“Yes, we must give when there is no approving smile, no look of recognition; give when our giving makes us beggars, alone and friendless in the chill air of neglect.”
“This is but your own life. I have but put it into words for you to-night.”
“O, Hugh, you are ever on the mount, looking with calm, steady gaze over the dark mists. Your head rests in eternal sunshine, like the towering hill whose top is mantled with the golden light, even though its base is covered with fog. Shall we ever see the day when these inner, pivotal truths will be accepted?”
“We shall behold it in the lives of thousands. It matters not when, or where. Our part is to labor, to plant the seed, though it may not be our hands that garner the harvest.”
“True. I was selfish and looking for grain.”
“Not 'selfish.' The human soul seeks recognition, and finds it often a difficult task to wait for the presence of that human face which says in every line and feature, 'I know you; I feel your salient thoughts and motives.' A long time it takes us to learn to do without the approving smile of man, and go on our way with none but God and angels to sanction our efforts. I, too, have hours of darkness. All souls are at times tossed on heaving waters, that they may rise higher than their weary feet can climb.”
“You have done me good to-day; but do not go,” she said, seeing him rise to leave.
“I must; but first tell me if I can have your aid in a material matter, which I had nearly forgotten?”
“I am at your service.”
“Well, then, I am going to have a party, which I suppose is the last thing you would have imagined of me.”