senses to have had that distinction of person
which seems to be reserved for those who give themselves to thought
or high emotions. On entering his comfortable house, he was met by his
negro "help," who handed him his "mail": "I done brot these, Massa;
they's all." "Thanks, Pete," he replied abstractedly, going into his
cool study. He flung himself into an armchair before the writing-table,
and began to read the letters. Two were tossed aside carelessly, but on
opening the third he sat up with a quick exclamation. Here at last
was the "call" he had been expecting, a "call" from the deacons of the
Second Baptist Church in Chicago, asking him to come and minister to
their spiritual wants, and offering him ten thousand dollars a year for
his services.

For a moment exultation overcame every other feeling in the man. A light
flashed in his eyes as he exclaimed aloud: "It was that sermon did it!
What a good thing it was that I knew their senior deacon was in the
church on purpose to hear me! How well I brought in the apostrophe on
the cultivation of character that won me the prize at college! Ah, I
have never done anything finer than that, never! and perhaps never shall
now. I had been reading Channing then for months, was steeped in him;
but Channing has nothing as good as that in all his works. It has more
weight and dignity--dignity is the word--than anything he wrote. And
to think of its bringing me this! Ten thousand dollars a year and the
second church in Chicago, while here they think me well paid with five.
Chicago! I must accept it at once. Who knows, perhaps I shall get to New
York yet, and move as many thousands as here I move hundreds. No! not I.
I do not move them. I am weak and sinful. It is the Holy Spirit, and the
power of His grace. O Lord, I am thankful to Thee who hast been good to
me unworthy!" A pang of fear shot through him: "Perhaps He sends this to
win me away from Belle." His fancy called her up before him as she had
lain on the sofa. Again he saw the bright malicious glances and the red
lips, the full white throat, and the slim roundness of her figure. He
bowed his head upon his hands and groaned. "O Lord, help me! I know not
what to do. Help me, O Lord!"

As if prompted by a sudden inspiration, he started to his feet. "Now
she must answer! Now what will she say? Here _is_ the call. Ten thousand
dollars a year! What will she say to that?"

He spoke aloud in his excitement, all that was masculine