Her friend knew well the saving power of work, and
gave her plenty of it; but it was a sort that at once interested and
absorbed her, so that she had little time for dangerous thoughts or
vain regrets. As he once said, Mr. Power made her own troubles seem
light by showing her others so terribly real and great that she was
ashamed to repine at her own lot.
Her gift of sympathy served her well, past experience gave her a
quick eye to read the truth in others, and the earnest desire to
help and comfort made her an excellent almoner for the rich, a
welcome friend to the poor. She was in just the right mood to give
herself gladly to any sort of sacrifice, and labored with a quiet
energy, painful to witness had any one known the hidden suffering
that would not let her rest.
If she had been a regular novel heroine at this crisis, she would
have grown gray in a single night, had a dangerous illness, gone
mad, or at least taken to pervading the house at unseasonable hours
with her back hair down and much wringing of the hands. Being only a
commonplace woman she did nothing so romantic, but instinctively
tried to sustain and comfort herself with the humble, wholesome
duties and affections which seldom fail to keep heads sane and
hearts safe.
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