“Next, mingled inextricably with my resolve about the money, came the perception that my fellow-beings, my brothers and sisters of the same father, must be, next to the father himself, the very atmosphere of life, and that perfect misery must be to care only for one’s self. With that there woke in me such a love and pity for my people, my own race, my human beings, my brothers and sisters, whoever could hear the word of the father of men, that I felt the only thing worth giving the energy of a life to, was the work that Christ gave himself to—the delivery of men out of their lonely and mean devotion to themselves, into the glorious liberty of the sons of God, whose joy and rejoicing is the rest of the family.

“Then I saw that here the claim upon my honesty, and the highest calling of man met. I saw that were I as free to do with my grandfather’s money as it was possible for man to be, I could in no other way use it altogether worthily than in aiding to give outcome, shape and operation to the sonship and brotherhood in me. I have not yet found how best to use it all, and I will do nothing in haste, which is the very opposite of divine, and sure to lead astray. But I keep thinking in order to find out, and it will continue to be revealed to me. God who has laid the burden on me will enable me to bear it until he shows me how to unpack and disperse it.

“Therefore, I spent a portion in further study, and especially the study of medicine. I could not work miracles; I had not the faith necessary to that, if such is now to be had, but God might be pleased I should heal a little by the doctor’s art. So doing I should do yet better, and learn how, to spend the money upon humanity itself, repaying to the race what had been wrongfully taken from its individuals to whom it was impossible to restore it, and should while so doing at the same time fill up what was left behind for me of the labours of the Master.

“That is my story. I now try to work steadily, without haste, and have this very day gotten a new idea that may have some true possibilities in it.”

“Will you tell me what it is?” said Hester.

“I don’t like talking about things before they are begun,” answered Christopher.

“I know what I would do if I had money!” said Hester.

“You have given me the right to ask what—though perhaps not the right to an answer.”

“I would have a house of refuge to which anyone might run for shelter or rest or warmth or food or medicine or whatever he needed. It should have no society or subscription or committee, but would be my own to use as God enabled me. It should be a refuge for the needy, those out of work, to the child with a cut finger. I would not take in drunkards or ruined speculators—at least not before they were very miserable indeed. The suffering of such is the only desirable consequence of their doing, and to save them from it would be to take from them their last chance.”