“Papa says I have never been quite sound myself, and that he supposes I will do as I please, as I always have.”
There followed a little love-letter, so deliciously womanly and tender, that Bayard did not for hours open the remainder of his mail. When he did so, he read what the Professor of Theology had written, after a night of prayer and vigil such as only aged parents know.
“My dear Bayard,” the letter said,—“Take her if you must, and God be with you both! I cannot find it in my heart to impose the shadow of my religious convictions upon the happiness of my child. I can battle for the Truth with men and with demons. I cannot fight with the appeal of a woman’s love. I would give my life to make Helen happy, and to keep her so. Do you as much!
Yours sincerely,
“Haggai Carruth.
“P. S.—We will resume our discussion on the views of Professor Kammelschkreiter at some more convenient season.”
XXVI.
Early June came to Windover joyously that year. May had been a gentle month, warmer than its wont, and the season was in advance of its schedule.