"I love those words," said Fleda. "But Mr. Carleton, how shall one be sure that one has a right to those other words--those I mean that you told to Hugh? One cannot take the comfort of them unless one is sure."
Her voice trembled.
"My dear Elfie, the promises have many of them their double--stamped with the very same signet--and if that sealed counterpart is your own, it is the sure earnest and title to the whole value of the promise."
"Well--in this case?" said Fleda eagerly.
"In this case,--God says, 'I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward.' Now see if your own heart can give the countersign,--'Thou art my portion, O Lord!'"
Fleda's head sank instantly and almost lay upon his arm.
"If you have the one, my dear Elfie, the other is yours--it is the note of hand of the maker of the promise--sure to be honoured. And if you want proof here it is,--and a threefold cord is not soon broken.--'Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.'"
There was a pause of some length. Fleda had lifted up her head, but walked along very quietly, not seeming to care to speak.
"Have you the countersign, Elfie?"
Fleda flashed a look at him, and only restrained herself from weeping again.