A dark wave of color swept over Osmond’s face, then with outstretched hand, he said:
“I promise you that I will!”
This conversation closed, the pictures carefully laid away, their attention was called to the other occupants of the room. The first words that greeted their ears fell from the lips of Hilda. They listened.
“You speak of the prevailing spirit, of too little charity of man to fellowman,” said Hilda, “and again of single instances where charitable deeds rise to the heights of grandeur, only regretting that they are too few, too rare to be of any real value to humanity. Aye! they are indeed too rare; but I do not believe in charity. I do not like her. I have no room for her. Does she ever draw near to the side of justice? Is her garb not rather a cloak wherewith to hide all the abounding and heartless cruelty which seizes and retains the lion’s share of the product of all the weary hours of toil that produce the wealth wherewith these deeds of charity are done?
“But that is only one kind of charity. That charity which is supposed to overlook, to condone, and even to justify what society treats as faults and sins—O, how I hate it! For while charity pretends to do all this, in reality it condemns every idea, every thought, every action that is not in strict conformity with the prevailing standards and customs of artificial society. Charity enchains liberty; it blindfolds and fetters justice. No! a thousand times no! I scorn charity, no matter in what garb she may seek to approach.”
Hilda’s dark gray eyes shone with a lustrous light as she finished her animated speech. Imelda thought she had never seen her so attractive.
“Bravo, little girl,” she exclaimed, “your words ought to inspire brave hearts to noble deeds.”
Hilda blushed as she replied,
“O no, I do not aspire to so great honor; but at times I feel I must give way to my feelings. They oppress me so.”
“Will you permit me to ask a question?” It was Lawrence who spoke.