They walked for a moment in silence,—he, with a scowl upon his face. Seeing this, Adèle said plaintively,—
"It seems to me, Reuben, as if this might be only a solemn mockery of yours."
"You doubt me, then?" returned he like a flash.
"Do you not doubt yourself, Reuben? Have you never doubted yourself?" This with a glance that pierced him through.
"Good Heavens! are you turned preacher?" said he, bitterly. "Will you measure a heart by its dogmatic beliefs?"
"For shame, Reuben!"
And for a time both were silent. At last Adèle spoke again,—
"There is a sense of coming trouble that oppresses me strangely,—that tells me I must not listen to you, Reuben."
"I know it, Adèle; and it is for this I would cherish you, and protect you against all possible shame or indignities"——
"Shame! Indignities! What does this mean? What do you know, Reuben?"