“Friend, it may seem strange to you, but there was once a time years ago when I doubted the truth of the Bible; but I was brought by my loved one out of the darkness into the light. Slowly but surely the mist lifted and the sun came out brighter and brighter, and whereas I was once blind I now see. Never doubt it, friend, but tell it to the far off corners of the earth--write it in your heart in letters of gold, that men may see _the Bible is true_. The life of my loved one, and my life which is hers, has proved it. For love is life, and in this love of man for woman God has pictured the true fruition--which is perfect knowledge. For is it not plain that he who truly loves cannot prove inconstant? and where the woman truly loves she is bound by the law of God to constancy. They cannot fall as long as love is held inviolate; and once loving, love cannot be violated. “But it is growing late and you had better climb up the ladder and go to bed. Though to-morrow is the day of rest, we will stroll through the woods; and by the way, I have a great and important truth to tell you. You need not write it, but I will talk as we stroll; the nature of what I will tell is so peculiar you will remember it all and can write it out at home. You are making progress I see. You can undress in the moonlight, and I will place my cot out beneath the trees and sleep. I delight to rest out under the open sky, while the stars keep vigil, some disappearing from sight and others coming up over the horizon to take their places. How quietly they come! How simple yet ever wonderful are the works of God! And so it is that man will come to perfection, for does it not say ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God’?” CHAPTER XX. THE ARREST. I climbed the ladder and looked out of the open window on the great, serene and silent scene spread out before me. Great gulfs of shadows lay under the trees, a gentle breeze stirred the branches, and their upturned leaves glimmered silvery in the moonlight which covered the sleeping earth as with a garment. I undressed and knelt beside the little bed and prayed my first prayer. Thirty-seven years had slipped past me--my wavy-brown hair was already sprinkled with white; lines of care were on my face; girlhood gone; the marks of age had come; I was reaching out toward two score, and I had never prayed. Of course I had read the prayer-book, and in church I had mumbled certain words; but now for the first time I fell on my knees and buried my face in my hands. The hot tears came quick and fast, and trickled through my fingers; but they were tears of joy, not sorrow. At last life seemed to show a gleam of meaning! There was purpose in it all, God’s purpose! I prayed that I might do His will. The only words that came to my sobbing throat, and these I said over and over again, were: “Oh, give me a clean heart and a right spirit!”