“It is sad, indeed, because ’t is true.”
“Notice this little vine-clad cottage, which we are approaching,” said Miss Bernard.
“It’s a lovely spot; I hope the people are adapted to it.”
“They are not, or, rather, are not suited to their conditions. It is occupied by two maiden ladies, who do not know how to live and get the most out of life, and each other. They live too close, too enwrapped within themselves. They should have separate interests, or occupations; but instead of that, they live in each other’s atmosphere every day, go together and return together, see the same people at the same time, when their interviews should be varied, and each at times alone. Thus their magnetisms have become so interblended, that one has nothing to give the other. Now, Miss Wyman, after such mutual exhaustion, what can they have for each other?”
“Nothing but exhaustion; and how many live in the same way, plodding through life, growing old before their time, losing power, or magnetism, which is power, every day. Such persons close their eyes to any light one might throw upon their path, and I see no way, but for all such to remain where they are. It is lamentably true that comparatively few of the inhabitants of earth are growing people; most of them are content with a slow, dull routine of daily life. I’d rather see persons full of zeal and purpose, even though their impulsive nature might lead them to commit many mistakes, rather than one whose life seems purposeless.”
“So had I. Motion is life; and in that motion we do many things which we afterwards regret, yet find them to have been the legitimate results of life; so I suppose we should not regret anything.”
“Nothing which has occurred outside or independent of our will or design.”
“It is hard to tell where our own will commences to act; is it not, Miss Bernard?”
“I sometimes question whether we can; yet in order for our lives to be individualized there must be some point where we lay aside our personal will, disengage it, as it were, from the causes or outside forces, which seem to be ever propelling us.”
“What do you consider the most quiescent state of the soul?”
“That state in which the mind clearly perceives it could not have afforded to have dispensed with one personal experience, least of all, with one sorrow which formed a part of that experience.”