She was silent then, but she shook and trembled and writhed. Her head was still where she had laid it; her face hidden.
"You are going through as great a trial, my poor wife, as almost ever falls to the lot of a mortal. But you will go through it, and come out from it; and then it will be found to have been 'unto praise and honour and glory'—by and by."
"O how can you tell?"
"I trust in God. And I trust you."
"But I think he will come—here to Pleasant Valley, I mean. And if he comes—here, to this house, I mean"—
"What then?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"About seeing him?"
"Yes."
"What you like best to do, Diana."