Arthur and she sat down by that same old parlor window in the hush of the coming night; a few white clouds were spread like angel wings above and the early stars were shining in the west. They were silent for a while. Arthur and Beth were often silent when together, but the silence was a pleasing, not an embarrassing one.

"Are you sorry to leave home, Beth?" asked Arthur.

"Yes, I am; and would you believe it, I thought I'd be so glad to have a change, and yet it makes me sad now the time is drawing near."

They were silent again for a while.

"Arthur, do you know, I think it seems so hard for you to go away so far and be a missionary when you are so fond of home and home life."

He smiled tenderly upon her, but she did not know the meaning of that smile then as she knew a little later.

"It is my Father's will," he said with a sweeter, graver smile.

"Beth, do you not see how your talent could be used in the mission field?"

"He does not know I am going to marry Clarence," she thought with a smile, "and he is going to map out a life work for a maiden lady."

"No, I don't see how," she answered.

"You know there is a large proportion of the world that never read such a thing as a missionary book, and that if more such books were read, missions would be better supported. Now, if someone with bright talents were to write fascinating stories of Arabian life or life in Palestine, see how much interest would be aroused. But then you would need to live among the people and know their lives, and who would know them so well as a missionary?"

Beth smiled at his earnestness.

"Oh, no, Arthur; I couldn't do that."

His eyes filled in a moment with a sad, pleading look.

"Beth, can you refuse longer to surrender your life and your life's toil? Look, Beth," he said, pointing upward to the picture of Christ upon the wall, "can you refuse Him—can you refuse, Beth?"

"Oh, Arthur, don't," she said drooping her face.

"But I must, Beth! Will you enter your Father's service? Once again I ask you."

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