"Hard as it is, my darling," he said, "to fulfill that pledge, I must do it. I dare not do otherwise. In fact, lest I should waver again in my resolve, I immediately wrote the mission board, and am now appointed to my old field, to sail the coming October. I have placed myself under the instruction of a returned missionary, and shall prepare myself, as far as possible, during the intervening months for my life work. I know that you, painful as our separation will be, will nevertheless approve of my decision. As you once said, I by God's grace can now say, 'Though I cannot understand, yet I can trust him.'" The fair face was perhaps a trifle paler, but the voice that answered him was perfectly steady and almost triumphant in its tones: "It is all right, Ray. I knew of your struggle. These locks"--and she lightly brushed his hair--"have told the story of your anguish; but threaded as they are with gray they are infinitely more precious to me, for they tell of a victory won over self. Let me tell you too, Ray darling, I do not believe God has raised me from that sick bed for nothing. You may have to go out alone and for a time we may be separated. But I believe the Saviour has called me to that work, and sooner or later I shall toil by your side. It may seem unmaidenly, but I promise you that when duty at home is over, I shall hasten across the seas to you, and our union and our toil will perhaps be worth all the more because we have made even this our sacrifice for Jesus' sake." "God bless you for those words, darling; they have given me a hope that will brighten my toil and make me more willing to undergo the sacrifice," he replied. And, rising, he bent down over her fair face and pressed kiss after kiss upon her lips. "There, that will do, sir," she at length cried, with something of her old mirth, and struggling for breath; "nothing but the fact that you are so soon to leave me reconciles me to such prodigality on your part." Then, with tears coming into her eyes, "You will be with me as often as possible, Ray? Our long separation will come quickly, and I am selfish enough to want you with me every moment you can spare until then." "I will come down as often as possible until September," he answered. "Then I will come here, and remain until the hour of my departure is at hand." He went back to Easton the next morning happier, notwithstanding the approaching separation from Daisy, than he had been for months. He was in the line of duty again, and once more he was conscious of the Spirit's presence and power.