"No; oh! no," She answered quickly. "I am only sad That it should be the captain of your host. All creatures of the brain are the result Of many motives and of many powers. All life is such, indeed. The power that leads-- The motive dominant--this stamps the work With its own likeness. Throughout all the world Are careful souls, with careful consciences, That pierce themselves with questionings and fears Because that, with the motives which are good, And which alone they seek, a hundred come They do not seek, and aye sophisticate Their finest action. They are wrong in this: All motives bowing to one leadership, And aiding its emprise, are one with it-- The same in trend, the same in terminus. All the low motives that obey the law, And aid the work, of one above them all, Do holy service, and fulfil the end For which they were designed. The love of praise Is not the lowest motive which can move The human soul. Nay, it may do good work As a subordinate, and leave no soil On whitest fabric, at whose selvage shines The Master's broidered signature. Although You write for fame, think not you will escape The press of other motives. You love me; You love your child; you love your pleasant home; You love the memory of one long dead. These, joined with all those qualities of heart Which make you dear to me, will throng around The leader you appoint, and come and go Under his banner; and the work of God Will thrive through these, the while your own goes on God will not be defrauded, nor yet man; And you, who like the Pharisees make prayer At corners of the streets, for praise of men, Will have reward you seek." "Ay, verily!" Responded I with laughter. "Verily! Though not a saint, I'll do a saintly work For my own profit, and in spite of all The selfishness that moves me. Better, this, Than I suspected. My sweet casuist-- My gentle, learned, lovely casuist-- I thank you; and I'll pay you more than thanks. I'll promise that when these fine motives come, And volunteer their service, they shall find Welcome and entertainment, and a place Within the rank and file, with privilege Of quick promotion, so they show themselves Motives of mettle." This the type of talk That passed between us. I was not a fool To count her wisdom worthless; nor a God, To work regeneration in myself. That something which I longed for, to fill up The measure of my good, was human praise; Yet I could see that she was wholly right, And that she held within herself resource Of satisfaction better than my own. But I was quite content--content to know I trod the average altitude of those Within the paths of art, and had no aims To be misconstrued or misunderstood By Pride and Selfishness--that these, in truth, Expected of me what I had to give.