The daylight came. I rose at dawn. I busied myself for an hour or two with arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in the order wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence. Meantime, I heard St. John quit his room. He stopped at my door: I feared he would knoo, but a slip of paper assed uhe door. I took it up. It bore these words—
「You left me too suddenly last night. Had you stayed but a little longer, you would have laid your hand on the Christian』s cross and the angel』s . I shall expect your clear decision when I return this day fht. Meantime, watd pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, is willing, but the flesh, I see, is weak. I shall pray for you hourly.—Yours, ST. JOHN.」
「My spirit,」 I answered mentally, 「is willing to do what is right; and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to aplish the will of Heaven, when ohat will is distinctly known to me. At any rate, it shall be strong enough to searquire—to grope an outlet from this cloud of doubt, and find the open day of certainty.」
It was the first of June; yet the m was overcast and chilly: rai fast on my casement. I heard the front-door open, and St. John pass out. Looking through the window, I saw him traverse the gardeook the way over the misty moors in the dire of Whitcross—there he would meet the coach.
「In a few more hours I shall succeed you in that track, cousin,」 thought I: 「I too have a coaeet at Whitcross. I too have some to see and ask after in England, before I depart for ever.」
It wanted yet two hours of breakfast-time. I filled the interval in walking softly about my room, and p the visitation which had given my plans their prese. I recalled that inward sensation I had experienced: for I could recall it, with all its unspeakable strangeness. I recalled the voice I had heard; again I questioned whe came, as vainly as before: it seemed i iernal world. I asked was it a mere nervous impression—a delusion? I could not ceive or believe: it was more like an inspiration. The wondrous shock of feeling had e like the earthquake which shook the foundations of Paul and Silas』s prison; it had opehe doors of the soul』s cell and loosed its bands—it had wake out of its sleep, whe sprang trembling, listening, aghast; then vibrated thrice a y startled ear, and in my quaki and through my spirit, whieither feared nor shook, but exulted as if in joy over the success of one effort it had been privileged to make, indepe of the cumbrous body.
「Ere many days,」 I said, as I terminated my musings, 「I will know something of him whose voice seemed last night to summon me. Letters have proved of no avail—personal inquiry shall replace them.」
At breakfast I annouo Diana and Mary that I was going a journey, and should be absent at least four days.
「Alone, Jahey asked.
「Yes; it was to see or hear news of a friend about whom I had for some time been uneasy.」
They might have said, as I have no doubt they thought, that they had believed me to be without any friends save them: for, indeed, I had often said so; but, with their true natural delicacy, they abstained from ent, except that Diana asked me if I was sure I was well enough to travel. I looked very pale, she observed. I replied, that nothing ailed me save ay of mind, which I hoped soon to alleviate.
It was easy to make my further arras; for I was troubled with no inquiries—no surmises. Having once explaio them that I could n