The next day, she went to Elsie’s room, with a variety of many-colored silks in her hand. The woman was sitting by herself, silent and sullen. She had some loose beads in her lap, and was counting them over one by one, dropping each with a click into the pile, and evidently wondering why it never grew less. She caught a glance at the silks in Catharine’s hand, stirred restlessly in her chair, and fell to counting her beads again. Catharine sat down by the window, spreading out her silks in a connection which would have disturbed any one who had an artist’s eye for color. Elsie watched her keenly, dropping her beads all the time; but Catharine could see that the heavy mournfulness of her eyes kindled into intelligence, and that she was growing restless. Still, the little temptress went on matching her colors bunglingly. All at once, the crazy woman started up, her hoard of beads fell to the floor, and rushed, helter-skelter, over the room. She did not heed them in the least, but set herself down on the carpet, at Catharine’s feet, and taking the silks from her hands, began to arrange them in such contrast, or harmony, as her fancy dictated. It was a study to watch this poor demented creature, as she pursued her work, lovingly as a child dresses her doll. She looked up more than once, and laughed pleasantly. Catharine smiled back, for she knew that in this she was resurrecting an almost dead faculty. By what link of intelligence the maniac and her young nurse became in accord, I cannot determine, but it was not long before Elsie learned to smile when she appeared, and was docile as a lamb in her company. Almost, it would seem, by a miracle, she brought the long-buried talents of former years into action. True, Elsie was erratic, and she would only exert herself when the caprice was on her, but Catharine had the good sense to leave her free, and thus won a world of instruction from her, giving and taking benefit. Perhaps this was the most tranquil period of Catharine’s life. It certainly was the most useful, and God has so ordained it that no human soul can devote its energies to the good of humanity without proportionate self-benefit. In truth, it is only through others that we are ever made happy. Selfishness has no power of radiation, and degenerates the soul it centres in. The great secret of human happiness lies in that benevolence which encompasses the greatest number of God’s creatures with benefits.