Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. “I should think YOU could do all sorts of things. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man.
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