“John,” she said, “I couldn’t bear to think of your facin’ it alone up here.  I just had to come.”

He smiled, and the smile was as hopeless as the look in his eyes.

“Face it?” he repeated.  “Well, Mrs. Coffin, I must face it, I suppose.  I’ve been facing it ever since—­since I knew.  And I find it no easier.”

“John, what are you goin’ to do?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “Go away somewhere, first of all, I guess.  Go somewhere and—­and try to live it down.  I can’t, of course, but I must try.”

“Go away?  Leave Trumet and your church and your congregation?”

“Did you suppose I could stay here?”

“I hoped you would.”

“And see the same people and the same places?  And do the same things?  See—­see her!  Did you”—­he moved impatiently—­“did you expect me to attend the wedding?”

She put out her hand.  “I know it’ll be hard,” she said, “stayin’ here, I mean.  But your duty to others—­”

“Don’t you think we’ve heard enough about duty to others?  How about my duty to myself?”

“I guess that’s the last thing we ought to think about in the world, if we do try to be fair and square.  Your church thinks a heap of you, John.  They build on you.  You’ve done more in the little while you’ve been here than Mr. Langley did in his last fifteen years.  We’ve grown and we’re doin’ good—­doin’ it, not talkin’ it in prayer meetin’.  The parish committee likes you and the poor folks in the society love you.  Old Mrs. Prince was tellin’ me, only a little spell ago, that she didn’t know how she’d have pulled through this dreadful time if ’twa’n’t for you.  And there’s lots of others.  Are you goin’ to leave them?  And what reason will you give for leavin’?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know,” he answered.  “I may not give any.  But I shall go.”

“I don’t believe you will.  I don’t believe you’re that kind.  I’ve watched you pretty sharp since you and I have been livin’ together and I have more faith in you than that comes to.  You haven’t acted to me like a coward and I don’t think you’ll run away.”

“Mrs. Coffin, it is so easy for you to talk.  Perhaps if I were in your place I should be giving good advice about duty and not running away and so on.  But suppose you were in mine.”

“Well, suppose I was.”

“Suppose—­Oh, but there! it’s past supposing.”

“I don’t know’s ’tis.  My life hasn’t been all sunshine and fair winds, by no means.”

“That’s true.  I beg your pardon.  You have had troubles and, from what I hear, you’ve borne them bravely.  But you haven’t had to face anything like this.”

“Haven’t I?  Well, what is it you’re asked to face?  Disappointment?  I’ve faced that.  Sorrow and heartbreak?  I’ve faced them.”

“You’ve never been asked to sit quietly by and see the one you love more than all the world marry some one else.”