"I value him very much. A gentle, hopeful man."
"Be sure I'll come."
"And I must see Sarah Jane too. Don't tell her that it will be the last time, because that would be a great grief to her, for she's fond of me, I know."
"Yes, she is."
"Let her come next week for a day or two, if you can spare her. But I'll not tell her that it's the last 'good-bye.' All the same, I'm afraid she'll guess it for herself."
"Try to do her good—same as you have me," said Brendon. "You won't speak many more words on human ears now. Let 'em be as the Lord wills. He'll put it into your heart what to say to her. A better, nobler woman than my wife never lived. Fearless and brave and high-minded—I never saw the like of her and never shall. But all the same, from the first—from our courting—there was always something I couldn't understand. Her point of view—not all pure godliness; yet I'd not dare to say she was ungodly in anything. But a sort of high habit of mind that wouldn't bend to the yoke. Always hated and still hates to call herself a miserable sinner afore the footstool of Grace. Yet humble, and gentle, and true to my heart and my hopes here and hereafter, as the moss is true to the stone."
"No man was ever worthy of her, Daniel."
"I know it. Tell her the meek are blessed and inherit the earth."
"And blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. I've never known but one woman that I could think of as able to look at God, Daniel, and that's your wife. Don't ask me to dare to teach her—'tis for her to teach me; and teach you too. Why should she be fearful? She can't be. Perfect love casteth out fear. That's her lesson to us."
Brendon considered doubtfully.