oing out under human guidance, subject to
the defective laws and erring control of my feeble fellow-worms: my king,
my lawgiver, my captain, is the All-perfect. It seems strange to me that
all round me do not burn to enlist under the same banner,--to join in the
same enterprise."

"All have not your powers, and it would be folly for the feeble to wish
to march with the strong."

"I do not speak to the feeble, or think of them: I address only such as
are worthy of the work, and competent to accomplish it."

"Those are few in number, and difficult to discover."

"You say truly; but when found, it is right to stir them up--to urge and
exhort them to the effort--to show them what their gifts are, and why
they were given--to speak Heaven's message in their ear,--to offer them,
direct from God, a place in the ranks of His chosen."

"If they are really qualified for the task, will not their own hearts be
the first to inform them of it?"

I felt as if an awful charm was framing round and gathering over me: I
trembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare and
rivet the spell.

"And what does _your_ heart say?" demanded St. John.

"My heart is mute,--my heart is mute," I answered, struck and thrilled.

"Then I must speak for it," continued the deep, relentless voice. "Jane,
come with me to India: come as my helpmeet and fellow-labourer."

The glen and sky spun round: the hills heaved! It was as if I had heard
a summons from Heaven--as if a visionary messenger, like him of
Macedonia, had enounced, "Come over and help us!" But I was no
apostle,--I could not behold the herald,--I could not receive his call.

"Oh, St. John!" I cried, "have some mercy!"

I appealed to one who, in the discharge of what he believed his duty,
knew neither mercy nor remorse. He continued--

"God and nature intended you for a missionary's wife. It is not
personal, but mental endowments they have given you: you are formed for
labour, not for love. A missionary's wife you must--shall be. You shall
be mine: I claim you--not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign's
service."

"I am not fit for it: I have no vocation," I said.

He had calculated on these first objections: he was not irritated by
them. Indeed, as he leaned back against the crag behind him, folded his
arms on his chest, and fixed his countenance, I saw he was prepared for a
long and trying opposition, and had taken in a stock of patience to last
him