work for
_Christ_, and not set up business for ourselves, and still expect him to
give the wages."

"Still," said Ruth, "I don't know. There seems to me to be nothing that
I am not willing to do. I can't think of anything so hard that I would
not unhesitatingly do it. I have changed wonderfully in that respect. A
little while ago I was not willing to do anything. Now I am ready for
anything that can be done."

"Are you?" Marion asked, with a visible shiver. "Ruth, are you _sure_?
I can't say that; I want to say it, and I pray that I may be able; yet I
can think of so many things that I might be called on to do that I
shrink from. I have given up trying to do them, and fallen back on the
promise, 'My grace is sufficient,' only praying, 'Lord, give me the
needed grace for to-day; I will not reach out for to-morrow.' And, Ruth,
I feel sure that neither you nor I must try to cover our past errors
with present usefulness. Nothing but the blood of Christ can cover _any_
wrong; we _must_ rest on that, and on that alone."

"I believe I only understand in part what you mean. I don't see how you
ever reached so far ahead of me in faith and in understanding. But I
believe you _are_ farther. Still, I can't think of anything that I am
not willing and ready to do. I wish I might be tried; I wish He would
give me some work, not of my own planning, that He might see how willing
I am to do anything."

This was Ruth's last remark to her friend that evening. Flossy and Eurie
both came in, and they went out to the meeting together, Ruth thinking
still of the talk they had, and feeling sure that she could do whatever
she found, and yet the Master was planning a way for her that very
evening, the entrance to which she had never seen, never dreamed of as
possible. So many ways he has for leading us! Blessed are those who have
come to the experience that makes them willing to be led, even in
darkness and blindness, trusting to the Sun of Righteousness for light.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE STRANGE STORY.

JUDGE ERSKINE was in his library, pacing slowly back and forth, his
forehead lined with heavy wrinkles, and his face wearing the expression
of one involved in deep and troubled thought. He had just come home from
the evening meeting, the last meeting of the series that had held the
attention of so many hearts during four weeks of harvest time.

Judge Erskine had been a silent and attentive listene