"The first thing I heard perplexed me," said she. "It was of Monseigneur Saint John, who said that he that is born of God doth not commit sin: and it troubled me sorely for a time, since I knew I did sin, and feared lest I was therefore not born of God. But one day, Father Eudes read again, from the very same writing, that ’If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father,’ and likewise that if we say we have no sin, we are liars. So then I thought, Well! how is this? Monseigneur the holy Apostle would not contradict himself. But still I could not see how to reconcile them, though I thought and thought, till my brain felt nearly cracked. And all at once, Father Eudes read—thanks be to the good God!—something from Monseigneur Saint Paul, which put it all right." "What was that?" "Ah! I could not get it by heart. It was too difficult, and very long. But it was something like this: that in a Christian man there are two hearts, of which the one, which is from God, does not sin at all; and the other, which is the evil heart born in us, is always committing sin." "But, Margot, which of thy two hearts is thyself?" "Ha! I cannot answer such questions. The good God will know." "But art thou sure those are not wicked people?" "Certainly, no. Monseigneur Saint Paul said ’I’ and ’me’ all through." "Oh, but, Margot!—he could not have meant himself." "If he had not meant what he said, I should think he would have mentioned it," said Marguerite in her dry, quaint style. "Well, a holy Apostle is different, of course," said I. "But it looks very odd to me, that anybody living now should fancy he never does wrong." "Ah, the poor soul!" said Marguerite. "The good God knows better, if he do not." *CHAPTER VIII.* _*AS GOOD AS MOST PEOPLE*_*.* The best way to see Divine light is to put out your own candle. This morning the Lady Princess of Antioch visited the Lady Queen, and remained for the day, taking her departure only just before the gates were closed, for she preferred to camp out at night. She is quite young, and is a niece of the Lady Queen. After she was gone, we were talking about her in the bower, and from her we came to speak of the late Princess, her lord’s mother. "Pray do not talk of her!" said Lady Isabel. "She made herself a bye-word by her shameless behaviour." "Only thoughtless," remonstrated Lady Sybil gently. "I never thought she deserved what was said of her." "Oh no!—you never think anybody does," sneered her sister. "I could not have associated with such a woman. She must have known what was said of her. I wonder that she was brazen enough to show herself in public at all." "But think, Isabel! I do not believe she did know. You know she was not at all clever." "She was half-witted, or not much better," was the answer. "Oh yes, I know that. But she must have known." "I do not think she did!" said Lady Sybil earnestly.