“Only the assistant minister’s wife. But do you think I have been blind, or that a happy, married woman like myself cannot see what has been going on where her dearest friend was concerned? Why, the very first night Mr. Stanton saw you, he was attracted to you.”

“That is what he tells me,” Virginia exclaimed. “And it helps us both a little to excuse the absurdly brief time we have known each other. Just think! Less than two weeks.”

“But neither of you are children, you know,” said Rachel slyly. “Let’s see. How old are you, Virginia?”

“I am thirty-four,” said Virginia, smiling. “And Mr. Stanton is forty. So of course we, as you say, are not children.”

“Do you call him Mr. Stanton?”

“I meant to have said”—Virginia paused shyly, almost as if Rachel were a male acquaintance—“Richard.”

“That sounds better to me. How delightful!” And Rachel hugged her again. “God has been good to you, Virginia, in giving you the love of a real man.”

“I know in my heart he has. For Richard saved my life in front of the church, and I believe, dear, I learned fully what he meant to me that day. And another thing I have not told you: the next day, the day Jesus went away, he talked with us and seemed to crown our love with the one great crown it needed.”

Rachel was silent, looking at Virginia with deepest interest.

Virginia’s face, happy, glowing with her newly found joy, was now wet with tears. “Jesus spoke to us with a comfort and a joy we do not know how to express or explain. He had seen from the first time he met us how necessary we were to each other. And then Richard told him that on the day of the riot, in the very midst of its confusion, or just as it was marvelously quieting under the astonishing command of Jesus, he knew, just as if Jesus had spoken, that he approved and commended and blessed our love for each other. Oh, we shall always carry with us all our lives his gracious benediction.

“Think of it, Rachel! We, Richard and I, have actually taken the hand of Jesus in the flesh and he himself in person has actually blessed our love with his spoken word and his gracious smile. It does not seem possible.”

“All of that astounding week seems impossible,” said Rachel gravely. “But we know how real it has all been. I never could have borne the death of Eloise if Jesus had not been here.” Rachel’s tears fell, but they were not bitter, only the natural human tears of motherly affection.

“Do you feel at any time as if Jesus ought to have brought her to life?”

“No. Not now. I have the greatest peace, Virginia, whenever I think of Eloise. Jesus gave me that peace.”