draughts of love than any which they had to offer; and I said to myself
that if I were to die, not one of them would remember me for more than
a week. This was not selfishness, for I longed to prove my devotion as
well as to receive that of another. How this ideal haunted me! It
made me restless and anxious at the sight of every new face, wondering
whether at last I had found that for which I searched as if for the
kingdom of heaven.

It is superfluous to say that a friend of the kind I wanted never
appeared, and disappointment after disappointment at last produced in
me a cynicism which repelled people from me, and brought upon me a good
deal of suffering. I tried men by my standard, and if they did not
come up to it I rejected them; thus I prodigally wasted a good deal of
the affection which the world would have given me. Only when I got
much older did I discern the duty of accepting life as God has made it,
and thankfully receiving any scrap of love offered to me, however
imperfect it might be.

I don't know any mistake which I have made which has cost me more than
this; but at the same time I must record that it was a mistake for
which, considering everything, I cannot much blame myself. I hope it
is amended now. Now when it is getting late I recognise a higher
obligation, brought home to me by a closer study of the New Testament.
Sympathy or no sympathy, a man's love should no more fail towards his
fellows than that love which spent itself on disciples who altogether
misunderstood it, like the rain which falls on just and unjust alike.



CHAPTER III--WATER LANE