saint, without sin? None but great saints be thus, as I have been
taught."

"Not the greatest of saints, truly. There is no man alive that sinneth
not. What is sin?"

"Breaking the commandments, I reckon."

"Ay, and in especial that first and greatest--`Thou shalt love the Lord
thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy mind, and with all thy
soul, and with all thy strength.' Daughter, hast thou so loved Him--so
that neither ease nor pleasure, neither fame nor life, neither earth nor
self, came between your love and Him, was set above Him, and served
afore Him? Speak truly, like the true woman you are. I wait your
answer."

It was several moments before the answer came.

"Father, is that sin?"

"My daughter, it is the sin of sins: the sin whence all other sins
flow--this estrangement of the heart from God. For if we truly loved
God, and perfectly, should we commit sin?--could we so do? Could we
desire to worship any other than Him, or to set anything before Him?--
could we bear to profane His name, to neglect His commands, to go
contrary to His will? Should we then bear ill-will to other men who
love Him, and whom He loveth? Should we speak falsely in His ears who
is the Truth? Should we suffer pride to defile our souls, knowing that
He dwelleth with the lowly in heart? Answer me, Lady Marguerite."

"Father, you are sore hard. Think you God, that is up in Heaven, taketh
note of a white lie or twain, or a few cross words by nows and thens?
not to name a mere wish that passeth athwart man's heart and is gone?"

"God taketh note of sin, daughter. And sin is _sin_--it is rebellion
against the King of Heaven. What think you your son would say to a
captain of his, which pleaded that he did but surrender one little
postern gate to the enemy, and that there were four other strong portals
that led into the town, all whereof he had well defended?"

"Why, the enemy might enter as well through the postern as any other.
To be in, is to be in, no matter how he find entrance."

"Truth. And the lightest desire can be sin, as well as the wickedest
deed. Verily, if the desire never arose, the deed should be ill-set to
follow."

"Then God is punishing me?" she said, wistfully.

"God is looking for you," was the quiet answer. "The sheep hath gone
astray over moor and morass, and the night is dark and cold, and it
bleateth piteously: and the Shepherd is come out of the warm fold, and
is tracking it on th