Reverend?"
"My cabin is under the hill, and in the winter time it is dark there and
I would like to have--have a never-failing lamp to lighten it."
"Oh," and her hands were pressed to her bosom, "You can't mean that."
"Ma'm, I don't joke about sacred things."
"Mr. Reverend--"
"If you would call me Jim one time--just once, I should have something
to dream about."
She gestured and he caught her hand. "Please don't," she pleaded, slowly
taking her hand away. "Please don't talk that way. You know I told you
that you had revived my faith in man, after it had gasped and died. But
you spoke a resurrecting word and--"
"But would my dreaming again and again that I had heard you call me
Jim--would that kill it again? Honey,--I--I beg your pardon. I am used
to talking to children, and I call them by pet names. I beg your
pardon."
She looked far away, at the blue water rippling down the hills. "If in
your sight I could be as a little child."
"Ma'm, I lead a child, but you could lead me."
"To walk with you, Mr. Reverend, would be along the upward path, toward
the sunrise.
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