"And then," he continued, "the Lord says ’They’ve done with you, Shillabeer; they want a cheerfuller, hopefuller pattern of man;’ and I say, ’’Tis so, Lord; I read it in their faces.’" He broke off suddenly and spoke of other things. "D’you mind when holy words sprang up on the gates and lintels round about--like corn springs after rain? ’Twas my work! You’re the first to know it, and I must ax of you to keep it dark ’till I’m gone to my reward. But ’twas my thought and deed. By night I’d do it; and of lonely grey evenings; and often afore the sun was up. I’ve walked with God, woman!" "And much good those texts in the lone places did. I know they warmed my heart more than once, Mr. Shillabeer." "Yes, they did a power of good. I could see that." "To think you was never found out!" "The Lord hid me. ’Twas His idea, not mine. Every idea be the Lord’s first; and the cleverest things we can do be planned out by Him and then slipped into a man’s intellects, like we post a letter or whisper into a ear." "But the wicked thoughts?" "Good men don’t get ’em. Proper-thinking people don’t let ’em in. Be the God of Hosts going to suffer a humble, faithful servant like me to be pestered with Satan’s nonsense at my time of life? Would that be a fair thing? If a man ban’t done with the Devil when he’s in sight of seventy, ’tis a bad lookout for him. And God’s nearly always been a fair sportsman, you mind." "Somebody far wiser and cleverer than me ought to hear about this," she declared. "I do think and believe you’re terribly wrong." He shook his great head impatiently. "No, no. I’m in the right. I met Mr. Merle in the churchyard, when I was sitting beside my wife’s bones a bit ago, and he walked over and had a tell with me; and I axed him if our inner thoughts come from God--just to see what he’d say. He answered that every good and perfect thought comed from the Father of Gifts. So there you are. What is it--this thing driving me to be gone? Why, ’tis the voice of Heaven calling me--just like you yourself might call the cows home off the moor at milking time." "You make a terrible mistake." He held up his hand. "Say not a word, my dear. ’Tis no better than speaking against the Master of all flesh to tell me I’ve heard wrong. My wife’s in Heaven. I’ve got her that loved me best among the angels at the Throne of Grace. Belike she’s just fretting her spirit with cruel impatience because I hang fire. You might think, perhaps, that there wasn’t no great haste, eternity being what it is. But if you loved your husband like my wife loved me, you’d know eternity’s self was none too long for us to be together again. There’s only one little thing that makes me hang back." "’Tis the Word of God."