And yet he found time in which to love me and make me happy. But this
was accomplished only through my merging my life completely into his. I
learned shorthand and typewriting, and became his secretary. He insisted
that I succeeded in cutting his work in half; and so it was that I
schooled myself to understand his work. Our interests became mutual, and
we worked together and played together.

And then there were our sweet stolen moments in the midst of our
work--just a word, or caress, or flash of love-light; and our moments
were sweeter for being stolen. For we lived on the heights, where the
air was keen and sparkling, where the toil was for humanity, and where
sordidness and selfishness never entered. We loved love, and our love
was never smirched by anything less than the best. And this out of all
remains: I did not fail. I gave him rest--he who worked so hard for
others, my dear, tired-eyed mortalist.



CHAPTER XII

THE BISHOP


It was after my marriage that I chanced upon Bishop Morehouse. But I
must give the events in their proper sequence. After his outbreak at the
I. P. H. Convention, the Bishop, being a gentle soul, had yielded to
the friendly pressure brought to bear upon him, and had gone away on a
vacation. But he returned more fixed than ever in his determination
to preach the message of the Church. To the consternation of his
congregation, his first sermon was quite similar to the address he