“I suppose examination was right,” said Ethel, “for a man, and defender of the faith. I should only have tried to pray the terrible thought away. But I can’t tell how it feels.”
“Worse than you have power to imagine,” said Norman, shuddering. “It is over now. I worked out their fallacies, and went over the reasoning on our side.”
“And prayed—” said Ethel.
“Indeed I did; and the confidence returned, firmer, I hope, than ever. It had never gone for a whole day.”
Ethel breathed freely. “It was life or death,” she said, “and we never knew it!”
“Perhaps not; but I know your prayers were angel-wings ever round me. And far more than argument, was the thought of my father’s heart-whole Christian love and strength.”
“Norman, you believed, all the time, with your heart. This was only a bewilderment of your intellect.”
“I think you are right,” said Norman. “To me the doubt was cruel agony—not the amusement it seems to some.”
“Because our dear home has made the truth, our joy, our union,” said Ethel. “And you are sure the cloud is gone, and for ever?” she still asked anxiously.
He stood still. “For ever, I trust,” he said. “I hold the faith of my childhood in all its fullness as surely as—as ever I loved my mother and Harry.”