“And do you really hold this as a common moral principle? If so, I fear you will soar too high.”
“No, dear lady. You were startled when I ventured to maintain that inward and unseen virtue was as necessary as the outward and visible: I fear I must surprise you still more.”
“Go on, and do not fear to tell me all.”
“Well, then, the principle of that system which I profess is this: that we must treat and practise, as every-day and common virtue, nay, as simple duty, whatever any other code, the purest and sublimest that may be, considers heroic, and proof of transcendent virtue.”
“That is indeed a sublime standard to form, of moral elevation; but mark the difference between the two cases. The hero is supported by the praises of the world: his act is recorded and transmitted to posterity, when he checks his passions, and performs a sublime action. But who sees, cares for, or shall requite, the poor obscure wretch, who in humble secrecy imitates his conduct?”
Syra, with solemn, reverential look and gesture, raised her eyes and her right hand to heaven, and slowly said: “His Father, who is in heaven, who maketh His sun to rise on the good and the bad, and raineth on the just and the unjust.”
Fabiola paused for a time, overawed: then said affectionately and respectfully: “Again, Syra, you have conquered my philosophy. Your wisdom is consistent as it is sublime. A virtue heroic, even when unseen, you propose as the ordinary daily virtue of every one. Men must indeed become more than what gods have been thought to be, to attempt it; but the very idea is worth a whole philosophy. Can you lead me higher than this?”
“Oh, far!—far higher still.”
“And where at length would you leave me?”
