’"Anthony, have you ever heard the old saying, ’Don’t look at the thing that is asked for, but at the One who asks’?" ’"No, Sir." ’"Some people say you see then if it’s worth while." ’So I looked at _The Man_ who asked, and saw afresh God’s Son. And suddenly I perceived the limitless love of Him, and His unbounded sacrifice, and the whole divine patience and perfection and beauty of _The Man_, and I cried, in sudden surrender and adoration,— ’"Lord, I will go willingly, because I love You." ’And although _The King_ had had every right to give the order, He deigned instead to accept my long-delayed submission to His love. And presently He said,— ’"Oh, here’s Ross coming back in the duck punt with your supper. I must go." ’But I cried, "Oh, don’t leave me, stay to supper with us both." ’"I can’t to-night, Anthony, I simply must go in to Plymouth, and there’s an old woman in a cottage I must look in at on the way. You come to supper with Me instead on Sunday." ’So He departed over the fields to Plymouth, through clouds and trails of gorgeous blue and gold, and the water was all luminous from His footsteps, and the hills as He passed ablush with rose. As He went the sunset faded, and then suddenly the brightness all came back, for _The Man_ called to me again from the cliff above the water,— ’"Anthony, the climate on that other river isn’t fit for English women." ’"Oh, Beloved of my soul," I cried, "I am contented. I would not ask You for her back." ’Then He smiled and my Vision Splendid faded, but He left His peace behind, and the moon rose undimmed out of the ocean where the Helford River runs into the sea. ’And the reason that I’ve told you this, my dearest little daughter, is that you sound unhappy in your letters. You are haunted by a fear that _He_ may take things from you. But, darling, don’t you see that when you have Him you have everything. Oh, Meg, His strength! and the supreme perfection of His eyes. No brush can paint Him, no words describe Him. Oh, darling, won’t you be dutiful to Him and leave everything to His most unutterable love?’ But I can’t feel like daddy does about things. I can’t trust Him. I don’t even want to look at the One who asks if it means I have to give up anything. I love all my family so frightfully that I don’t know what I would do if He took any of them away. I only hope I would at least be civil to Him. I never could be ’dutiful’ about it. I have never really had a trouble, only that dreadful time when darling mother died, but then Michael came along so soon after that it seemed as if God had only taken away one love to give me back an even more perfect one. But since the war it seems to me that God is so relentless and so jealous. He won’t share hearts. He will have all or none, and I am growing to feel that it must be ’none’ with me. I am like that soul, pursued by the Hound of Heaven; I fear His ’following feet,’ I dread lest having Him I must have naught beside.