And when the nights were frigid and clear its
ruddy lights of lamp and hearth seemed to answer the downward gaze of
the stars in silent gratitude for conditions of happiness strangely
perfect for this imperfect world, and the town marvelled at the young
rector's grasp of his subject when his text was, "The heart knoweth his
own bitterness."
VII
THE HOUR STRIKES
But on a day in the very last of winter, when every one was in the thick
of all the year's tasks and cares, there came to Leonard this letter:--
LEONARD BYINGTON, ESQUIRE:
SIR,--I find myself compelled to ask that you consider your
acquaintanceship with my wife at an end. Doubtless this request will
give you more relief than surprise. The visible waste of your frame
and the loss of her exquisite bloom are proof enough that both you
and she have long been in daily dread of a far worse visitation.
It is not worse, because I know how sentimental your impotent and
conscience-plagued interchanges of affection have been. I shall permit
and assist you to keep this matter a secret. To let it be known would
instantly wreck your own career, and would blast at a breath the
fortunes of our church and of every one of both our kindreds. I will
therefore not at this time require you to resign your church office or
to break off those business intimacies with me which, though no longer
founded in personal esteem, are vital to interests that common decency
must move you to shield from new peril.
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