"I should prefer not to speak to Mr. Cloudesley, madam; but I will think of what you have said. I am not vexed that you should speak plainly; I like plain speaking. I don't see that you are right, though; and if I did, I doubt that I could change now."
"Shall I tell you how to begin?" said May.
He shook his head; but she went on: "Help some one, be kind to some one who needs kindness; use some of your money to relieve those who need relief; say kind words to some one in sorrow. That's the soil in which you must grow your Christmas roses," she concluded with a smile.
Trulock looked argumentative.
"Madam," said he; "you will say I am no judge, but I have heard so many sermons against that kind of thing. It seems to me that you imply that I can be saved by works."
"There is no question here of being saved," said May, quickly. "You must be saved by the Lord Jesus Christ, or not at all. But you say you have faith, and I say with St. James—'Show me thy faith by thy works'; for I think that a faith which leaves us just what nature made us, must be a dead faith, don't you? We all have our besetting sin to conquer, and it seems to me that pride is yours; but if you had love in your heart it would turn out pride. And I think that though we cannot make ourselves feel love all at once, yet we can do kind things, and then our hearts will grow soft and warm. And I am sure that if you were doing kind things for others, you would not dislike so much to accept kindness from others; at least, I think so. But I am very young and ignorant, and, I'm afraid, very presumptuous too, to talk to you like this. You'll forgive me, though, won't you, Mr. Trulock?"
She looked up so sweetly, that he found himself assuring her that he had nothing to forgive, which a moment before had not been his opinion at all.
May went home and told her husband all that had passed.
"Well," said he, "you told him some plain truths, May; but you were quite right. Now we must let him alone a bit. I fancy he will not stand too much good advice; we'll wait and see how things go."
In May's opinion, things did not go well. Mr. Trulock changed none of his habits, and was always out when she called. Mrs. Short assured her that he was living like a slave or a wild Indian, just bread and water on week days, and a morsel of meat on Sundays only, and a cup of tea once in a way—not regular at all. Miss Jones said she had invited him to dine with her, and that he had refused, not very courteously. And May had no choice but to follow her husband's advice and "let him alone," for the simple but sufficient reason that she could by no means get at him.