“Would you want to make that trouble greater?  More than she could bear?”

“I think I might help her to bear it.  Mrs. Coffin, you have been my truest friend, but one, in Trumet.  You have been like a mother to me.  But I have thought this out to the end and I shall go through with it.  It is my affair—­and hers.  If my own mother were alive and spoke as you do, I should still go through with it.  It is right, it is my life.  I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done.  I’m proud.  I’m proud of her.  And humble only when I think how unworthy I am to be her husband.  I suppose you are fearful of what my congregation will say.  Well, I’ve thought of that, too, and thought it through.  Whatever they say and whatever they do will make no difference.  Do you suppose I will let them keep me from her?  Please open that door.”

He was very tragic and handsome—­and young, as he stood there.  The tears overflowed the housekeeper’s eyes as she looked at him.  If her own love story had not been broken off at its beginning, if she had not thrown her life away, she might have had a son like that.  She would have given all that the years had in store for her, given it gladly, to have been able to open the door and bid him go.  But she was firm.

“It ain’t the congregation, John,” she said.  “Nor Trumet, nor your ministry.  That means more’n you think it does, now; but it ain’t that.  You mustn’t go to her because—­well, because she don’t want you to.”

“Doesn’t want me?  I know better.”  He laughed in supreme scorn.

“She doesn’t want you, John.  She wouldn’t see you if you went.  She would send you away again, sure, sartin sure.  She would.  And if you didn’t go when she sent you, you wouldn’t be the man I hope you are.  John, you mustn’t see Grace again.  She ain’t yours.  She belongs to some one else.”

“Some one else!” He repeated the words in a whisper.  “Some one else?  Why, Mrs. Coffin, you must be crazy!  If you expect me to—­”

“Hush! hush!  I ain’t crazy, though there’s times when I wonder I ain’t.  John, you and Grace have known each other for a few months, that’s all.  You’ve been attracted to her because she was pretty and educated and—­and sweet; and she’s liked you because you were about the only young person who could understand her and—­and all that.  And so you’ve been meetin’ and have come to believe—­you have, anyway—­that ’twas somethin’ more than likin’.  But you neither of you have stopped to think that a marriage between you two was as impossible as anything could be.  And, besides, there’s another man.  A man she’s known all her life and loved and respected—­”

“Stop, Mrs. Coffin! stop this wicked nonsense.  I won’t hear it.”

“John, Grace Van Horne is goin’ to marry Cap’n Nat Hammond.  There! that’s the livin’ truth.”

In his absolute confidence and faith he had again started for the door.  Now he wheeled and stared at her.  She nodded solemnly.