with happiness," as Mrs. Harden said; but Margaret soon slipped away from her friends and admirers. Philip followed, and found her sitting near the shaft, in the twilight region, where the darkness of the mine and the glad light of day were struggling for the upper hand.
"Are you not satisfied?" he asked, quick to see her trouble.
"No, and it hurts me to have you all praise it when I know how much better I could have made it. It seems as if you expected nothing more of me, and were surprised that I have done even as well as this."
"Dear friend, believe me, that feeling is one that you will always have, no matter at what point you may arrive in your art. You have in your own mind the spirit of the conception, and, do what you will, you can only show us its reflection. When self-satisfaction comes, progress stops. May you never know it."
"It makes me ashamed to have them praise me," Margaret repeated. And Philip laughed, and told her that this was as it should be.
