"No, I don't see how," she answered.

"You know there is a large proportion of the world that never read such
a thing as a missionary book, and that if more such books were read,
missions would be better supported. Now, if someone with bright talents
were to write fascinating stories of Arabian life or life in Palestine,
see how much interest would be aroused. But then you would need to live
among the people and know their lives, and who would know them so well
as a missionary?"

Beth smiled at his earnestness.

"Oh, no, Arthur; I couldn't do that."

His eyes filled in a moment with a sad, pleading look.

"Beth, can you refuse longer to surrender your life and your life's
toil? Look, Beth," he said, pointing upward to the picture of Christ
upon the wall, "can you refuse Him--can you refuse, Beth?"

"Oh, Arthur, don't," she said drooping her face.

"But I _must_, Beth! Will you enter your Father's service? Once again I
ask you."

Her eyes were turned away and she answered nothing.

"Beth," he said softly, "I have a more selfish reason for urging
you--for I love you, Beth. I have loved you since we were children
together. Will you be my own--my wife? It is a holy service I ask you to