"Don't be silly Gwen."
"I love her much more than you do. You are evidently satisfied to leave matters alone without trying to remedy them; and as both father and Uncle Joe are dead there is no-one whose opinion I should care to take except the Bishop's."
Sybil rose from her kneeling posture and rubbed the earth off her gloves.
"I wish you would be more sensible," she said, "and see things in their right proportion. As for me I tell you that I envy Rachel."
"Envy her!"
"Yes, because she follows out our Lord's command so wonderfully. She denies herself daily, takes up her cross, and follows Him."
"Yes," said Gwen slowly. "She is the one person I know who makes me feel ashamed of myself."
"And it seems to me," said Sybil, making her way towards the house, "that instead of commiserating her on her hardships, and pointing out to her, as you do, her husband's imperfections, we ought to encourage her. She has to live the life, why should we make it more difficult for her. Why try and rob her of the 'Well done' that she will hear by-and-bye."
"That may be all true; but it does not mean that we are to stand still and see her die. I shall certainly write to the Bishop."
The Bishop smiled as he read the letter that lay on his hall table next morning. He knew Gwen, and had no doubt whatever that in her love for her sister she had exaggerated matters. He sent her a kind answer reminding her that no life was perfect. There was almost always some drawback or other.