"Dear Mrs. Ford," she at length began, "we each have different problems in life to solve, and it is difficult and perhaps unwise for one to say to another what he or she would do under certain circumstances which had never come into one's own experience. Loving service is that which best promotes the welfare of the one served. What might be loving service and helpful for one might be just the reverse for another. The wrongdoer must suffer for his wrongdoing, else he would never recognize or repent his sin; it would be doing irreparable injury to remove his punishment, restoring joys he had forfeited, privileges he had trampled upon. That would be encouraging sin. We are commanded to 'cast not our pearls before swine.' We must not continue to shower blessings and favors indiscriminately upon those who have shown themselves unappreciative and unworthy of past benefits. Having cut themselves adrift, it is theirs to work out their own salvation, and it is not our duty to again put ourselves in contact with the error that has deliberately wronged and wounded us. And yet, there is loving service that we can still render even these; we can think and speak kindly of them, giving honor where honor is due, compassion instead of condemnation for the errors that hold them in bondage. Such an attitude cannot fail to crowd out and conquer the bitterness, self-pity, self-righteousness, condemnation—everything that robs us of our peace. When we attain to this we shall know that we have no partnership with hate."
"I begin to understand something of what love means," Helen said, in a tone of awe. "I feel as if I were just beginning to see how to live. You surely have helped me to empty myself of much of the evil that seemed to be surging within me when I came here this afternoon. You have indeed 'poured in balm and oil,' and given me much food for thought."
She arose to leave as she spoke, holding out her hand, a look of grateful appreciation in her eyes.
"Oh, I am not going to let you go yet! I have not said half I wish," cried her hostess, clasping her extended hand, but forcing her gently back into her chair; and Helen, eager to learn more from the wisdom that fell from her lips, sank restfully down among her cushions again, and they talked on for an hour longer.
"How glad I am you came to me, Mrs. Ford!" Mrs. Everleigh observed, when she finally said she must go. "I hope to see you often after this—I shall make it my way to do so, if you will allow me. I heard you sing at the Wardsworths' shortly after we met in church, and I intended to be introduced to you at that time, but you had left when I asked to be presented. You have a great gift, and I am going to beg you to use it for me some time."
"It will give me great pleasure to do so, Mrs. Everleigh. I would love to show some appreciation of the good you have done me to-day," Helen heartily responded, adding, as her eyes sought those of her companion: "It is a privilege just to look into your peaceful face—one would think that no blight or sorrow had ever touched you in——"
Mrs. Everleigh's hand closed over Helen's almost spasmodically, and her lips whitened suddenly, as her glance sought the beautiful photograph resting on the onyx table beside the vase of forget-me-nots.
"No blight—no sorrow!" she repeated, as she gently drew her visitor a step nearer the likeness. "Oh, no one escapes the tragedies of this mortal life, my dear—they pass none of us by. This is a likeness of my daughter. Is she not beautiful? She was swept from my sight almost before I realized she was in danger. It seemed as if a whirlwind caught her away, and—she was all I had—the apple of my eye, the one darling of my heart. The blow left me with this crown of snow," she went on, touching with tremulous fingers the hair upon her forehead. "It broke my heart, crushed me to earth for the time being, and the battle I had to fight was much the same that you are fighting now. It is only step by step that we conquer in such experiences, but if we are sincere—'honest in mind and intention'—if we keep our armor on, and wield a merciless sword upon our secret foes, we must win in the end."
Helen was very near weeping again as she listened to her. Surely, she thought, the tragedies of earth pass no one by! Those in palace and hovel meet on common ground in these great heart sorrows. She lifted the hand she held, and softly laid her lips against it—she was powerless to speak one word.
But Mrs. Everleigh quickly quelled her momentary emotion, and her peaceful smile seemed like a benediction as she turned again to Helen.