of the mysteries which God alone
can read that our positions seemed to have been reversed since the day
before.

He was confused, agitated, and full of self reproaches, while I felt no
fear and no remorse, but only an indescribable joy, as if a new and
gracious life had suddenly dawned on me.

"I don't feel that I can leave England now," he said.

"You can and you must," I answered, and then I spoke of his expedition
as a great work which it was impossible to put off.

"Somebody else must do it, then," he said.

"Nobody else can, or shall," I replied.

"But our lives are for ever joined together now, and everything else
must go by the board."

"Nothing shall go by the board for my sake, Martin. I refuse and forbid
it."

Everything had been arranged, everything settled, great sums of money
had been subscribed out of faith in him, and him only, and a large
company was ready and waiting to sail under his command. He was the Man
of Destiny, therefore nothing--nothing whatever--must keep him back.

"Then if I must go, you must go too," he said. "I mean you must go with
me to London and wait there until I return."

"That is impossible," I answered.

The eyes of the world were on him now, and the heart of the world was
with him. If I did what he desired it would reflect dishonour on his
name, and he should not suffer for my sake under any circumstances.

"But think what may happen to you while I am away," he said.

"Nothing will happen while you are away, Martin."

"But how can you be so sure of the future when God alone knows what it
is to be?"

"Then God will provide for it," I said, and with that last answer he had
to be satisfied.

"You must take a letter from me at all events," said Martin, and sitting
at my desk he began to write one.

It is amazing to me now when I come to think of it that I could have
been so confident of myself and so indifferent to consequences. But I
was thinking of one thing only--that Martin must go on his great errand,
finish his great work and win his great reward, without making any
sacrifice for me.

After a few minutes he rose from the desk and handed me his letter.

"Here it is," he said. "If the worst comes to the worst you may find it
of some use some day."

I took it and doubled it and continued to hold it in my hand.

"Aren't you going to look at it!" he said.

"No."

"Not even to see whom it is written to?"

"That is unnecessary."

I thought I knew it