But for the moment his question seemed to her a temptation
of the devil, and, of course, resisted temptation made her faith
stronger than ever.

It was a deliciously cold spring night; Lewis had drawn the table, with
his books on it, close to the fire to try to keep warm, but he shivered,
even while his shoulders scorched, and somehow he could not keep his mind
on the black, rectangular characters of the Hebrew page before him.
He had been interested in Brother Nathan's explanation of Hosea's
forecasting of Shakerism, and he had admitted to himself that,
if Nathan was correct, there would be something to be said for Shakerism.
The idea made him vaguely uneasy, because, that "something" might be
so conclusive, that--But he could not face such a possibility.

He wanted to dig at the text, so that he might refute Nathan;
but somehow that night he was too dull to refute anybody, and by-and-by
he pushed the black-lettered page aside, and, crouching over the fire,
held out his hands to the blaze. He thought, vaguely, of the big
fireplace in the old study, and suddenly, in the chilly numbness
of his mind, he saw it--with such distinctness that he was startled.
Then, a moment later, it changed into the south chamber that
had been his mother's bedroom--he could even detect the faint
scent of rose-geranium that always hung about her; he noticed
that the green shutters on the west windows were bowed, and from
between them a line of sunshine fell across the matting on the floor
and touched the four-poster that had a chintz spread and valance.
How well he knew the faded roses and the cockatoos on that old chintz!
Over there by the window he had caught her crying that time he had
hurt her feelings, "just for his own pleasure"; the old stab of this
thought pierced through the feverish mists and touched the quick.