in his hand and obeying the unexpected
appeal? Yet he felt no answering anger in return for the rebuke; he only
found himself comfortably admitting that if his father put it on the
score of expense he certainly had no right to give time or money that
did not belong to him. It was due to his parents that all his occupation
should henceforth be remunerative.

He put the letter away in his pocket, but, perhaps because he laid it
next his heart, the next day its cry awoke within him again, and would
not be silenced.

Christianity was identified in his mind with an exclusive way of life,
to him no longer good or true; but what of those stirring principles of
Socialism that were abroad in the world, flaunting themselves as
superior to Christianity? He was a child of the age, and dared not deny
its highest precepts. Who would go to these people if he did not go? As
to his father, he had coaxed him before for his own advantage; he could
coax him now for theirs if he would. He was sufficiently educated to
know that it was more glorious to die, even unrenowned, upon such a
mission, than to live in the prosperity that belongs to ordinary
covetousness, that should it be his duty to obey this call, no other
duty remained for him in its neglect.

His personal desire in the matter was neither more nor less noble than
are the average feelings of well-meaning people towards such enterprise.
He would have been glad to find an excellent excuse to think no more of
this mission--very glad indeed to have a more attractive opening for
work set before him; but, on the other hand, the thought of movement and
of fresh scenes was more attractive than staying where he was. Then, it
would be such a virtuous thing to do and to have done; his own
conscience and everyone who heard of the action must applaud it. And he
did not think so much of the applause of others as of the real
worthiness of the deed. Then, again, if he came back safely in the
spring, he hoped by that time the offer of some good post would be
waiting for him; and it would be more dignified to return from such an
excellent work to find it waiting, than to sit at home humbly longing
for its advent.

Caius went to Souris and questioned the merchants, talked to the
captains of the vessels in the port, saw the schooner upon which Madame
Le Maitre had engaged his passage. What seemed to him most strange in
the working out of this bit of his life's story, was that all that the
letter