“You are the most generous of mortals, the noblest of women,” said Ezra earnestly. “It was assuredly the brightest day of my life that led me across your path. You taught me how to live, and to-night your generous hand has saved me from death.”
“Hush!” said Madame faintly.
“I owe my life to you,” repeated Ezra. “What shall I do to repay such a debt?”
“Am I a usurer that I should exact my pound of flesh?” answered Madame.
“Usurer!” exclaimed Ezra. “That is indeed the last word to be applied to you. Is a usurer one who is always giving? Giving from her wealth freely and without stint? Is a usurer one who is ever helping and directing into the paths of righteousness those who are feeble and faltering of step? Ah, Madame, I never can half tell you all that I owe you! How narrow and selfish would my life have been but for you! Devoted to petty cares, absorbed in personal ambitions, rejoicing in sordid gains,—such would have been my fate, only Providence brought me to you to be taught, guided, elevated, purified. My life is yours, you have made it, dearest, wisest, best, of friends.”
“And Olive?” said Madame quietly.
“Ah, there too shall be your handiwork seen,” said Ezra. “My little Olive is very young. Sometimes I think her mind is even younger than her body, and she is barely twenty, you know, a mere child and easily moulded.”
Madame remembering her last encounter with Olive, seemed to recall very little that was either childlike or plastic in the concluding portion of their conversation, but she did not say so to Ezra who went on talking.
“She often, however, puzzles me, she has such sudden freaks and fancies, as if her heart was a wild creature not fully tamed and ever dashing against the bars of its environment. I sometimes feel that I have not the necessary wisdom or tact to guide and counsel her. She seems to need someone who is wiser and more skilful than I am. Sometimes I fear she does not quite realise the responsibilities of life. The problems which have come up before us and which cry aloud for solution, seem to her but trivial matters that may be trusted to settle themselves. We must endeavour, dear friend, to arouse Olive’s enthusiasm about Perfection City. She is capable of the highest and noblest aspirations, but her heart must be turned into the right direction. She evinces a certain hesitancy in throwing herself into our work and aims.”
“Perhaps she is opposed to the whole thing,” suggested Madame.