of her speaking eyes and mute lips was more than most could meet unmoved. When reverses came and plans were thwarted, she silently turned from them. When sorrow was hers, and ties were broken by death, and more—by death in life, she suffered as only a great soul can, but gave no cry of pain that reached the public ear. When misunderstood, misrepresented, maligned, the great heart stifled the groan, and the world heard it not; but then it was that she looked, in mute appeal for sympathy, to those who understood, and, in return for what they gave, bestowed such wealth of affection that she who had offered her largest measure still felt herself a debtor.
At no time did she show these qualities that compel unreserved admiration so much as in the last years, when an accident had bound her to an invalid chair. The friend and business acquaintance gathered strength from her, and came again as one returns for warmth to the open fire when there is chill without. Those who were by her marveled at her boundless courage, at her great hope and faith, at her spirit of unceasing gratitude, at her large generosity that must share before she seemed to realize that she possessed—a generosity that gave of means, sympathy, herself—the generosity that forgave all and forgot.
The soul had had its conflict and won, but of this she did not speak.
If mental grasp, depth of insight, broadness of outlook, strength of will, definiteness of purpose, restful courage, largeness of soul, are qualities of greatness, then she was one of the great women of her time.
In terms that measure greatness, we must measure her capacity for friendship, and so, as one who has had priceless wealth, I would that I could have written of my friend.
