'Mother!' he said gently and tenderly. 'Pitt, I never would have believed this of you!' she said with bitter emphasis. 'You never could have believed anything so good of me.' 'What are you going to _do?_' she repeated vehemently. 'What does all this amount to? or is it anything but dissenting rant?' 'Anything but that,' he answered gravely. 'Mother, do you remember the words,--"No man when he hath lighted a lamp covereth it with a vessel, or putteth it under a bed; but putteth it on a stand, that they which enter in may see the light"? Every Christian is such a lighted lamp, intended for some special place and use. My special use and place I do not yet know; but this I know plainly, that my work in the world, one way or another, must be the Lord's work. For that I live henceforth.' 'You will go into the Church?' cried his mother. 'Not necessarily.' 'You will give up reading law?' 'No, I think not. At present it seems to me I had better finish what I have begun. But if I do, mother, my law will be only one of the means I have to work with for that one end.' 'And I suppose your money would be another?' 'Undoubtedly.' 'What has money to do with teaching people?' Miss Frere asked. It was the first word she had spoken; she spoke it seriously, not mockingly. The question brought his eyes round to her. 'Do you ask that?' said he. 'Every unreasoning, ignorant creature of humanity understands it. The love that would win them for heaven would also help them on earth; and if they do not see the one thing, they do not believe in the other.' 'Then-- But-- What do you propose?' 'It is simple enough,' he said. 'It is too simple for Betty and me,' said his mother. 'I would be obliged to you, Pitt, to answer her.' The young man's countenance changed; a shadow fell over it which raised Miss Frere's sympathy. He went into the house, however, for a Bible, and coming back with it sat down and read quietly and steadfastly the beautiful words in Isaiah: '"To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke. ... To deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house; when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh."' 'It would take a good deal of money, certainly,' said Miss Frere, 'to do all that; indeed, I hardly think all the fortunes in the world would be sufficient.' Pitt made no answer. He sat looking down at the page from which he had been reading. 'Nobody is required to do more than his part of the work,' said Mrs. Dallas. 'If Pitt will be contented with that'-- 'What is my part of it, mother?' 'Why, your share; what you can do properly and comfortably, without any fanaticism of sacrifice.' 'Must I not do all I can?' 'No, not all you _can_. You _could_ spend your whole fortune in it.' 'I was thinking, easily,' observed Miss Frere.