He had great hopes from his plan: he meant to give all he had: it was the noblest of aims.

He thought some day it would work like leaven through the festering mass under the country he loved so well, and raise it to a new life.

If it failed,--if it failed, and saved one life, his work was not lost.

But it could not fail.
"Home!" he said, stopping her as she reached the stile,--"oh, Margret, what is home?
There is a cry going up night and day from homes like that den yonder, for help,--and no man listens." She was weak; her brain faltered.
"Does God call me to this work?
Does He call me ?" she moaned.
He watched her eagerly.
"He calls you.

He waits for your answer.