You must not
be wise and forbearing. There, dear, I won't say more!"
Howard took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you," he said, "thank
you a hundred times for speaking so. It is perfectly true, every
word of it. It is curious that to-day I have seen myself three
times mirrored in other minds. I don't like what I see--I am not
complacent--I am not flattered. But I don't know what to do! I feel
like a patient with a hopeless disease, who has been listening to a
perfectly kind and wise physician. But what can I do? It is just
the vital impulse which is lacking. I will be frank too; it is
quite true that I live in the surface of things. I am so much
interested in books, ideas, thoughts, I am fascinated by the study
of human temperament; people delight me, excite me, amuse me; but
nothing ever comes inside. I don't excuse myself, but I say: 'It is
He that hath made us and not we ourselves.' I am just so, as you
have described, and I feel what a hollow-hearted sort of person I
am. Yet I go on amusing myself with friendships and interests. I
have never suffered, and I have never loved. Well, I would like to
change all that, but can I?"
"Ah, dear Howard," said his aunt, "that is the everlasting
question. It is like you to take this all so sweetly and to speak
so openly. But further than this no one can help you. You are like
the young man whom Jesus loved who had great possessions. You do
not know how much! I will not tell you to follow Him; and your
possessions are not those which can be given away.
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