"I am sure he is--one of the very best in the county. But tell me, Ann, what it is to love. You know the spellin' book definition. It's in the Bible, too, that love is stronger than death. But they both came out of somebody's mind first, somebody who loved. Tell me about it." "Why should I know?" He mused a moment, then he said as if to the fire instead of Ann: "It won't be until I _know_, that I promise to marry a woman." Ann glanced at Lincoln. He seemed for the moment unconscious of her existence. She called him from his reflections by speaking his name. "Abraham," she said as the wheel spun slowly, "I have a secret to tell you, a confession to make." He was all attention in a minute. She dropped her hands in her lap and moved a little way from behind the wheel. "Do you remember the camp-meeting, and Brother Cartwright saying you were a deluded sinner, and saying you were worth praying for?" "Did he? I believe he did." "Well, since that night, every day I have been remembering you at the throne of grace, but I have made up my mind it is only wasting time. I still don't understand how anybody can be saved and not believe in hell, and you do some things that are not right, like the day at the quilting-bee, which was not fair to John McNeil. My Bible says, 'by their fruits shall men be known,' and, Abraham, your life bears fruit, much better fruit and more of it than do some of those who call you a sinner. So I've decided it's just wasting my time and God's to pray for you any more." In the moment of silence that followed this speech, Ann turned back to the wheel. "Don't spin," he said; "there's something I want to say." She folded her hands in her lap and waited. There was no sound in the room save the sputter of the fire. A bit of charred wood fell into the ashes. Lincoln took the tongs and threw it back, then he sat looking at it. Presently he turned to Ann. "And you have been rememberin' me at the throne of Grace? I don't know anything about thrones and mighty little about grace, for the grace of life has not been my portion. But this is what I want to say. If a man can get to God through the intercession of a true and noble and pure-hearted man, as all Christians say they do, I don't see why a man can't get to God through the pleadin's of a true and noble and pure-hearted woman." Ann looked at him questioningly. "I don't know what you mean, Abraham," she said. "I mean just this--if ever I reach the throne of grace where just men get nearer glimpses of God, it will be through--Ann Rutledge. Do you understand this?"