“Yet what pleaseth Him might not please me.”
“It would be strange if it did.”
“Why?” said Philippa.
“Because it is your nature to love sin, and it is His nature to love holiness. And what we love, we become. He that loveth sin must needs be a sinner.”
“I do not think I love sin,” rejoined Philippa, rather offended.
“That is because you cannot see yourself.”
Just what Guy of Ashridge had told her; but not more palatable now than it had been then.
“What is sin?” asked the Grey Lady.
Philippa was ready with a list—of sins which she felt certain she had not committed.
“Give me leave to add one,” said the eremitess. “Pride is sin; nay, it is the abominable sin which God hateth. And is there no pride in you, Lady de Sergeaux? You tell me you cannot forgive your own father. Now I know nothing of you, nor of him; but if you could see yourself as you stand in God’s sight—whatever it be that he hath done—you would know yourself to be as black a sinner as he. Where, then, is your superiority? You have as much need to be forgiven.”