Ernest was silent, and Mr. Hillston concluded it would be prudent to say nothing more at that time. The young man went to his office soon after, and fell into deep thought. Was it possible, he asked himself, that he was destined to become a preacher? The thought became more intolerable as he reflected upon it. He wished that he had not tried his power of sermonizing, for it was this that had given origin to what Mr. Hillston had the boldness to pronounce a call to the ministry. Was it in this way that God chose his ministers? But suppose this was a divine call, how could he refuse to obey? Would he rebel against God’s expressed will? But surely this was no call, at least it was not sufficient. There certainly was no voice. He would wait, and pray for more light. Would he not lose Clara Vanclure? Would she ever consent to be a preacher’s wife? This latter question, propounded to himself, had some influence, probably in causing him to come to the conclusion not to rush hastily into the ministry upon an invitation which existed, he thought, only in his imagination. Accordingly, he endeavored to dismiss the perplexing subject from his mind. To his great relief, he found no difficulty in losing himself in the pages of a volume which he took from one of the shelves of his library. It was Dr. Dick’s “Philosophy of a Future State.” For pleasant and profitable Sunday reading, no better books can be found than Dick’s several volumes on moral and religious subjects. Ernest was so absorbed in his book that he thought no more about the “call to preach” for the remainder of the Sabbath evening. The next morning when he returned to his office as usual and began reading Blackstone, the words of the preacher’s text on the previous day suddenly flashed into his mind. He quickly dropped his book and began thinking. Presently he almost sprang from his seat, for on the opposite side of the table, on which his head had been resting, there sat a visitor, who was curiously gazing at him. “Ah! been asleep, have you?” said Mr. Vanclure, for it was he. “No, sir,” said Ernest confusedly, “I was in a sort of reverie.” “Things of that sort don’t pay much--no, sir, don’t pay much. I have been too busy all my life for anything of that kind. People must keep wide awake in this world to succeed--yes, sir, to succeed.” “My vocation is different from yours, Mr. Vanclure, you know. When we lawyers meet with a knotty problem sometimes, we stop to think, and occasionally we get to dreaming: it is not unnatural.” “Well,” said the old merchant abruptly, “I have come to say something about a delicate matter--a delicate matter. If it was ordinary business, I’d know how to begin--how to begin. But it’s another sort of affair.” “Just suppose it to be business of an ordinary character, Mr. Vanclure, and begin at once,” said Ernest with a feeling of dread.