I've seen her again many times since then, but not with quite the same impression." "She is alive still ?" "Oh, yes! I often fancy she will never die!" There was a silence of some minutes.

Morgana rose, and crossing over to the old well, studied the crimson passion-flowers which twined about it, with almost loving scrutiny.
"How beautiful they are!" she said--"And they seem to serve no purpose save that of simple beauty!" "That is enough for many of God's creatures"-- said Aloysius--"To give joy and re-create joy is the mission of perfection." She looked at him wistfully.
"Alas, poor me!" she sighed--"I can neither give joy nor create it!" "Not even with all your wealth ?" "Not even with all my wealth!" she echoed.

"Surely you--a priest--know what a delusion wealth really is so far as happiness goes ?--mere happiness?
course you can buy everything with it--and there's the trouble! When everything is bought there's nothing left! And if you try to help the poor they resent it--they think you are doing it because you are afraid of them! Perhaps the worst of all things to do is to help artists--artists of every kind!--for THEY say you want to advertise yourself as a 'generous patron'! Oh, I've tried it all and it's no use.

I was just crazy to help all the scientists,--once!--but they argued and quarrelled so much as to which 'society' deserved most money that I dropped the whole offer, and started 'scientising' myself.
There is one man I tried to lift out of his brain-bog,--but he would have none of me, and he is still in his bog!" "Oh! There is one man!" said Aloysius, with a smile.
"Yes, good father!" And Morgana left the passion-flowers and moved slowly back to her seat on the stone-bench--"There is one man! He was my third and last experience of happiness.

When I first met him, my whole heart gave itself in one big pulsation--but like a wave of the sea, the pulsation recoiled, and never again beat on the grim rock of human egoism!" She laughed gaily, and a delicate colour flushed her face.