Yet, though her days seemed to pass so busily and
cheerfully, it must be confessed that there were lonely vigils in
the night; and sometimes in the morning Christie's eyes were very
heavy, Christie's pillow wet with tears.
But life never is all work or sorrow; and happy hours, helpful
pleasures, are mercifully given like wayside springs to pilgrims
trudging wearily along. Mr. Power showed Christie many such, and
silently provided her with better consolation than pity or advice.
"Deeds not words," was his motto; and he lived it out most
faithfully. "Books and work" he gave his new charge; and then
followed up that prescription with "healthful play" of a sort she
liked, and had longed for all her life. Sitting at his table
Christie saw the best and bravest men and women of our times; for
Mr. Power was a magnet that drew them from all parts of the world.
She saw and heard, admired and loved them; felt her soul kindle with
the desire to follow in their steps, share their great tasks, know
their difficulties and dangers, and in the end taste the immortal
satisfactions given to those who live and labor for their
fellow-men. In such society all other aims seemed poor and petty;
for they appeared to live in a nobler world than any she had known,
and she felt as if they belonged to another race; not men nor
angels, but a delightful mixture of the two; more as she imagined
the gods and heroes of old; not perfect, but wonderfully strong and
brave and good; each gifted with a separate virtue, and each bent on
a mission that should benefit mankind.
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