"Do you believe," she asked very hurriedly, "what my husband told you last night—the story of his earthly immortality?"
"I really do not know," I answered, "whether I believe it or not. My reason assures me that it is impossible; and yet there is in Mr. Crowder's manner so much sincerity, so much—"
Contrary to her usual habits, I am sure, she interrupted me.
"Excuse me," she said, "but I must speak while I have the chance. You must believe what my husband has said to you. He has told me everything, and I know that it is impossible for him to tell a lie. I have not yet arranged my ideas in regard to this wonderful revelation, but I believe. If the time should ever come when I shall know I should not believe, that will be another matter. But he is my husband. I know him, I trust him. Will you not do the same?"
"I will do it," I exclaimed, "until the time comes when I shall know that I can not possibly do so."
She gave me her hand, and I shook it heartily.
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