Distress of soul ?--that meant some spiritual anxiety, and it had not the awfulness to her which a more tangible trouble, such as sickness, would have.
"What is it, John?
Tell me," she said, looking at him with overflowing love, but without an understanding sympathy; it was more that feeling which belongs to strong women, of maternal tenderness for the men they love, quite apart from an intellectual appreciation of their trouble.
John shook his head.

"I must bear it alone, Helen.

Do not ask me what it is; I cannot tell you yet." "You cannot tell me?
Oh, John, your sorrow belongs to me; don't shut me out; tell me, dear, and let me help you." "You cannot help me," he answered wearily; "only trust me when I say it is best for me not to tell you now; you shall know all there is to know, later.

Be patient just a few days,--until after the Sabbath.

Oh, bear with me,--I am in great sorrow, Helen; help me with silence." She put her arms around him, and in her caressing voice, with that deep note in it, she said, "It shall be just as you say, darling.