his outspread arms on the table and bowing his head upon them he cried:

"My God, forgive me! I cannot hear Thy voice, nor feel Thy presence. I
can only see her face and feel her body."

And then hardened as by the consciousness of unforgivable blaspheming,
he rose with set face, lit his candle, and went to bed.

* * * * *

The week had passed much as usual with Mrs. Hooper and her husband. On
the Tuesday he had seen most of his brother Deacons and found that they
thought as he did. All were agreed that something should be done to
testify to their gratitude, if indeed their pastor refused the "call."
In the evening, after supper, Mr. Hooper narrated to his wife all that
he had done and all that the others had said. When he asked for her
opinion she approved of his efforts. A little while later she turned to
him: "I wonder why Mr. Letgood doesn't marry?" As she spoke she laid
down her work. With a tender smile the Deacon drew her on to his knees
in the armchair, and pushing up his spectacles (he had been reading a
dissertation on the meaning of the Greek verb [Greek: baptizo]) said
with infinite, playful tenderness in his voice:

"'Tain't every one can find a wife like you, my dear." He was rewarded
for the flattering phrase with a little slap on the cheek. He continued
thoughtfully: "'Taint every one either that wants to take care of a
wife. Some folks hain't got much affection in 'em, I guess; perhaps Mr.
Letgood hain't." To the which Mrs. Hooper answered not in words, but her
lips curved into what might be called a smile, a contented smile as from
the heights of superior knowledge.