Beth was never to forget that Sunday afternoon.  Mr. Perth taught the Bible-class.  He was an enthusiastic man, reminding her somewhat of Arthur.  They were studying, that day, the approach of the Israelites to Canaan, and as Mr. Perth grew more earnest, Beth’s face wore a brighter look of interest.  Soon he laid aside historical retrospect, and talked of the heavenly Canaan toward which Christ’s people were journeying, a bright land shining in the sunlight of God’s love, joy in abundance, joy overflowing!  He looked so happy as he talked of that Divine love, changeless throughout all time, throughout all eternity—­a love that never forsakes, that lulls the weary like a cradle-song, a love that satisfies even the secret longings!  Oh, that woman heart of hers, how it yearned, yea, hungered for a love like that love, that could tread the earth in humiliation, bearing the cross of others’ guilt, dying there at Calvary!  She knew that old, old story well, but she drank it in like a little wondering child to-day.  What were those things He promised to those who would tread the shining pathway?  Life, peace, rest, hope, joy of earth, joy of heaven!  Oh, how she longed to go with them!  The tears were standing in her eyes, and her heart was beating faster.  But this one thing she must do, or turn aside from the promised land of God’s people.  Down at the feet of Jesus she must lay her all.  And what of that novel she had written?  Could she carry that over into this heavenly Canaan?  “The fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is.”  Hers would perish, she knew that well.  Highly moral, highly refined and scholarly, but what of its doubts, its shadows, its sorrows without hope, its supernatural gloom?  Beth was a master-artist in the field of gloom.  She knew how to make her readers shudder, but would that story of hers bring more joy into the world?  Would it sweeten life and warm human hearts?  Ah, no!  And yet, could she destroy it now, before its publication?  Could she bear the thought of it?  She loved it almost as a mother loves her child.  A look of indecision crossed her face.  But, just then, she seemed to hear the bells of heaven ringing forth their sweet Gospel call.  The bright sunshine and the angel voices of a higher life seemed to break in on her soul.  In a moment—­she never knew how it was—­she became willing to surrender all.  It was hardly a year since she had said nay to Arthur, when he asked her to lay her life at the feet of that same Jesus of Nazareth.  She refused then, and even one hour ago she would still have refused; but now she would have trudged the highways, poverty-stricken, unknown and obscure, for His dear sake.  She would have gone forth, like St. Paul, to the uttermost ends of the earth, she felt she loved Him so!  There were tears in her eyes, and a new joy seemed to throb in her heart.  She felt so kindly to everyone about her.  Was it an impulse or what?  She laid her hand softly on May Perth’s as she sat beside her, and May, looking into her eyes, seemed to read her heart.  She held her hand with a warm, loving pressure, and they were friends from that hour.