“The worst of it is,” continued Donal, who once started was not ready to draw rein, “that those who chiefly advocate this extension of the family bonds, begin by loving their own immediate relations less than anybody else. Extension with them means slackening—as if any one could learn to love more by loving less, or go on to do better without doing well! He who loves his own little will not love others much.”
“But how can we love those who are nothing to us?” objected Miss Graeme.
“That would be impossible. The family relations are for the sake of developing a love rooted in a far deeper though less recognized relation.—But I beg your pardon, Miss Graeme. Little Davie alone is my pupil, and I forget myself.”
“I am very glad to listen to you,” returned Miss Graeme. “I cannot say I am prepared to agree with you. But it is something, in this out-of-the-way corner, to hear talk from which it is even worth while to differ.”
“Ah, you can have that here if you will!”
“Indeed!”
“I mean talk from which you would probably differ. There is an old man in the town who can talk better than ever I heard man before. But he is a poor man, with a despised handicraft, and none heed him. No community recognizes its great men till they are gone.”
“Where is the use then of being great?” said Miss Graeme.
“To be great,” answered Donal, “—to which the desire to be known of men is altogether destructive. To be great is to seem little in the eyes of men.”
Miss Graeme did not answer. She was not accustomed to consider things seriously. A good girl in a certain true sense, she had never yet seen that she had to be better, or indeed to be anything. But she was able to feel, though she was far from understanding him, that Donal was in earnest, and that was much. To recognize that a man means something, is a great step towards understanding him.