“Mrs. Willis,” said Dora, with a scornful little laugh, “I am not unhappy, and I am a mulatto. I just enjoy my life, and I don’t want to die before my time comes, either. There are lots of good things left on earth to be enjoyed even by mulattoes, and I want my share.”
“Yes, my dear; and I hope you may all live and take comfort in the proper joys of your lives. While we are all content to accept life, and enjoy it along the lines which God has laid down for us as individuals as well as a race, we shall be happy and get the best out of life. Now, let me close this talk by asking you to remember one maxim written of your race by a good man: ‘Happiness and social position are not to be gained by pushing.’ Let the world, by its need of us along certain lines, and our intrinsic fitness for these lines, push us into the niche which God has prepared for us. So shall our lives be beautified and our race raised in the civilization of the future as we grow away from all these prejudices which have been the instruments of our advancement according to the intention of an All-seeing Omnipotence, from the beginning. Never mind our poverty, ignorance, and the slights and injuries which we bear at the hands of a higher race. With the thought ever before us of what the Master suffered to raise all humanity to its present degree of prosperity and intelligence, let us cultivate, while we go about our daily tasks, no matter how inferior they may seem to us, beauty of the soul and mind, which being transmitted to our children by the law of heredity, shall improve the race by eliminating immorality from our midst and raising morality and virtue to their true place. Thirty-five years of liberty have made us a new people. The marks of servitude and oppression are dropping slowly from us; let us hasten the transformation of the body by the nobility of the soul.”
“For of the soul the body form doth take,
For soul is form and doth the body make,”
quoted Dora.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Willis with a smile, “that is the idea exactly, and well expressed. Now I hope that through the coming week you will think of what we have talked about this afternoon, for it is of the very first importance to all people, but particularly so to young folks.”
Sappho, who had been thoughtfully embroidering pansies on white linen, now leaned back in her chair for a moment and said: “Mrs. Willis, there is one thing which puzzles me—how are we to overcome the nature which is given us? I mean how can we eliminate passion from our lives, and emerge into the purity which marked the life of Christ? So many of us desire purity and think to have found it, but in a moment of passion, or under the pressure of circumstances which we cannot control, we commit some horrid sin, and the taint of it sticks and will not leave us, and we grow to loathe ourselves.”
“Passion, my dear Miss Clark, is a state in which the will lies dormant, and all other desires become subservient to one. Enthusiasm for any one object or duty may become a passion. I believe that in some degree passion may be beneficial, but we must guard ourselves against a sinful growth of any appetite. All work of whatever character, as I look at it, needs a certain amount of absorbing interest to become successful, and it is here that the Christian life gains its greatest glory in teaching us how to keep ourselves from abusing any of our human attributes. We are not held responsible for compulsory sin, only for the sin that is pleasant to our thoughts and palatable to our appetites. All desires and hopes with which we are endowed are good in the sight of God, only it is left for us to discover their right uses. Do I cover your ground?”
“Yes and no,” replied Sappho; “but perhaps at some future time you will be good enough to talk with me personally upon this subject.”
“Dear child, sit here by me. It is a blessing to look at you. Beauty like yours is inspiring. You seem to be troubled; what is it? If I can comfort or strengthen, it is all I ask.” She pressed the girl’s hand in hers and drew her into a secluded corner. For a moment the floodgates of suppressed feeling flew open in the girl’s heart, and she longed to lean her head on that motherly breast and unburden her sorrows there.
“Mrs. Willis, I am troubled greatly,” she said at length.
“I am so sorry; tell me, my love, what it is all about.”
Just as the barriers of Sappho’s reserve seemed about to be swept away, there followed, almost instantly, a wave of repulsion toward this woman and her effusiveness, so forced and insincere. Sappho was very impressionable, and yielded readily to the influence which fell like a cold shadow between them. She drew back as from an abyss suddenly beheld stretching before her.
“On second thoughts, I think I ought to correct my remarks. It is not really trouble, but more a desire to confirm me in my own ideas.”
“Well, if you feel you are right, dear girl, stand for the uplifting of the race and womanhood. Do not shrink from duty.”
“It was simply a
