Helen did not answer.
But the elder was not rebuffed. "I hope we will see you soon," he said. "A solemn season of revival is approaching. Why have you stayed away so long, Mrs. Ward?"
Annoyed at the impertinence of his questions, Helen's face flushed a little.
"I do not like the prayer-meeting," she answered quietly; but before the elder could recover from the shock of such a statement, Mrs. Nevins had come up to speak to him.
"Have you seen Mrs. Davis yet, Mr. Dean?" she said. "She took on awful, last night; the neighbors heard her. 'T was after twelve 'fore she was quiet."
"Yes, I saw her," responded the elder, shaking his head in a pompous way. "I went to administer consolation. I'm just coming from there now. It is an awful judgment on that man: no chance for repentance, overtook by hell, as I told Mrs. Davis, in a moment! But the Lord must be praised for his justice: that ought to comfort her."
"Good heavens!" cried Helen, "you did not tell that poor woman her husband was overtaken by hell?"
"Ma'am," said Mr. Dean, fairly stuttering with astonishment at the condemnation of her tone—"I—I—did."
"Oh, shame!" Helen said, heedless of the listeners around them. "How dared you say such a thing? How dared you libel the goodness of God? Tom Davis is not in hell. A man who died to save another's life? Who would want the heaven of such a God? Oh, that poor wife! How could you have had the heart to make her think God was so cruel?"
There was a dead silence; Elder Dean was too dumfounded to speak, and the others, looking at Helen's eyes flashing through her tears of passionate pain, were almost persuaded that she was right. They waited to hear more, but she turned and hurried away, her breath quick, and a tightened feeling in her throat.