“The facts are simply these,” the physician took up the word again, “and I am greatly surprised, and I may add greatly pained, that they have not apparently been understood before. Mr. Burgess will recover from this attack, and may have years yet of moderate health, but as for carrying out his purpose to go out as a foreign missionary, it is absolutely impossible. Such a course would simply be suicidal, and must not be considered for a moment.”
“Not now, perhaps,” Anna spoke very low, in a strange, muffled tone; “but it may be—later—?” and she turned her imploring eyes from the face of one man to the other.
“To be perfectly frank, my dear,” said Dr. Durham, pressing his hands nervously together, “after what the doctor has told me of the condition of our dear friend, the organic difficulty, and all that, you see—I fear that I can only, in justice to all concerned, state plainly that our Board would not be justified in sending him. I assure you the blow is a severe one to me in my capacity as secretary; for we regard Keith Burgess as, perhaps, the most promising candidate who has ever come before us. It is a dark Providence, and you will believe me that only a sense of our duty in the matter has led us to put the case so plainly before you.”
Anna did not speak.
“I was not aware, Miss Mallison,” said the physician, “until an hour ago, that you were yourself under appointment as a missionary. When I learned this fact, it seemed to me that you should not enter upon the proposed line of action without knowing clearly that it involves giving up your chosen career,” and with these words the doctor bowed and turned to withdraw.
Anna turned to Dr. Durham.
“Mr. Burgess does not know that he must give up—?” she asked.
“No, oh, no,” was the reply; “the doctor says that he must on no account be allowed to learn it until he is stronger. His heart is so entirely bound up in this noble purpose, that the blow will be a terrible one when it comes.”
“We must wait, Miss Mallison, until he is as far as may be recovered, before we allow him to even suspect the actual state of the case;” the doctor added this, looking at Anna’s face with surprise and concern. “If I can serve you in any way, do not fail to call upon me. For the present I must say good evening,” and he hastened away.
Dr. Durham followed, walking along the hall by his side. The look in Anna’s face awed him. He felt that it was not his right to share in an hour of such conflict as this bade fair to be to her, for he perceived already something of what her missionary vocation meant to her. Anna, however, did not notice that he had gone; the crisis was too great to permit her paying heed to the accidental circumstances around her. A voice in her heart seemed crying with constant iteration, “Father! Father! What does God mean?”