A faint flush passed over Mr. Bowen's face, but he made
no reply. I was much better pleased than if he had exclaimed against his
own poor abilities, as some would have done, or rhapsodized over his
indebtedness to me. I knew from the expression of Mr. Winthrop's face
that he was pleased with him, and on our way home, he said: "You are like
a magnet, Medoline. You draw the best types of humanity to you as the
lodestone does the steel."
"You like Mr. Bowen, then?"
"I do not know him well enough yet for that; but he has genius. Da Vinci
would have taken him for a model for the beloved disciple if he had lived
in his day. I never saw a more spiritual face in any human being."
"He is like the disciple whom Jesus loved in one thing--he loves the
Christ best of all."
"Was not that a wonderful meeting, Mr. Winthrop?" Mrs. Flaxman asked,
after we had seated ourselves cosily by the bright fire in the
drawing-room.
"I do not profess to be a judge in such matters."
"I think a heathen would have felt some before unknown spiritual
influence there to-night, if he had understood our language," I
exclaimed.
"Heathen and Christian alike are not so susceptible to spiritual
influences as you, Medoline; so in harmony with the unseen and unknowable
as you are getting to be."
"Religion cannot be classed with the unknowable. God only leaves us in
uncertainty when we wilfully close our eyes to his teachings."
"You place no restrictions, then, on the benevolence of your Creator.
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