“If they are really qualified for the task, will not their own hearts be the first to inform them of it?”

I felt as if an awful charm was framing round and gathering over me:  I trembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare and rivet the spell.

“And what does your heart say?” demanded St. John.

“My heart is mute, —­ my heart is mute,” I answered, struck and thrilled.

“Then I must speak for it,” continued the deep, relentless voice.  “Jane, come with me to India:  come as my helpmeet and fellow-labourer.”

The glen and sky spun round:  the hills heaved!  It was as if I had heard a summons from Heaven —­ as if a visionary messenger, like him of Macedonia, had enounced, “Come over and help us!” But I was no apostle, —­ I could not behold the herald, —­ I could not receive his call.

“Oh, St. John!” I cried, “have some mercy!”

I appealed to one who, in the discharge of what he believed his duty, knew neither mercy nor remorse.  He continued —

“God and nature intended you for a missionary’s wife.  It is not personal, but mental endowments they have given you:  you are formed for labour, not for love.  A missionary’s wife you must —­ shall be.  You shall be mine:  I claim you —­ not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign’s service.”

“I am not fit for it:  I have no vocation,” I said.

He had calculated on these first objections:  he was not irritated by them.  Indeed, as he leaned back against the crag behind him, folded his arms on his chest, and fixed his countenance, I saw he was prepared for a long and trying opposition, and had taken in a stock of patience to last him to its close —­ resolved, however, that that close should be conquest for him.

“Humility, Jane,” said he, “is the groundwork of Christian virtues:  you say right that you are not fit for the work.  Who is fit for it?  Or who, that ever was truly called, believed himself worthy of the summons?  I, for instance, am but dust and ashes.  With St. Paul, I acknowledge myself the chiefest of sinners; but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me.  I know my Leader:  that He is just as well as mighty; and while He has chosen a feeble instrument to perform a great task, He will, from the boundless stores of His providence, supply the inadequacy of the means to the end.  Think like me, Jane —­ trust like me.  It is the Rock of Ages I ask you to lean on:  do not doubt but it will bear the weight of your human weakness.”

“I do not understand a missionary life:  I have never studied missionary labours.”

“There I, humble as I am, can give you the aid you want:  I can set you your task from hour to hour; stand by you always; help you from moment to moment.  This I could do in the beginning:  soon (for I know your powers) you would be as strong and apt as myself, and would not require my help.”