“Are you telling me the truth?”

“I tell you the solemn truth that the doctrine of the Trinity is not so difficult to accept for a working proposition as any one of the axioms of physics.  The wife of my mathematical colleague, to my knowledge, never even stopped to ask whether it was true that a point had neither length, breadth nor thickness.”

Esther pondered a few moments, looking into the fire with a grave face.  Then she went on: 

“You are not talking honestly.  Why should I dare tell you that your old fossil bones are a humbug, when I would not for the world talk so to Mr. Hazard?  You don’t care whether geology is true or not.”

“Well, no, not much!” said Strong.  “I should care more if you told me that my best Japanese lacquer was modern.”

“Besides,” said Esther; “you have not answered my question.  I want to know what you think, and you won’t tell me.  Oh! don’t let me lose faith in you too!  I know your opinions.  You think the whole church a piece of superstition.  I’ve heard you say so, and I want you to tell me why.  You’re my cousin and I’ve a right to your help, but you won’t give it.”

“You are a desperate little tyrant,” said Strong laughing.  “You always were.  Do you remember how we fought when we were children because you would have your own way?  I used to give in then, but I am old now, and obstinate.”

“I know that you always ended by making me go your way,” replied Esther; “but that was because I never cared much where I went.  Now it is a matter of life and death.  I can’t move a step, or even let our engagement be announced until I feel sure that I shall not be a load on his neck.  Do you think I should hesitate to break it off, even if I broke my heart with it, if I thought it was going to bring trouble on him?”

Against this assault jesting was out of the question.  Strong was forced out of this line of defense and found himself in an awkward position.  Esther, not outwardly excited, but leaning her chin on her hand, and gazing into the fire with a look of set will, had the calmness of despair.  Strong was staggered and hesitated.

“The trouble with you is that you start wrong,” said he at length.  “You need what is called faith, and are trying to get it by reason.  It can’t be done.  Faith is a state of mind, like love or jealousy.  You can never reason yourself into it.”

“So Mr. Hazard says,” rejoined Esther.  “He tells me to wait and it will come, but he wants me to go on just as though I were certain of its coming.  I can’t wait.  If it does not come quickly, I must do something desperate.  Now tell me what you would do to get faith if the happiness of your whole life hung on it.”