During the following days, she asked no counsel, save of God and her mother. Her mother laid her hand tenderly on her head, and said, “I dare not advise you. Follow your own heart, my child;” and when she prayed to God, she seemed to hear an echo of those words. She saw William often, but she spoke no word to dissuade him from his purpose. Had he been going to California to dig gold, she would have had much to say in favour of the humblest home under the protection of the old order-loving Commonwealth; but he had spoken so seriously of his sense of duty, that her womanly nature reverenced the manliness of his convictions; and she prayed that _his_ courage to dare might be equalled by _her_ fortitude to endure. It rained heavily on Sunday evening, so that the lovers could not take their accustomed walk; and the presence of others prevented a confidential interview. But when they parted at the door, Alice slipped a small package into William’s hand. When he arrived at home, he opened it with nervous haste, and found a small Bible, with a mark within it. An anchor was embroidered on the mark, with the word FAITH beneath it; and his eye was caught by pencil lines on the page, encircling the words: “Where thou goest, I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” “God bless her!” he exclaimed. “Now I can go forward with an undivided heart.” He kissed the anchor again and again, and, bowing his head on his hands, he wept as he had not wept since boyhood. To his deep and earnest nature, love and duty were sacred realities.