"Yes," said that other voice, "there are undoubtedly some things that they ought to know; but then 'even Christ pleased not himself.'"
"But it is so absurd! She is evidently vexed because you have invited her own pastor to take tea with her—the most natural and reasonable thing in the world. She ought to want him to come. The idea of having trouble over such a trifle as that!"
"Yes; but, after all, are there not two sides to even that? How did you know but it would be extremely inconvenient for your new mother to see her pastor just at the time you set?"
"I never thought of such a thing. In our house it was always convenient to see people."
"Why not tell her that you didn't think of it, omitting the reference to the different conditions of your own home? Because, you know, you never like to have people suggest uncomplimentary comparisons to you; therefore, by the rule which you profess to have accepted, you must not hint them to others."
"But," said that other one, "it is an unnecessary humiliation for you to go to her and apologize, as though you had done something wrong. The idea! You should certainly have some regard to your position. Because you came here full of schemes for usefulness, eager to do her good, is no reason why you should tamely submit to such treatment as this—least of all, offer an apology for what you had no idea would be disagreeable; besides, you almost apologized, and how did she receive it?"
Then that other voice,—
"Remember the word that I said unto you—'The servant is not greater than his lord.'"
And straightway there surged over Louise Morgan's soul such a sense of "remembrance" of that other's patience, and meekness, and forgiveness, and humiliation, such a remembrance of his thirty years of sorrowful cross-bearing for her, that there surely was verified to her another of the promises: "He shall bring all things to your remembrance." Moreover, her eyes being opened by the searching Spirit, she saw who that counsellor was, with his suggestion of self-respect and wounded dignity and position—always at variance with that other one, always directly contradicting, always eagerly putting "self" between Christ and his work. The tears came down in showers; but they were shed in a lowly attitude, for this troubled young soul sank on her knees.
"O Christ," she said, "thou didst conquer him years ago. He desires to have me; but, thou mighty One, bid him leave me, for thou art pledged that thou wilt with the temptation provide a way of escape. And now, dear Christ, help me to show such a spirit of meekness and unfaltering cheerfulness of spirit before Lewis's mother that she shall be led, not to me, but to thyself."