"Geraldine," she said as her niece passed the door, "bring me a glass of water, please, Mrs. Thorpe has become faint."
With the first return of consciousness Mrs. Thorpe thought of her husband. Had she not compromised his honor? Put to hazard his position, perhaps? She looked into Mrs. Mayhew's face:
"I have betrayed my weakness," she said; "I have shown you my unworthiness. It was not my intention to do this; over and over I have promised myself that no word that might cast dishonor on my husband's calling or cause him pain should ever pass my lips."
Mrs. Mayhew with quick intuition, understood all that her friend did not say, quite as well as that which she uttered. She read the story of repression and self-subjugation, and the heroism that hid her trouble and despair rather than cause another pain. And she also had a glimpse of the love this woman bore her husband, and of the fineness of her nature that even for the sake of this love, could not tamper with her soul's conception of truth. Her face was warm with sympathy:
"Dear troubled soul," she said, "I am your friend, not to distress and embarrass you, but if I can, to aid and comfort you."
During the remainder of the day Mrs. Mayhew endeavored to keep the conversation free from all topics that might distress her guest, and to limit the flow of talk to a circle of light and pleasant thought.
Mr. Thorpe came in time for dinner. Between him and Professor Vane there was much of common interest. Professor Vane was a teacher in a theological seminary; and the two men discussed the world of theology, the Church and its mission, the seminary and its work.
"I cannot account for the diversity of opinion I find among theological students," Professor Vane said. "There are scarcely two of them who see the questions of creed and doctrines in the same light. What the outcome of all of these new lines of thought will be it is difficult to predict."
There was a spirit of resentment, righteous he believed it to be, in Mr. Thorpe's mind toward these new lines of religious thought. He believed that the Leviathan of doubt, and the subtle Serpent of false belief had threatened the sanctity of his own home. And he was strong in the belief that it was time for men of integrity and conviction to strike these monsters, to crush and destroy them.
"It is my opinion that these digressions and irregularities must prove disastrous," he said. "We must have a creed and a doctrine, and I do not hesitate to say, that men who cannot conform to them have no call to preach the Gospel."