Courtland had made many speeches during his college days.  He had been the prince among his class for debate.  He had been proud of his ability as a speaker, and had delighted in being able to hold and sway an audience.  He had never known stage fright, nor dreaded appearing before people.  But ever since Burns had asked him if he would be willing to tell the story of the Presence to his people in the church before he left for his theological studies, Courtland had been just plain frightened.  He had consented.  Somehow he couldn’t do anything else, it was so obviously to his mind a “call”; but if had been a coward in any sense he would have run away that Saturday afternoon and got out of it all.  Only his horror of being “yellow” had kept him to his promise.

Since ascending to the platform he had been overcome by the audacity of the idea that he, a mere babe in knowledge, a recent scorner, should attempt to get up and tell a roomful of people, who knew far more about the Bible than he did, how he found Christ.  There were no words in which to tell anything!  They had all fled from his mind and it was a blank!

He dropped his head upon his hand in his weakness to pray for strength, and a great calm came to his soul.  The prayer and Bible-reading had steadied him, and he had been able to get hold of what he had to say as the story of the young man Saul progressed.  But when he heard himself being introduced so simply, and knew his time had come, he seemed to hear the words he had read that afternoon: 

     Fear not; for I am with thee:  be not dismayed; for I am thy
     God:  I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I
     will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.

Courtland lifted up his head and arose.  He faced the sea of faces that a few moments before had swum before his gaze as if they had been a million.  Then all at once Tennelly’s face stood out from all the rest, intent, curious, wondering, and Courtland knew that his opportunity had come to tell Tennelly about the Presence!

Tennelly, the man whom he loved above all other men!  Tennelly, the man who perhaps loved Gila and was to be close to her through life!  His fears vanished.  His soul burned within him.

Fixing his eyes on that fine, vivid face, Courtland began his story; and truly the words that he used must have been drawn red-hot from his heart, for he spoke as one inspired.  Simply, as if he were alone in the room with Tennelly, he looked into his friend’s eyes and told his story, forgetting all others present, intent only on making Tennelly see what Christ had been to him, what He was willing to be to Tennelly—­and Gila!  If they would!

Tennelly did not take his eyes from the speaker.  It was curious to see him so absorbed, Tennelly, who was so conventional, so careful what people thought, so always conscious of all elements in his environment.  It was as if his soul were sitting frankly in his eyes for the first time in his life, and things unsuspected, perhaps, even by himself, came out and showed themselves:  traits, weaknesses, possibilities; longings, too, and pride.