She paused and raised her eyes to his, and then with sweet solemnity she said: "The words were:
"'The Lord God is my strength, and He will make my feet like hinds'
feet, and He will make me to walk upon mine high places.'"
"Ruth," he answered, "you have always walked on the high places. You have never failed. And you are as safe as the nest of the eagle, a noble work of God."
"No, I am not noble; but I should like to be so. Most women like goodness. It is instinct with us, I suppose. We had rather be good than evil, and when we love we can do good things; but we quiver like the compass-needle between two poles. Oh, believe me! we are weak; but we are loving."
"Your worst, Ruth, is as much higher than my best as the heaven is—"
"Galt, you hurt my fingers!" she interrupted.
He had not noticed the almost fierce strength of his clasp. But his life was desperately hungry for her. "Forgive me, dearest.—As I said, better than my best; for, Ruth, my life was—wicked, long ago. You cannot understand how wicked!"
"You are a clergyman and a good man," she said, with pathetic negation.
"You give me a heart unsoiled, unspotted of the world. I have been in some ways worse than the worst men in the valley there below."
"Galt, Galt, you shock me!" she said.