the
occasion.

This ordination day was no exception. A class of ten stood up before
the examining committee and answered the questions put to them. Among
them stood Frederick Brent. He wished, he tried, to fail in his answers
and be rejected, even though it meant disgrace; but, try as he would, he
could not. Force of habit was too strong for him; or was it that some
unseen and relentless power was carrying him on and on against his will?
He clinched his hands; the beads of perspiration broke out on his brow;
but ever as the essential questions came to him his tongue seemed to
move of its own volition, without command from the brain, and the
murmurs of approval told him that he was answering aright. Never did man
struggle harder for brilliant success than this one for ignominious
failure. Then some whisper in his consciousness told him that it was
over. He felt the laying of hands upon his head. He heard the old
minister saying, "Behold, even from the lowliest God taketh His
workers," and he felt a flash of resentment, but it was only momentary.
He was benumbed. Something seemed to be saying in his mind, "Will the
old fool never have done?" But it did not appear to be himself. It was
afar off and apart from him. The next he knew, a wet cheek was laid
against his own. It was Aunt Hester. She was crying and holding his
hand. Afterwards people were shaking hands with him and offering their
congratulations; but he answered them in a helpless, mechanical way, as
he had answered the questions.

He sat through the sermon and heard it not. But some interest revived in
him as the appointments were being read. He heard the president say, "It
gives me pain to announce the resignation of one who has so long served
in the Master's vineyard, but our dear brother Simpson has decided that
he is too old for active work, and has asked to be retired. While we do
this with pain and sorrow for the loss--though we do not wholly lose
him--of so able a man, we feel that we cannot do better than appoint as
his successor in this charge the young man whom you have all seen so
brilliantly enter into the ranks of consecrated workers, the Rev.
Frederick Brent."

A murmur of approval went round the assembly, and a few open "amens"
broke forth as the unctuous old ecclesiastic sat down. It sounded to the
ears of the young preacher like the breaking of waves on a far-off
shore; and then the meaning of all that had happened sifted through his
benumbe