From that she went on smoothly as far as the twenty-first verse.  That stopped her.

“And she shall bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus; for he shall save his people from their sins.”

“‘His people,’ —­” thought Elizabeth.  “I am not one of his people.  Ought I not to be?”

The words of the passage did not say; but an imperative whisper at her heart said “Ay!”

“His people! —­ but how can I be one of his people?” she thought again.  And impatience bade her turn over the leaf, and find something more or something else; but conscience said, “Stop —­ and deal with this obligation first.”

“What obligation? —­ ’He shall save his people from their sins.’  Then certainly I ought to let him save me from mine —­ that is the least I can do.  But what is the first thing —­ the first step to be taken?  I wish Mr. Landholm was here to tell me. —­”

She allowed herself to read on to the end of the page, but that gave her not much additional light.  She would not turn over the leaf; she had no business with the second obligation till the first was mastered; she sat looking at the words in a sort of impatient puzzle; and not permitting herself to look forward, she turned back a leaf.  That gave her but the titlepage of the New Testament.  She turned back another, to the last chapter of the Old.  Its opening words caught her eye.

“For behold, the day cometh that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble; and the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the Lord of Hosts, that it shall leave them neither root nor branch.”

“The proud, and they that do wickedly —­ that is my character and name truly,” thought Elizabeth.  “I am of them. —­ And it is from this, and this fate, that ‘his people’ shall be delivered.  But how shall I get to be of them?” Her eye glanced restlessly up to the next words above —­

“Then shall ye return and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God and him that serveth him not.”

“‘Then,’ —­ in that day,” —­ thought Elizabeth, “I can discern between them now, without waiting for that. —­ Winthrop Landholm is one that serveth God —­ I am one that serve him not.  There is difference enough, I can see now —­ but this speaks of the difference at that day; another sort of difference. —­ Then I ought to be a servant of God —­”

The obligation was pretty plain.

“Well, I will, when I find out how,” —­ she began.  But conscience checked her.

“This is not the first chapter of Matthew,” she said then.  “I will go back to that.”

Her eye fell lower, to the words,

“But unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of Righteousness arise with healing in his wings.”

The tears started to Elizabeth’s eyes.  “This is that same who will save his people from their sins, —­ is it? —­ and that is his healing?  Oh, I want it! —­ There is too much difference between me and them.  He shall save his people from their sins, —­ I have plenty, —­ plenty.  But how? —­ and what shall I do?  It don’t tell me here.”