Esther was staggered by this view of the subject, and had to fall back on her common-places:  “But you make me say every Sunday that I believe in things I don’t believe at all.”

“But I suppose you believe at last in something, do you not?” asked Hazard.  “Somewhere there must be common ground for us to stand on; and our church makes very large—­I think too large, allowances for difference.  For my own part, I accept tradition outright, because I think it wiser to receive a mystery than to weaken faith; but no one exacts such strictness from you.  There are scores of clergymen to-day in our pulpits who are in my eyes little better than open skeptics, yet I am not allowed to refuse communion with them.  Why should you refuse it with me?  You must at last trust in some mysterious and humanly incomprehensible form of words.  Even Strong has to do this.  Why may you not take mine?”

“I hardly know what to trust in,” said Esther sadly.

“Then trust in me.”

“I wish I could, but—­”

“But what?  Tell me frankly where your want of confidence lies.”

“I want to tell you, but I’m afraid.  This is what has stood between us from the first.  If I told you what was on my lips, you would think it an insult.  Don’t drive me into offending you!  If you knew how much I want to keep your friendship, you would not force me to say such things.”

“I will not be offended,” answered Hazard gayly.  “I can stand almost any thing except being told that you no longer love me.”

It wrung Esther’s heart to throw away a love so pure and devoted.  She felt ashamed of her fears and of herself.  As he spoke, her ears seemed to hear a running echo:  “Mistress, know yourself!  Down on your knees, and thank heaven fasting for a good man’s love!” She sat some moments silent while he gazed into her face, and her eyes wandered out to the gloomy and cloud-covered cataract.  She felt herself being swept over it.  Whichever way she moved, she had to look down into an abyss, and leap.

“Spare me!” she said at last.  “Why should you drive and force me to take this leap?  Are all men so tyrannical with women?  You do not quarrel with a man because he cannot give you his whole life.”

“I own it!” said Hazard warmly.  “I am tyrannical!  I want your whole life, and even more.  I will be put off with nothing else.  Don’t you see that I can’t retreat?  Put yourself in my place!  Think how you would act if you loved me as I love you!”

“Ah, be generous!” begged Esther.  “It is not my fault if you and your profession are one; and of all things on earth, to be half-married must be the worst torture.”