"It cannot be a memory," Jack interrupted, "for it is myself."
It was far from Dr. Sandeman's thought to blaspheme that creed of youth which stamps the signet of eternity upon its love, its joy, its suffering, its despair. Old as he was, his own heart had kept too young for that. He said, "When you return to your own land, you will find waiting for you interests and pursuits, cares and duties also, which will engross your energies, and fill your life."
"Not my life," Jack answered. "When I wedded Shushan, I wedded her race."
"If indeed God calls you to help in drying the tears of this 'Niobe of nations,' I can think of no higher calling," Dr. Sandeman answered with emotion.
"But for that hope," said Jack, "do you think I could leave this place? Do you think I could abandon all these helpless sufferers, and that heroic woman, whose name a thousand times over deserves the 'Saint' before it, if only we Protestants had a calendar of our own, as we ought?"
"But we never could," said the missionary with a smile; "it would need a page for every day. However, Miss Celandine herself is urging your departure."
"And things for the present seem quieter," Jack added. "Safe can nothing be, in this miserable land. I am glad Vahanian is staying; he will be a great help."
"Yes," said the missionary, "and he is glad to work here for the present, though he still keeps the dream and longing of his heart; and he thinks God will fulfil it one day, and allow him to make known the gospel of His grace to the Turks. Miss Celandine is beginning to gather in the orphans, a few of them—poor, destitute, starving little ones! Did you hear that Baron Vartonian has lent his house to give them shelter?"
"No; I am glad to think of the home I knew being used for such a purpose. And it will comfort his own desolate heart."