You sadden me sorely. As long as I live I shall mourn the great pleasure chance chose not to give. 

 Maurice: 

 Take courage, mon ami. Our fair friend, Miss Lee, Fills her time quite as full of sweet works as the bee; Like the bee, too, she drives out the drones from her hive. You must toil in her cause, in her favor to thrive. 

 Roger: 

 She need but command me. To wait upon beauty And goodness combined makes a pleasure of duty. 

 Maurice: 

 Who serves Mabel Lee serves all Righteousness too. Pray, then, that she gives you some labor to do. The cure for the pessimist lies in good deeds. Who toils for another forgets his own needs, And mischief and misery never attend On the man who is occupied fully. 

 Ruth: 

 Our friend Has the town on her shoulders. Whatever may be The cause that is needy, we look to Miss Lee. Have you gold? She will make you disgorge it ere long; Are you poor? Well, perchance you can dance—sing a song— Make a speech—tell a story, or plan a charade. Whatever you have, gold or wits, sir, must aid In her numerous charities. 

Our friend

 Mabel: 

 Riches and brain Are but loans from the Master. He meant them, 'tis plain, To be used in His service; and people are kind, When once you can set them to thinking. I find It is lack of perception, not lack of good heart Which makes the world selfish in seeming. My part Is to call the attention of Plenty to need, And to bid Pleasure pause for a moment and heed The woes and the burdens of Labor. 

Riches and brain

 Roger: 

 One plea From the rosy and eloquent lips of Miss Lee Would make Avarice pour out his coffers of gold At her feet, I should fancy; would soften the cold, Selfish heart of the world to compassionate sighs, And bring tears of pity to vain Pleasure's eyes. 

One plea

 As the sunset a color on lily leaves throws, The words and the glances of Roger Montrose O'er the listener's cheeks sent a pink tinted wave; While Maurice seemed disturbed, and his sister grew grave. The false chink of flattery's 

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