“But that is pure selfishness. That attitude is unworthy of you, Olga.”
The girl stirred restlessly. “I don’t want to be responsible for other girls,” she impatiently cried out.
“Have you any choice—you or I? We have promised to keep the law.”
“What law?”
“The law of love and service—have you forgotten?” Miss Laura repeated softly, “‘I purpose to bring my strength, my ambition, my heart’s desire, my joy, and my sorrow, to the fire of humankind. The fire that is called the love of man for man—the love of man for God.’”
Then for many minutes in the room there was silence broken only by the crackling of the fire, and the voices of the storm without. Olga sat motionless, the old sombre shadow brooding in her eyes. At last she stirred impatiently, and spoke.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Have you noticed Lizette Stone lately?” Miss Laura asked.
“Poor girl, I’m afraid most of you feel that way about her,” Laura said, with infinite pity in her voice. “She never looks happy, but lately there is something in her face that troubles me. She looks as if she had lost hope and courage, and were simply drifting. I’ve tried to win her confidence, but she will not talk with me about herself. I thought—at least, I hoped—that you might be able to find out what is the trouble.”