“You must have the temptation, if you are to have the credit of overcoming it.”

“Is there not a wonderful petition left for us by One who knows all things?  ‘Lead us not into temptation.’”

“I do not think this is a parallel case.  God’s way with His people, ever since Eve was denied the fruit in Eden, has been to prove them by temptation.  His promise that there shall, with the temptation, be a way of escape, is what we need to claim.”

“My way of escape will be to go back to Oaklands, where an occasional tea party will be the most dangerous allurement to vanity in my way.”

“But you will not always remain there.  Mr. Winthrop will not be so remiss in his duty as your guardian as to bury you there.  Marriage, and a judicious settlement in life, are among the probabilities of your near future.”

My cheeks crimsoned; for marriage was one of the tabooed subjects of conversation at Madame Buhlman’s.  Only in the solitude of our own rooms did we dare to converse on such a topic.  But no doubt we wove our romances as industriously, and dreamed our dreams of the beautiful, impossible future stretching beyond our dim horizons, as eagerly as if we had been commanded to spend a certain portion of each day in its contemplation.

Mrs. Flaxman noticed my embarrassment, and, after a few moments said:—­“Perhaps the fairy prince has already claimed his own.”

I laughed lightly, but still felt ill at ease as I said:  “I have never met him, and begin to doubt if he has an existence.”

“He is sure to come, soon or late; probably too soon to please me.  I shall miss you sadly when you go away from us.”

I knelt beside her chair, a lump gathering in my throat, and my slow coming tears ready to drop.

“I do not know why you should miss me, but it makes me so glad to hear you say so.  I have no one to really love me in the wide, wide world, that is, whose love I can claim as a right, and sometimes the thought makes me desolate.”

She sat for awhile silently stroking my hair.

“I do not think yours will be a desolate, or lonely life, Medoline.  It is only the selfish who are punished in that way.  The blessing of those about the perish will overtake you, making the shadowy places in your life bright.”

“But there are no perishing ones conveniently near for me to save.  I am of little more use in the world than a humming bird.”

“Already some of the Mill Road folk have been comforted by you.  You remember it is recorded of the Mary of Bethany; ’She hath done what she could.’  For that act of gratitude to the Master, her memory will be cherished long after the sun is cold.  We do not know if somewhere all our minutest acts of unselfishness are not recorded, to be met with one day with glad surprise on our part.”

“I would rather be so remembered,” I said with eager longing, “than to be a Cleopatra or Helen of Troy.”