She rose. Her eyes were the brightest Jeff had ever seen. They were filled with an ardent tenderness. It was as if she were wrapped in a spiritual exaltation.
“Thank you. Thank you. I can't tell you what you've done for me.”
She turned and walked quickly away. To be dragged back to the commonplace at once was more than she could bear. First she must get alone with herself, must take stock of this new emotion that ran like wine through her blood. A pulse throbbed in her throat, for she was in a passionate glow of altruism.
“I'm glad of life—glad of it—glad of it!” she murmured through the veil she had lowered to screen her face from observation.
It had come to her as a revelation straight from Heaven that there can be no salvation without service. And the motive back of service must be love. Love! That was what Jesus had come to teach the world, and all these years it had warped and mystified his message.
She felt that life could never again be gray or colorless. For there was work waiting that she could do, service that she could give. And surely there could be no greater happiness than to find her work and do it gladly.
CHAPTER 17
All sorts of absurd assumptions pass current as fixed and
non-debatable standards. We might be free, and we tie
ourselves to the slavery of rutted convention. Afraid of
ideas, we come to no definite philosophy of life that is the
result of clear and pellucid thinking.
We must get rid of our bonds, but only in order to take on
new ones. For our convictions will shackle us. The
difference is that then we shall be servants of Truth and
not of dead Tradition.—From the Note Book of a Dreamer.
THE CHAPERONE EXPLAINS THAT THE REBEL IS IMPOSSIBLE AND THE CHAPERONED BEGS LEAVE TO DIFFER