Patient replied in a measured and constrained voice, "'He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me.'"[[10]]
"Yes, I know; but I am so very anxious not to be wanting in respect to her—not to put any obstacles in her way."
"The more obstacles in her way the better, Madam; for it is the broad road that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat."[[11]]
Celia sighed heavily, but made no answer.
"Ah, poor blind soul!" continued Patient. "If only we would look more at all men and women in one light, and measure them by one test—friends of Christ, or enemies of Christ—I think we would behave different from that we do."
Patient stitched away without saying more, and Celia sat looking thoughtfully out of the open window. From some cause unknown to herself, there suddenly rose before her a vision of the great laurel at Ashcliffe, and the stranger blessing her in the name of the Virgin. She exclaimed, "Patient!" in a tone which would have startled any one less unimpressionable than the placid woman who sat opposite her.
"Madam!" replied Patient, without any change of manner.
Celia told her the circumstance of which she was thinking, and added, "Can you guess who it was, Patient?"
"What manner of man was he, Madam?"
Celia closed her eyes and tried to recall him.