The man stopped, because he was looking at Helen; she had not made a sound, but her face had turned so white, and her lips were trembling so fearfully that he dared not go on; she gave a loud, choking cry and burst out wildly, “Oh, David—­David—­it is fiendish—­you have no right to punish me so!  Oh, have mercy upon me, for you are killing me!  You have no right to do it, I tell you it is a crime; you promised me your love, and if you loved me you would live for my sake, you would think of me!  A thing so cruel ought not to be—­it cannot be right—­God could never have meant a human soul to suffer so!  And there must be pardon in the world, there must be light—­it cannot all be torture like this!” She burst into a flood of tears and flung herself upon David’s bosom, sobbing again and again, “Oh, no, no, it is too fearful, oh, save me, save me!”

He did not answer her; as she looked up at him again she saw the same look of fearful woe, and read the cruel fact that there was no help, that her own grief and pleadings were only deepening the man’s wretchedness.  She stared at him for a long time; and when she spoke to him again it was with a sudden start, and in a strange, ghastly voice,—­“And then, David, there is no God?”

He trembled, but the words choked him as he tried to respond, and his head dropped; then at last she heard him moan, “Oh, how can God free my soul from this madness, how can he deliver me from such a curse?” Helen could say no more—­could only cling to him and sob in her fright.

So the day passed away, and another night came; and still the crushed and beaten soul was writhing in its misery, lost in blackness and despair; and still Helen read it all in his white and tortured features, and drank the full cup of his soul’s fiery pain.

They took no heed of the time; but it was long after darkness had fallen; and once when the girl had gone upstairs for a moment she heard David pacing about, and then heard a stifled cry.  She rushed down, and stopped short in the doorway.  For the man was upon his knees, his face uplifted in wild entreaty.  “Oh God, oh merciful God!” he sobbed; “all the days of my life I have sought for righteousness, labored and suffered to keep my soul alive!  And oh, was it all for this—­was it to go down in blackness and night, to die a beaten man, crushed and lost?  Oh, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it!  It cannot—­it must not be!”

He sank forward upon the sofa, and buried his head in his arms, and the girl could hear his breathing in the stillness; at last she crept across the room and knelt down beside him, and whispered softly in his ear, “You do not give me your heart any more, David?”

It was a long time before he answered her, and then it was to moan, “Oh, Helen, my heart is broken, I can give it to no one.  Once I had strength and faith, and could love; but now I am lost and ruined, and there is nothing that can save me.  I dare not live, and I dare not die, and I know not where to turn!”