“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　crown。　I　shall　expect　your　clear　decision　when　I　return　this　day　fortnight。　Meantime；　watch　and　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　acplish　the　will　of　Heaven；　when　once　that　will　is　distinctly　known　to　me。　At　any　rate；　it　shall　be　strong　enough　to　search—inquire—to　grope　an　outlet　from　this　cloud　of　doubt；　and　find　the　open　day　of　certainty。”

It　was　the　first　of　June；　yet　the　morning　was　overcast　and　chilly：　rain　beat　fast　on　my　casement。　I　heard　the　front…door　open；　and　St。　John　pass　out。　Looking　through　the　window；　I　saw　him　traverse　the　garden。　He　took　the　way　over　the　misty　moors　in　the　direction　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　coach　to　meet　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　pondering　the　visitation　which　had　given　my　plans　their　present　bent。　I　recalled　that　inward　sensation　I　had　experienced：　for　I　could　recall　it；　with