le, but she answered distinctly, "I do
ca'e, Mr. Gregory."

"Thank you for that much; I don't count upon more than you have said.
Clementina, I am going to be a missionary. I think I shall ask to be
sent to China; I've not decided yet. My life will be hard; it will be
full of danger and privation; it will be exile. You will have to think
of sharing such a life if you think--"

He stopped; the time had come for her to speak, and she said, "I knew
you wanted to be a missionary--"

"And--and--you would go with me? You would"--He started toward her,
and she did not shrink from him, now; but he checked himself. "But you
mustn't, you know, for my sake."

"I don't believe I quite undastand," she faltered.

"You must not do it for me, but for what makes me do it. Without that
our life, our work, could have no consecration."

She gazed at him in patient, faintly smiling bewilderment, as if it were
something he would unriddle for her when he chose.

"We mustn't err in this; it would be worse than error; it would be
sin." He took a turn about the room, and then stopped before her. "Will
you--will you join me in a prayer for guidance, Clementina?"

"I--I don't know," she hesitated. "I will, but--do you think I had
betta?"

He began, "Why, surely"--After a moment he asked gravely, "You believe
that our actions will be guided aright, if we seek help?"

"Oh, yes--yes--"

"And that if we do not, we shall stumble in our ignorance?"

"I don't know. I never thought of that."

"Never thought of it--"

"We never did it in our family. Father always said that if we really
wanted to do right we could find the way." Gregory looked daunted, and
then he frowned darkly. "Are you provoked with me? Do you think what I
have said is wrong?"

"No, no! You must say what you believe. It would be double hypocrisy in
me if I prevented you."

"But I would do it, if you wanted me to," she said.

"Oh, for me, for ME!" he protested. "I will try to tell you what I mean,
and why you must not, for that very reason." But he had to speak of
himself, of the miracle of finding her again by the means which should
have lost her to him forever; and of the significance of this. Then it
appeared to him that he could not reject such a leading without error,
without sin. "Such a thing could not have merely happened."

It seemed so to Clementina, too; she eagerly consented that this was
something they must think of, as well. But the light waned, the
d