Bertha had taken to this philosophy as naturally as she had to breathing. But her heart had lately become very sore with the fear that, as the workers were to be “the pure in heart” who see good and God, she, for cause known to herself, might not be considered “pure in heart,” and so might be rejected as not fitted to help even in the humblest way, in the splendid work here opening up. The bitterness of this dread had filled her mind for weeks,—yes, from the first. And the bitterness was none the less bitter from the fact that the very _circumstance_ in her life which she felt would be taken as ground for her rejection from this work for the new age, was in her good judgment the circumstance which had educated her to well do one line of work, that ought to be a collateral to the rest of it, as carried on here. So one day she came suddenly to see Miss Daksha, appearing at the sunlighted stretch of rooms, the abutting tower-end of which was connected with Reginald’s suite. She glanced furtively at him, halting as she knocked, and Ethel, understanding all, said at once: “Bertha, I call him—not bad, but bewildered; not sick, but being healed; not lost, _but in process of finding himself_. His helplessness now exists because Mother Wisdom Divine has _arrested_ him, by putting to sleep certain of his faculties, in order to the better releasement of his higher nature. As we understand this matter, he is mentally in communion now with saintly spirits. And if your angel and mine can but wisely conspire with angels higher yet, he will be safely carried through this crisis; and in a few years he will have forgotten all of the evil things of the past, and will be ready for a new life. And then all will go well, if but only people will then not remember against him his follies and transgressions. “For Bertha,” Ethel said, curiously looking into the steadfast German eyes, as if showing her a sight of “those invisible things of God, which are clearly seen, being understood by things which are made.” “Bertha, Reginald ought not to die yet physically. Dying as he now is would but necessitate that at his next incarnation some other woman would be tortured to give birth to perhaps an unchanged _distracted_ being, with the same self-destructive tendencies as those evinced the day when, years ago, he was beating the rosebush to pieces. “All that unfortunate waste of mother-pain can be prevented; for we here will now take up for him, and others, the work of being spiritual mothers, who will very simply, in this home, supplement the work of the other poor mothers who have had to give birth to ill-conditioned children, without being properly accoutred, with the time, money, and education requisite to enable them to teach these children the ways of life.