“We cannot possibly let you go from among us,” he said sternly. “We shall not; we need you; we need you. You have a touch of the magic; you are a born evangelist; you go into regions where none can follow.”
“Nature has spoken,” said William Jordan softly. “At dawn I obey her decree.”
“No, no, no!” cried his comrade, “your work lies here. You were born for this. Nature formed you to labour for your kind; and you must labour for them all your days.”
“You speak truly,” said William Jordan, “but then my labours are not yet begun.”
“Are not these your labours?” cried his fellow-worker. “Can you not wield your power upon those whom we others know not how to approach? Have you not worked wonders among us during the few short months in which you have laboured?”
“Wonders,” said William Jordan, with a tender melancholy in his voice. “Can you tell me what are these wonders in comparison with those that I have still to perform?”
“I do not understand you, I do not follow you,” said the other.
“No,” said William Jordan, “you do not understand, yet perhaps it is well.”
“But I swear to heaven,” cried his fellow-worker, with hoarse passion, “you shall not go from among us like this.”
The passion of this stalwart man was such that all unthinkingly he seized the frail form of the young man, and in the might of his conviction shook it fiercely.