 called for as Brother Bulstrode in prayer
meetings, speaking on religious platforms, preaching in private houses. Again he
felt himself thinking of the ministry as possibly his vocation, and inclined
towards missionary labour. That was the happiest time of his life: that was the
spot he would have chosen now to awake in and find the rest a dream. The people
among whom Brother Bulstrode was distinguished were very few, but they were very
near to him, and stirred his satisfaction the more; his power stretched through
a narrow space, but he felt its effect the more intensely. He believed without
effort in the peculiar work of grace within him, and in the signs that God
intended him for special instrumentality.
    Then came the moment of transition; it was with the sense of promotion he
had when he, an orphan educated at a commercial charity-school, was invited to a
fine villa belonging to Mr. Dunkirk, the richest man in the congregation. Soon
he became an intimate there, honoured for his piety by the wife, marked out for
his ability by the husband, whose wealth was due to a flourishing city and
west-end trade. That was the setting-in of a new current for his ambition,
directing his prospects of »instrumentality« towards the uniting of
distinguished religious gifts with successful business.
    By-and-by came a decided external leading: a confidential subordinate
partner died, and nobody seemed to the principal so well fitted to fill the
severely-felt vacancy as his young friend Bulstrode, if he would become
confidential accountant. The offer was accepted. The business was a
pawnbroker's, of the most magnificent sort both in extent and profits; and on a
short acquaintance with it Bulstrode became aware that one source of magnificent
profit was the easy reception of any goods offered, without strict inquiry as to
where they came from. But there was a branch house at the west end, and no
pettiness or dinginess to give suggestions of shame.
    He remembered his first moments of shrinking. They were private, and were
filled with arguments; some of these taking the form of prayer. The business was
established and had old roots; is it not one thing to set up a new gin-palace
and another to accept an investment in an old one? The profits made out of lost
souls - where can the line be drawn at which they begin in human transactions?
Was it not even God's way of saving His chosen? »Thou knowest,« - the young
Bulstrode had said then, as the older Bulstrode was saying now - »Thou knowest
how
