Such possibilities, I confess, give
me great awe; for I have more sense than most, of the tragic
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.
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