"And have you no regrets," I inquired, "in overthrowing this fair
system of our new life, which has been planned so deeply, and is now
beginning to flourish so hopefully around us? How beautiful it is,
and, so far as we can yet see, how practicable! The ages have waited
for us, and here we are, the very first that have essayed to carry on
our mortal existence in love and mutual help! Hollingsworth, I would
be loath to take the ruin of this enterprise upon my conscience."
"Then let it rest wholly upon mine!" he answered, knitting his black
brows. "I see through the system. It is full of defects,--
irremediable and damning ones!--from first to last, there is
nothing else! I grasp it in my hand, and find no substance whatever.
There is not human nature in it."
"Why are you so secret in your operations?" I asked. "God forbid
that I should accuse you of intentional wrong; but the besetting sin
of a philanthropist, it appears to me, is apt to be a moral obliquity.
His sense of honor ceases to be the sense of other honorable men.
At some point of his course--I know not exactly when or where--he is
tempted to palter with the right, and can scarcely forbear persuading
himself that the importance of his public ends renders it allowable
to throw aside his private conscience. Oh, my dear friend, beware
this error! If you meditate the overthrow of this establishment,
call together our companions, state your design, support it with all
your eloquence, but allow them an opportunity of defending themselves.
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