George looked down into those dark eyes, full of earnest appeal for his decision.
“Yes!” he said.
“I can’t be sure always,” said Joan thoughtfully. “Sometimes—yes, sometimes I do feel sure. Things have never been the same since that dreadful time when you were so ill. I did learn to pray then. And I think—I think I do love Christ now. But still—”
“But still, temptations come. Is that it?”
“Father, I am afraid I do love you too much still, and I love God too little.”
“He alone can cure that evil, dear.”
“If I knew what to do!” said Joan.
“There is only one thing to be done. Take it all to Jesus.”
Joan gave him one quick smile of response. She could respond now.
“Yes,” George said presently, as if carrying on or answering some thought of his own, “if the illness and trouble of that year brought my Joan to his feet, I can be thankful for the whole.”