Chapter 36 THE daylight came. I rose at dawn. I busied myself for an hour or two with arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in the order wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence. Meantime, I heard St John quit his room. He stopped at my door. I feared he would knock — no, but a slip of paper was passed under the door. I took it up. It bore these words: 'You left me too suddenly last night. Had you stayed but a little longer, you would have laid your hand on the Christian's cross and the angel's crown. I shall expect your clear decision when I return this day fortnight. Meantime, watch and pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, is willing, but the flesh, I see, is weak. I shall pray for you hourly. — Yours, ST JOHN. 'My spirit, 'I answered mentally, ' is willing to do what is right; and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to accomplish the will of Heaven, when once that will is distinctly known to me. At any rate, it shall be strong enough to search — inquire — to grope an outlet from this cloud of doubt, and find the open day of certainty.' It was the first of June; yet the morning was overcast and chilly: rain beat fast on my casement. I heard the front door open, and St John pass out. Looking through the window, I saw him traverse the garden. He took the way over the misty moors in the direction of Whitcross; there he would meet the coach. 'In a few more hours I shall succeed you in that track, cousin, 'thought I: ' I too have a coach to meet at Whitcross. I too have some to see and ask after in England, before I depart for ever.' It wanted yet two hours of breakfast-time. I fill...
