“Let be,” they said; “we can do nothing.” Men always do talk like that in face of such difficulties, but, fortunately, their arguments never yet held back a woman who had set her heart on a great work of love. Sister Agnes gradually evolved an idea of a great hospital richly endowed and well officered, ruled by a competent governing body, and animated throughout by one idea—_to heal by the shortest and most effectual methods, the sufferers who sought its portals_; to take as the guiding principle of all the work done there, _not_ possibly better methods for better patients, but the best existing methods for the present occupants of its beds. The motto of the place to be, “Honour all men.” A revolution indeed! A work of such magnitude that its inception seemed Quixotic! Things, however, had come to this pass that she could no longer retain her position at St. Bernard’s; and feeling that she could do nothing there to elaborate her scheme, she left the hospital, and took time to consider what her next step should be. She did not leave a bit too soon; things had been rather unpleasant of late. There were several patients who, at a hint from her, had taken themselves off from St. Bernard’s with all their limbs about them, who would have gone out minus one or other of these useful appendages had they remained much longer, and the loss of these valuable opportunities had very properly been charged to Sister Agnes’s account. She was accused of not showing sufficient interest in the welfare of the place. CHAPTER XXXI. THE GOSPEL OF WORK. God says, “Sweat For foreheads;” men say, “Crowns:” and so we are crowned; Ay, gashed by some tormenting circle of steel, Which snaps with a secret spring. _Elizabeth B. Browning._ If to the city sped—what waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share; To see ten thousand baneful arts combined, To pamper luxury and thin mankind. _Goldsmith_ (“_Deserted Village_”).