"Yes, your life and your sister's centres round others," said Jean, with conviction. "Mine has centered round myself, but—but—I wonder if I shall come on to your centre, and then reach my right one at last?"
"What is your right one?" asked Barbara, looking puzzled.
Jean coloured. "I have been seeing things so differently lately—I mean from a religious point of view."
"Oh," said Barbara, with quick comprehension. "I see. I suppose the religious centre is the Church—our vicar would say so."
"Would he?" said Jean. "I was told it was Christ, and I've been looking it up in the Bible. St. Paul puts it, 'To me, to live is Christ.' But I'm just a beginner, and it seems so difficult to understand."
Barbara did not speak. Jean went on—
"You and your sister are so brave and unselfish and good, that I thought perhaps you might be able to help me."
"No," said Barbara, a slow flush coming into her pale cheeks. "You are quite mistaken in your opinion of us. It is entirely owing to the way one is brought up. You have had no cause to think of others, because you have had no 'others' belonging to you. We have been trained since our infancy, by principles and circumstances, to put our individual selves in the background. No credit is due to us for doing so. No high motive—I am speaking of myself now—except that of duty has influenced us. I daresay mine is not the highest centre, but it is the only one I am deeply interested in. My brothers and sisters come first with me. Their welfare is, I think, dearer to me than my own."
"I see," said Jean slowly. "Your love for them rules your life. And I suppose that is what a real Christian feels about Christ. Then of course, He would be the centre of their life."
There was silence again between them. Barbara with her quiet, sad eyes looked at this young, earnest-hearted girl with wonder. Was she groping after truths that she herself had let go by? Her life had been full, but Jean had touched upon a truth that might make it a fuller and a happier one.