That _has_ in it an element of the
purely creative, and then is man likest God. But simply to do
what we ought, is an altogether higher, diviner, more potent,
more creative thing, than to write the grandest poem, paint the
most beautiful picture, carve the mightiest statue, build the
most worshiping temple, dream out the most enchanting commotion
of melody and harmony. If Godfrey could have seen the soul of the
maiden into whose face his discourtesy called the hot blood, he
would have beheld there simply what God made the earth for; as it
was, he saw a shop-girl, to whom in happier circumstances he had
shown kindness, in whom he was now no longer interested. But the
sight of his troubled face called up all the mother in her; a
rush of tenderness, born of gratitude, flooded her heart. He was
sad, and she could do nothing to comfort him! He had been royally
good to her, and no return was in her power. She could not even
let him know how she had profited by his gifts! She could come
near him with no ministration! The bond between them was an
eternal one, yet were they separated by a gulf of unrelation. Not
a mountain-range, but a stayless nothingness parted them. She
built many a castle, with walls of gratitude and floors of
service to entertain Godfrey Wardour; but they stood on no
foundation of imagined possibility.
CHAPTER XX.
THE WEDDING-DRESS.
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