agic
depths that may open suddenly in the life. Yet, believing in
God, anguish cannot be despair, nor guilt perdition. I feel
sure that I have never wilfully chosen, and that my life has
been docile to such truth as was shown it. In an environment
like mine, what may have seemed too lofty or ambitious in
my character was absolutely needed to keep the heart from
breaking and enthusiasm from extinction.'

Such Egoism as this, though lacking the angel grace of
unconsciousness, has a stoical grandeur that commands respect. Indeed,
in all that Margaret spoke, wrote, or did, no cynic could detect the
taint of meanness. Her elation came not from opium fumes of vanity,
inhaled in close chambers of conceit, but from the stimulus of
sunshine, fresh breezes, and swift movement upon the winged steed of
poesy. Her existence was bright with romantic interest to herself.
There was an amplitude and elevation in her aim, which were worthy, as
she felt, of human honor and of heavenly aid; and she was buoyed up
by a courageous good-will, amidst all evils, that she knew would have
been recognized as heroic in the chivalric times, when "every morning
brought a noble chance." Neither was her self-regard of an engrossing
temper. On the contrary, the sense of personal dignity taught her
the worth of the lowliest human being, and her intense desire for
harmonious conditions quickened a boundless compassion for the
squalid, downcast, and drudging multitude. She aspired to live in
majestic fulness of benignant and joyful activity, leaving a track of
light with every footstep; and, like the radiant Iduna, bearing to
man the golden apples of immortality, she would have made each meeting
with her fellows rich with some boon that should never fade, but
brighten in bloom forever.

This characteristic self-esteem determined the quality of Margaret's
influence, which was singularly penetrating, and most beneficent where
most deeply and continuously felt. Chance acquaintance with her, like
a breath from the tropics, might have prematurely burst the buds of
feeling in sensitive hearts, leaving after blight and barrenness.
Natures, small in compass and of fragile substance, might have been
distorted and shattered by attempts to mould themselves on her grand
model. And in her seeming unchartered impulses,--whose latent law was
honorable integrity,--eccentric spirits might have found encouragement
for capricious license. Her mo