"It's not a very healthy fancy, dear," said Mrs. White; "but we'll soon drive it away. Life is not a Greek drama if that's what a Greek drama is like. No human being stands alone in that way. There is no relentless Fate. We are all bound together by something better than that. I am sure I don't feel like a subsidiary character to you"--and she laughed merrily--"but as your dear friend who loves you very much." "Oh, I wish I could believe all that you do, Mrs. White. I am altogether lost in a maze of contrary ideas. I don't seem to know what is right or wrong now in the least--since my illness. I am getting so puzzled about everything--" a little hysterical half-sob, half-laugh divided her sentences. "I don't think my head will ever get right again--when I try to think my brain gets quite sick and dizzy, and I don't know where I am." "Poor little girl! but you must not think at all, at present; you've got to please your friends by being quiet and allowing them to get you well again." "I wish I was good and unselfish like you, dear Mrs. White." "Nonsense, child--I am not more unselfish than other people. What greater pleasure is there than to make others happy? It's not so unselfish after all to do what is the pleasantest to oneself." "Ah! that is it--I am beginning to feel it. There is only one thing about which I am quite certain." "And that is?" "That to help others, that to love, is the only happy thing on earth. It is so nice to love. Sometimes when I am altogether miserable I can make myself happy by thinking of all the dear friends that I love, and planning little things I can do for them.--Ah, my dear friends! I would die to help them--Love! It is the only thing I do understand. I have grown so weak that I cannot realize now all I once thought and knew, and believe in it as I did--but I do love." "And what more is wanted? I do not believe that any human being is altogether miserable as long as he can love. Love, dear, is the key of all happiness. Religion is love. Scientific people may talk of their discoveries--may talk about our having no wills, about our being machines--excuse me, dear, for I am not clever in these things--but can they explain this love? Not a bit of it. No machinery, no evolution, no fortuitous concourse of atoms--you see I know some of the learned terms--can make love, I know!" The simple woman spoke with conviction. This was her favourite, indeed, her only argument against materialism. She would listen to no other arguments for or against. This one, in her opinion, entirely crushed vain philosophy, so there was no necessity to look further into the question. She felt rather proud of her logic and eloquence, so looked through the corners of her eyes at Mary, to see what effect her speech had produced. She was disappointed to discover that it had not impressed the girl much.