“‘Your work is done,’ she said; and there was sadness in her voice, and pity in her eyes.
“‘Well done?’ I questioned, though with a sinking of the heart, for I began to be afraid, I knew not why.
“‘Did you always do your best?’ she asked.
“‘No;’ I answered, conscience-smitten.
“‘Then’—
“I interrupted, for I could not bear to hear what I feared she would say.
“‘Who art thou, who look so pitiful and seem so dear, and whom I yet fear?’ I asked.
“‘I am thine Ideal—thine Angel of Judgment—who hath so often come to thee and from whom thou hast almost as often turned away.’
“‘But I serve you now,’ I cried. ‘I do my best. I have learned my lesson.’
“‘Yes, you have learned the lesson, and will do better next time,’ she said, compassionately.