"Usefulness, I trust,—the doing faithfully the work that God gives me."
"And must I of necessity differ from you in this respect?"
"Miss Lottie, forgive me. I am not worthy of you. But can it be possible that you are willing to share in my humble, toilsome life? I fear you have no idea of the hardships and privations involved."
"I stood by you faithfully last night in the storm, did I not?" she said, with a shy, half-mischievous glance.
"It seems too good to be true," he said, in a low tone.
"Was there ever such a diffident, modest creature!" she said, brusquely. "Mr. Hemstead, you will never ENTER Heaven. The angels will have to pull you in."
"One angel has made a heaven of this dreary place already," he answered, seeking to draw her to him.
"Wait a moment; what do you mean, sir? I have made you no promises and given you no rights."
"But I have made you no end of promises, and given you absolute right over me. My every glance has said, 'Lottie Marsden, I am yours, body and soul, so far as a man with a conscience can be.'"
"All this counts for nothing," said Lottie, with a little impatient stamp of her foot. "I promised that dear old meddler, Uncle Dimmerly, that you, in deep humility and penitence for having arrogantly assumed that you could be a missionary and I couldn't, should ask me to be a home missionary; and you have wasted lots of precious time."