"His kingdom was not by the sword, my darling."
"Oh, I am so tired," she said, wearily, "so broken-hearted!"
"But you believe it?" said Justin, in a trembling voice. "It appeals to you as the truth?"
"Oh, yes, yes, that is truth. But they killed Him."
"He rose again, my darling. Did you read beyond the crucifixion?"
"No, no."
He reached past her for the Bible; and, in a solemn ecstasy, reverently unfolded to her the marvellously sweet and beautiful occurrences of the first day of the week so long ago.
Her distress left her little by little, and when he concluded with the words, "And they were continually in the temple praising and blessing God," she started up. "Now I understand. It was all planned. What those men called prophets spoke was all true. But, Justin, why have I never heard before? It is so wonderful, so astonishing! My father must have read this book,—he never told me."
Justin was silent. This book was a sealed mystery to her father. He did not care to know what was in it.
"Derrice," he said, at last, "when I married you I knew that I could not keep you wholly to myself. There are people who will tell you to beware of this book, that its teachings are narrow and hard to obey, that it is the work of men's hands, but you,—you see its divine origin. Now you are armed, I do not fear for you."