They threaten death to thee, if thou persist To preach things hateful to the wise and good." Ruth intermitted, and her husband said: "The danger, Ruth, I know, but I must not, For danger, slack obedience to my Lord." Then Ruth said: "But I only ask that thou Now, for a little, prudently abide In hiding till this storm be overpast." He, with a glance of irony, replied: "And always run to covert at the first Bluster of opposition? Yea, to some That is permitted; but to other some, Whereof am I, only to stand foursquare And take the buffet of whatever storm. And the best prudence is obeying, Ruth." High answered Stephen thus, but Ruth rejoined: "Stephen, thou ever wert a stubborn will, And overweening of the wisdom thine, Hard-hearted and unloving never yet, Never, till now. How canst thou bide thus calm, And I, thine erst loved wife, beheld by thee So tossed with tempest and not comforted?" Wherewith self-pity broke her words to sobs: She fell on Stephen's neck and wept aloud. With both his arms he folded her about, While his heart, hugely swelling in his breast, Forced to his eye the slow, large, rounding tear. It was as if a cloud that wished to rain Strongly held back its drooping weight of shower. His melting voice at last he fixed in words: "What meanest thou to weep and break my heart, O thou, mine own, most loving and most loved Of women? Flesh cries out to flesh in me Against the purpose of my spirit set To crucify the flesh with its desires!" Ruth caught her sobs and held them while she spoke: "Flesh of thy flesh am I; thou slayest me In slaying thyself; I will not have it so. Not ready yet am I to die in thee; And thee God surely needs alive, not dead: The dead cannot praise God nor serve His cause. Who will so preach that gospel that thou lovest When thou art gone? Who then will silence Saul? I tell thee, Stephen, this is Satan's guile-- To get thee slain--and overmatch mightst thou The arch-deceiver, easily, if thou wouldst, So easily--only live."