fluence efficiently in life； and retain absolutely till death。”
I shuddered as he spoke： I felt his influence in my marrow—his hold on my limbs。
“Seek one elsewhere than in me； St。 John： seek one fitted to you。”
“One fitted to my purpose； you mean—fitted to my vocation。 Again I tell you it is not the insignificant private individual—the mere man； with the man’s selfish senses—I wish to mate： it is the missionary。”
“And I will give the missionary my energies—it is all he wants—but not myself： that would be only adding the husk and shell to the kernel。 For them he has no use： I retain them。”
“You cannot—you ought not。 Do you think God will be satisfied with half an oblation？ Will He accept a mutilated sacrifice？ It is the cause of God I advocate： it is under His standard I enlist you。 I cannot accept on His behalf a divided allegiance： it must be entire。”
“Oh！ I will give my heart to God；” I said。 “You do not want it。”
I will not swear； reader； that there was not something of repressed sarcasm both in the tone in which I uttered this sentence； and in the feeling that acpanied it。 I had silently feared St。 John till now； because I had not understood him。 He had held me in awe； because he had held me in doubt。 How much of him was saint； how much mortal； I could not heretofore tell： but revelations were being made in this conference： the analysis of his nature was proceeding before my eyes。 I saw his fallibilities： I prehended them。 I understood that； sitting there where I did； on the bank of heath； and with that handsome form before me； I sat at the feet of a man； caring as I。 The veil fell from his hardness and despotism。 Having felt in him the presence of these qualities； I felt his imperfection and took courage。 I I m