"But it is to jeopardize the very life you wish to use for them."
Mr. Rhys was silent for a moment, and when he spoke it was only to make a remark about the fern which lay displayed on the floor before Julia.
"That Hart's-tongue," said he, "I gathered from a cavern on the sea-coast—where it grew hanging down from the roof,—quantities of it."
"In a dark cavern, Mr. Rhys?" said Julia.
"Not in a dark part of the cavern. No, it grew only where it could have the light.—Miss Powle, I am of David's mind—'In God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do to me.'"
He looked up at Eleanor as he spoke. The slight smile, the look, in Eleanor's mood of mind, were like a coal of fire dropped into her heart. It burned. She said nothing; sat still and looked at the fern on the floor.
"But will you not feel afraid, Mr. Rhys?" said Julia.
"Why no, Julia. I shall have nothing to be afraid of. You forget who will be with me."
Julia with that jumped up and ran off to see about her fire and kettle in the other room. Eleanor and Mr. Rhys were left alone. The latter did not speak. Eleanor longed to hear more, and made a great effort.
"I do not understand you," she said hoarsely, for in the stir of her feelings she could not command a clear voice. "You say, He will be with you. What do you mean? We cannot see him now. How will he be with you?"