"Then the evil-thinking is the unreal self, and every one possesses a dual nature? I recognize that—it is the old story of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—but when one wakes up to find that even the good he thinks he has done is evil, because of the worm at the core, it becomes a mocking paradox," said Helen bitterly.
"No, dear; not the good he thinks and has done," opposed her companion gently, "for every good thought that has taken form in your consciousness, every good deed that has been the outgrowth of that thought, belongs to your true self, and nothing can rob you of it. Your efforts to conquer adverse circumstances, your determination to achieve success in your profession—I have recently heard Madam Ford sing, and have learned something of her career," the lady smilingly interposed—"and an honorable name and position for yourself and your child are all justifiable and praiseworthy. We have a right to set our standards high and do our utmost, with right motives, to attain them. But the undercurrent of bitterness, the sense of resentment, self-pity, self-righteousness—the thinking that is continually arguing about the faults and sins of the wrongdoer—everything that tends to self-justification by the condemnation of another is all wrong, and must be put out, if we hope ever to attain to our ideals, and know real peace of mind. It matters not how fair our outward living may seem, if the thinking is wrong."
"I began to realize something of this, that Sunday in church," said Helen. "It seemed as if a wonderful searchlight had been turned upon my inner self, revealing lurking demons I never dreamed I was harboring."
"Every one, sooner or later, must be sifted as wheat is sifted—must be refined as gold is refined; the dross and the chaff must be cast out," said her companion.
"Oh, tell me how!" Helen exclaimed. "One yearns to be pure in thought as well as in deed, but the wrong-thinking seems to go on and on of itself. How can it be conquered?"
"By putting self out of sight and giving loving service to others."
"To those who have done us desperate wrong?" panted Helen, with an inward shock.
"Even to those," said Mrs. Everleigh gently. "They need it most of all."
"Oh, you cannot mean that we should take them back into our hearts and lives, and nourish and serve them again as if no wrong had been done, when every law of God and man had been violated, every tendril of affection ruthlessly trampled upon!" Helen's voice was almost inaudible as she concluded.
Mrs. Everleigh did not immediately reply; she sat gravely thinking for several minutes.