s, than what he
had to become: the weakest may be sent to give the strongest saving
help; even the foolish may mediate between the wise and the wiser; and
Godfrey presented Mary to men greater than himself, whom in a short
time she would understand even better than he. Book after book he lent
her--now and then gave her one of the best--introducing her, with no
special intention, to much in the way of religion that was good in the
way of literature as well. Only where he delighted mainly in the
literature, she delighted more in the religion. Some of my readers will
be able to imagine what it must have been to a capable, clear-thinking,
warm-hearted, loving soul like Mary, hitherto in absolute ignorance of
any better religious poetry than the chapel hymn-book afforded her, to
make acquaintance with George Herbert, with Henry Vaughan, with Giles
Fletcher, with Richard Crashaw, with old Mason, not to mention Milton,
and afterward our own Father Newman and Father Faber.

But it was by no means chiefly upon such that Godfrey led the talk on
the Sunday afternoons. A lover of all truly imaginative literature, his
knowledge of it was large, nor confined to that of his own country,
although that alone was at present available for either of his pupils.
His seclusion from what is called the world had brought him into larger
and closer contact with what is really the world. The breakers upon
reef and shore may be the ocean to some, but he who would know the
ocean indeed must leave them afar, sinking into silence, and sail into
wider and lonelier spaces. Through Godfrey, Mary came to know of a land
never promised, yet open--a land of whose nature even she had never
dreamed--a land of the spirit, flowing with milk and honey--a land of
which the fashionable world knows little more than the dwellers in the
back slums, although it imagines it lying, with the kingdoms of the
earth, at its feet.

As regards her feeling toward her new friend, this opener of unseen
doors, the greatness of her obligation to him wrought against
presumption and any possible folly. Besides, Mary was one who possessed
power over her own spirit--rare gift, given to none but those who do
something toward the taking of it. She was able in no small measure to
order her own thoughts. Without any theory of self-rule, she yet ruled
her Self. She was not one to slip about in the saddle, or let go the
reins for a kick and a plunge or two. There was the thing that should