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.