"It is not so easy for me," she answered, "who as a woman am debarred from a life of action, if even I had the wish for it, to advise you how you ought to begin." "I am ready for anything," cried he, excitedly.

"I am ready to write or speak against the abuses I see everywhere around me.

I am ready to cut myself adrift from the calling I have adopted, if it must be.

I will not leave a single corner of my innermost heart concealed, but will lay open my convictions as a man ought to do." His young friend was too wary to allow herself to be carried away by this sudden outburst, which she could not but regard with some misgiving.
"I think you ought to consider," she began, "that what we have hitherto been speaking of is a mere matter of scattered detail; there is scarcely any irreconcilable want of agreement between your ideas and those of Christianity in general." "But Christianity requires either an entire belief or else none at all, and I do not care to continue in my doubtful position any longer." "Yes; and besides," she continued, "I am quite willing to confess that I consider these forms and dogmas of but very slight importance.

Our conversation has only turned particularly on these points from the fact that you hold a position in the Church." "But that is not what we have been talking about," answered he, excitedly; "the real gist of the matter is, that you have been trying to rouse in me a consciousness of the personal responsibility which follows conviction." "Yes," answered she, "you are quite right; that is exactly what I was aiming at." "Whether I am in the Church or not, then, is not the question.