"Why shouldn't you think?—Toney, I want to ask you a question. Will you let me take care of you, and together we should do a great work for the Master. Your money, I need not say, should be for the Master's cause. Will you be my wife, dear Toney?"
Toney stood transfixed. This idea had never entered her head in connection with Mr. Hales. He was her embodiment of all that was good, but far out of her sphere, poor Harum Scarum Toney.
"Gracious stars! You don't mean it?"
"Yes, I do."
Toney shook her head.
"I wish I could, I do wish I could say 'Yes.' You are so good and just a holy man, but—I'm going to be an old maid—I saw Jeanie's face when Mr. Weston was near her and—then I knew—I could say love, honour, and obey, but even that wouldn't be the real thing!"
"Thank you, Toney—" he said, taking her hand; "you're honest, as always; but we shall be friends still?"
"I should think so!"
"Forget the rest. I had had a vision of missionary work and the great harvest waiting for workers, but I am content to wait here."
"You saw a vision?" repeated Toney, "and I'm just ordinary flesh and blood, and not at all like a vision—Good-bye! I'm going to 'The Haven'—you won't tell anyone, will you, not Silvia or Mrs. Hales? They wouldn't understand how much I love my dear old master."