Was this extravagance? The colonel pondered. It seemed to him a thing to be rebuked or repressed; he knew nothing of this kind in his own religious experience; he feared it was visionary and fanciful. But when he looked at Esther's face, the words died on his tongue which he would have spoken. Those happy eyes were so strong in their wistfulness, so grave in their happiness, that they forbade the charge of folly or fancifulness; nay, they were looking at something which the colonel wished he could himself see, if the sight brought such contentment. They stopped his mouth. He could not say what he thought to say, and his own eyes oddly fell before them.
'What does William Dallas know about all this?' he asked.
'Nothing, papa. I don't think he knows it at all.'
'Why did you write about it to him, then?'
'I was sure he would be glad for me, papa. Once, a good while ago, I asked Pitt what could be the meaning of a verse in the Bible; that beautiful verse in Numbers; and he could not tell me, though what he said gave me a great help. So I knew he would remember, and he would be glad. And I want him to know Jesus too.'
The colonel felt a little twinge of jealousy here; but Esther did not know, he reflected, that her own father was in equal destitution of that knowledge. Or was it all visionary that she had been saying, and his view of religion the right one after all? It must be the right one. Yet his religion had never given his face the expression that shone in Esther's now. It almost hurt him.
'And now you have comfort?' he said, after a moment's pause.
'Yes, papa. More than comfort.'
'Because you think that God looks upon you with favour.'
'Because I love Him, papa. I know Him and I love Him. And I know He loves me, and will do everything for me.'