ver altogether. We could pay him more
than the British Museum."

At this moment there was a sound outside of some one ascending the
stair, and directly afterward Mr. Lind entered the room. As he came in
Reitzei left.

"How do you do, Mr. Brand?" Lind said, shaking his visitor's hand with
great warmth. "Very glad to see you looking so well; hard work does not
hurt you, clearly. I hope I have not incommoded you in asking you to run
up to London?"

"Not at all," Brand said. "Molyneux came up with me last night."

"Ah! You have gained him over?"

"Quite."

"Again I congratulate you. Well, now, since we have begun upon business,
let us continue upon business."

He settled himself in his chair, as if for some serious talk. Brand
could not help being struck by the brisk, vivacious, energetic look of
this man; and on this morning he was even more than usually smartly
dressed. Was it his daughter who had put that flower in his button-hole?

"I will speak frankly to you, and as clear as I can in my poor English.
You must let me say, without flattery, that we are all very indebted to
you--very proud of you; we are glad to have you with us. And now that
you see farther and farther about our work, I trust you are not
disappointed. You understand at the outset you must take so much on
trust."

"I am not in the least disappointed; quite the reverse," Brand said; and
he remembered Calabressa, and spoke in as friendly a way as possible.
"Indeed, many a time I am sorry one cannot explain more fully to those
who are only inquiring. If they could only see at once all that is going
on, they would have no more doubt. And it is slow work with some of
them."

"Yes, certainly; no doubt. Well, to return, if you please: it is a
satisfaction you are not disappointed; that you believe we are doing a
good work; that you go with us. Very well. You have advanced grade by
grade; you see nothing to repent of; why not take the final step?"

"I don't quite understand you," he said, doubtfully.

"I will explain. You have given yourself to us--your time, your labor,
your future; but the final step of self-sacrifice--is it so very
difficult? In many cases it is merely a challenge: we say, 'Show that
you can trust us even for your very livelihood. Become absolutely
dependent on us, even for your food, your drink, your clothes.' In your
case, I admit, it is something more: it is an invitation to a very
considerable self-sacrifice. All the more