It was
so crude, so unformed in her mind that it can hardly be set
down. To justify one's own existence. That was all that
life held or meant. But that included all the lives that
touched on yours. It had nothing to do with success, as she
had counted success heretofore. It was service, really. It
was living as--well, as Molly Brandeis had lived, helpfully,
self-effacingly, magnificently. Fanny gave up trying to
form the thing that was growing in her mind. Perhaps, after
all, it was too soon to expect a complete understanding of
that which had worked this change in her from that afternoon
in Fenger's library.
After the first few days she found less and less difficulty
in climbing. Her astonished heart and lungs ceased to
object so strenuously to the unaccustomed work. The Cabin
Rock trail, for example, whose summit found her panting and
exhausted at first, now seemed a mere stroll. She grew more
daring and ambitious. One day she climbed the Long's Peak
trail to timberline, and had tea at Timberline Cabin with
Albert Edward Cobbins.
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