“Tell me, dear,” she asked him, for the third or fourth time, “are you sure this will be enough to keep you warm?—­for the nights are so very cold, you know; I do not like you to come back alone anyway.”

“I don’t think you would be much of a protection against danger,” laughed David.

“But it will be dark when you get back, dear.”

“It will only be about dusk,” was the reply; “I don’t mind that.”

Helen gazed at him wistfully for a minute, and then she went on:  “Do you not know what is the matter with me, David?  You frightened me to-day, and I cannot forget what you said.  Each time that it comes to my mind it makes me shudder.  Why should you say such fearful things to me?”

“I am very sorry,” said the other, gently.

“You simply must not talk to me so!” cried the girl; “if you do you will make me so that I cannot bear to leave you for an instant.  For those thoughts make my love for you simply desperate, David; I cry out to myself that I never have loved you enough, never told you enough!” And then she added pleadingly, “But oh, you know that I love you, do you not, dear?  Tell me.”

“Yes, I know it,” said the other gently, taking her in his arms and kissing her.

“Come back soon,” Helen went on, “and I will tell you once more how much I do; and then we can be happy again, and I won’t be afraid any more.  Please let me be happy, won’t you, David?”

“Yes, love, I will,” said the man with a smile.  “I do not think that I was wise ever to trouble you.”

Helen was silent for a while, then as a sudden thought occurred to her she added:  “David, I meant to tell you something—­do you know if those horrible thoughts keep haunting me, it is just this that they will make me do; you said that God was very good, and so I was thinking that I would show him how very much I love you, how I could really never get along without you, and how I care for nothing else in the world.  It seems to me to be such a little thing, that we should only just want to love; and truly, that is all I do want,—­I would not mind anything else in the world,—­I would go away from this little house and live in any poor place, and do all the work, and never care about anything else at all, if I just might have you.  That is really true, David, and I wish that you would know it, and that God would know it, and not expect me to think of such dreadful things as you talk of.”

As David gazed into her deep, earnest eyes he pressed her to him with a sudden burst of emotion.  “You have me now, dearest,” he whispered, “and oh, I shall trust the God who gave me this precious heart!”—­He kissed her once more in fervent love, and kissed her again and again until the clouds had left her face.  She leaned back and gazed at him, and was radiant with delight again.  “Oh—­oh—­oh!” she cried.  “David, it only makes me more full of wonder at the real truth!  For it is the truth, David, it is the truth—­that you are all mine!  It is so wonderful, and it makes me so happy,—­I seem to lose myself more in the thought every day!”