“Have I not done my work well?” she questioned, beginning to be afraid.
“Have you given your best?” they asked.
A flush of shame covered her face. “No; the world did not want it.”
They were silent, and there was that in their eyes which made her more and more ashamed.
“I needed bread,” she said, anxious to make excuse.
“Is bread all that is worth striving for, that you paid for it so high a price?” they asked.
She was silent.
“Did you come to please or help the people of this world?” they asked.
“You told me long ago that I came to help,” she answered, “but they made it very hard. When I wrote that which burned within my soul they cared not to hear it, but wanted something that entertained and diverted them from what they call the cares of life; and I—well, I was often hungry—so I gave them what they wanted.”
“And did they reward you?”