There was rather a prolonged silence; then Io lovingly laid her hand on her husband’s arm, and softly said, “Do you not think that the greatest trial which we can ever be called on to bear is to lose one whom we love?”
“No; there is a heavier cross even than that,” muttered Oscar, as if speaking to himself rather than to his young wife.
Io felt a little perplexed, and even hurt; but she ventured not to ask for any explanation of words so strange. She was pleased to see Mr. Lawrence at a little distance approaching the house.
“I will leave him and my husband to have a quiet talk together,” thought Mrs. Coldstream. Rising, and saying that she had not yet given Maha her Sunday lesson, Io glided into the house.
During his walk to the dwelling of the Coldstreams Mark’s soul had been engaged in fervent prayer. The Saturday evening had been chiefly devoted to searching learned books, written for the special purpose of refuting infidel views and clearing up doubts on difficult doctrines.
Oscar received his visitor with his usual courtesy, and Mark was invited to occupy the seat which Io had quitted.
The chaplain had revolved in his mind how he could best lead the conversation with his friend to the point which he had in his view. He must not wound, he must not startle, above all he must not offend. After a few insignificant observations, which with our shynation seem indispensable as a shoe-horn to real conversation, Mr. Lawrence observed, “You went home, I believe, in the Argus?”
Coldstream assented by a slight movement of the head.
“You must have met on board a passenger of the name of John Mace?”
There was again the mute sign of assent.