"It may come to you again, if you seek to partake of the spiritual communion," urged Genevieve.
"I'm willing enough to try that. But I'll not risk any wine."
"You'll not?" she cried. "Afraid to taste the consecrated wine? Then you are weak!—you are a coward! And I thought you strong, despite your own confession!"
The outburst of reproach forced Blake to flinch. He muttered in protest, "Good Lord, Jenny! you don't mean to say you make this a part of the test?"
"Does it mean nothing to you that I long to have you share the communion with me?" she rejoined. "What must I think of you if you dare not venture to partake of that holy symbol, in the communion of all that is highest within you with the Father?"
Blake quivered as though the frosty air had at last sent a chill through his powerful frame.
"You insist?" he asked huskily.
"You are strong. You will do it," she replied.
"You don't know what it means. But, since you insist—" he reluctantly acquiesced. He added almost inaudibly, "Up against it for sure! Still—there have been times—"