"ONLY a missionary. Ah, if I could only be one. A missionary! With a
mission and a message to my people! If only I had the gift of tongues,
of flaming, burning, illuminating speech, of heart-compelling speech! To
tell my people how to make this country truly great and truly free, how
to keep it free from the sordid things, the cruel things, the unjust,
the unclean, the loathsome things that have debased and degraded the
older nations, that are debasing and degrading even your young, great
nation. Ah, to be a missionary with a tongue of fire, with a message of
light! A missionary to my people to help them to high and worthy living,
to help them to God! ONLY a missionary! What would you have me? A
money-maker?"

He turned swiftly upon her, a magnetic, compelling personality. From the
furious scorn in his voice and in his flaming face she visibly shrank,
almost as if he had struck her.

"No!" she breathed. "Nothing else. Only a missionary."

Silent she stood, as if still under the spell of his words, her eyes
devouring his face.

"How your mother would have loved you, would have been proud of you,"
she said in a low tone. "Is--is there no one else to--to rejoice in
you?" she asked shyly, but eagerly.

He laughed aloud. "There's dad, dear old dad."

"And no one else?" Still with shy, eager eyes she held him.