curious to find her first _obligation_. Not that she was
unconscious of many resting upon her already; but those were
vague, old, dimly recognized obligations; she meant to take
them up now definitely, in the order in which they might come.

She half paused at the name in the first verse, -- was there
not a shadow of obligation hanging around that? But if there
were, she would find it more clearly set forth and in detail
as she went on. She passed it for the present.

From that she went on smoothly as far as the twenty-first
verse. That stopped her.

"And she shall bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name
Jesus; for he shall save his people from their sins."

"'_His people_,' --" thought Elizabeth. "I am not one of his
people. Ought I not to be?"

The words of the passage did not say; but an imperative
whisper at her heart said "Ay!"

"_His people!_ -- but how can I be one of his people?" she
thought again. And impatience bade her turn over the leaf, and
find something more or something else; but conscience said,
"Stop -- and deal with this obligation first."

"What obligation? -- '_He shall save his people from their
sins_.' Then certainly I ought to let him save me from mine --
that is the least I can do. But what is the first thing -- the
first step to be taken? I wish Mr. Landholm was here to tell
me. --"

She allowed herself to read on to the end of the page, but
that gave her not much additional light. She would not turn
over the leaf; she had no business with the second obligation
till the first was mastered; she sat looking at the words in a
sort of impatient puzzle; and not permitting herself to look
forward, she turned back a leaf. That gave her but the
titlepage of the New Testament. She turned back another, to
the last chapter of the Old. Its opening words caught her eye.

"For behold, the day cometh that shall burn as an oven; and
all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be
stubble; and the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the
Lord of Hosts, that it shall leave them neither root nor
branch."

"_The proud, and they that do wickedly_ -- that is my character
and name truly," thought Elizabeth. "I am of them. -- And it is
from this, and this fate, that 'his people' shall be
delivered. But how shall I get to be of them?" Her eye glanced
restlessly up to the next words above --

"Then shall ye return and discern between the righteous and
the wicked, between