And as he left, an awful shyness came pressing in between me and the great man who sat on an Old Harpeth crag and held me so mercifully in his arms.
“Isn’t there a mistake somewhere?” I asked in fear and trembling. “Or did I really get born again, with you to help me?”
“Yes, love,” he answered softly. “This is the right way of things. I needed you; you, me. We were ready, and He let us touch hands in the storm, to be new created. Don’t you feel—kind of weak and young?”
“No,” I whispered just as softly. “Dreadfully strong. I know now how Eve felt when she put her hand to Adam’s side, where there wasn’t even a scar, and didn’t have to ask where she really came from.”
THE LETTER THAT REALLY WAS SENT
Hillsboro, Tennessee, May 30.
My dear Evelyn:
Yes, I know it sounds dreadful for him, that I’m going to marry Gates Attwood next month; but I am going to be better than you can believe I will. I tried to write you all about it, but I couldn’t. No, that isn’t exactly true. I did, but Gates is wearing the letter in his left breast pocket, and won’t give it up. Everybody will just have to trust him with me because he does; and he must know what’s best, because God trusts him. Please come home in time for the wedding. I need you, but I haven’t made any plans. I can’t think or plan. I’m feeling. Were you ever born again? If you have been, you will know what I’m talking about when I tell you; and if you haven’t, you will think I am crazy.
Lovingly,
HELEN.
