"Oh, Abraham!" she said with a start. "You don't mean that Jesus loved Mary." "Of course He did. Didn't he love everybody? What else can you make of the incident where Mary, so anxious to show her love in some unusual way, went to the dinner where she emptied her vase of costly perfumes on his hair and feet? Do you remember that her act immediately called forth unkind comment and the sort of criticism that hurts a gentle woman beyond the power of words to tell? What did Jesus do? Did He sit by dumb like a coward and let her feelin's be wounded when, whether wisely or unwisely she had sought to prove her love? Was He afraid of those sharp-tongued men? I tell you, Ann, every time I read the story, this Jesus the world loves looms up bigger and grander and more heroic and sublime! Such tender consideration as He showed marks a man, a man. Do you remember what He said as she sat with her eyes full of tears before these men? 'Let her alone,' He said; then He spoke the few words which were forever to link the name of Mary with that of Jesus, even as He prophesied." While Ann was considering this somewhat new view of an old story her Mother's voice was heard calling, "Don't forget to cover the coals, Ann." Ann reached for the shovel. "Not yet," he said, taking her hand and moving his chair closer to hers. She did not try to withdraw her hand from the large one that held it. For a moment he sat looking into the fire. Then he turned to her. "Ann," he said in a low voice, and unsteady, "Ann Rutledge, look at me. I have something to say to you." Ann turned her face to his. For a moment he seemed to search it with a gaze as tender as it was masterful and as pleading as it was secure. "We are goin' to cover the coals," he said. "Do you know, Ann, that hearts are hearthstones where women keep the live fire burnin'? My hearthstone has been ash-strewn and cold--with nobody to cover the coals?" She felt the large hand around hers tighten its grasp, but he yet looked into the fire. When he spoke again it was with a different tone. The pleading was gone. There was a tone of masterful security in it. "Ann," he said, "we have been waitin' for a letter. It has not come. The time is now past when one or ten thousand letters refusin' to release you would avail anything. When a man loves a woman as I love you, it is his God-ordained privilege to get her. Do you understand? I _love_ you. I have loved you since before I ever saw your face. It came to me the night I heard you singin' on the heights. I love you more than anything on earth or in heaven and I feel some way that love like this can come but once. I _love_ you and I would give my life to have you mine--to cover the coals on the hearthstone of my heart."