How long she might have searched we cannot say, for just as her thoughts were most abstracted, Hugh came and sat down by her side, before she knew that any one had entered.

“Why, Hugh!” was her exclamation of surprise.

“You are not at home, I see.”

He brought her back with those words.

“Really, I was away; but how glad I am to see you,” and her glowing features endorsed the truth of her assertion.

“How far had you wandered?” he asked, his face full of glowing sympathy; “far enough to gather a new impetus for the soul?”

“I fear not.  I was questioning my motives, and looking for my shortcomings.”

“I fear I should have been absent much longer on such an errand,” he said, and then dropping their badinage they resumed their true earnest relation to each other.

“Tell me, Hugh, you who have so often illumined my dark states, if all this contest is of any avail; if it is any use to put forth our words and have their meaning misinterpreted?”

“I question,” she continued, “if we should project our thought until mankind is impelled by the actual need of something new, to seek it.”

“Our thoughts and soul exchanges are not like the merchant’s wares, to be held up for a bid.  The soul is too grand and spontaneous a creation to be measured.  Yes, we must often speak our deepest thoughts, even though they are cast away as nought, and trampled upon.  There would be little richness or worth without this free offering, this giving of self for truth’s sake, even though we know that we and our words may be spurned.  You are cloudy to-day, my friend; you have been too long alone, and are consumed by your own thoughts.”

“I am mentally exhausted, Hugh.  I needed you to-day, for my soul has lost all vision.  I know by my own experience, that we must speak when we are full, no matter who misapprehends or turns upon us.  It is this fear that keeps too many from great and noble utterances.  We forget that truth can clear itself, and that principles are not dependent upon persons.  You have given me myself, as you ever do, when the mist of doubt hangs over me.”

“Yes, we must give when there is no approving smile, no look of recognition; give when our giving makes us beggars, alone and friendless in the chill air of neglect.”

“This is but your own life.  I have but put it into words for you to-night.”

“O, Hugh, you are ever on the mount, looking with calm, steady gaze over the dark mists.  Your head rests in eternal sunshine, like the towering hill whose top is mantled with the golden light, even though its base is covered with fog.  Shall we ever see the day when these inner, pivotal truths will be accepted?”

“We shall behold it in the lives of thousands.  It matters not when, or where.  Our part is to labor, to plant the seed, though it may not be our hands that garner the harvest.”

“True.  I was selfish and looking for grain.”