"Oh yes! very often," said I. "That is the flesh," said she. "And ’they that are of Christ the flesh have crucified, with its passions and its lusts.’" "Oh dear!" I exclaimed, almost involuntarily. "Very unpleasant, is it not?" said Lady Judith, smiling. "Ah, dear child, the flesh takes long in dying. Crucifixion is a very slow process; and a very painful process. They that are not willing to ’endure hardness’ had better not enlist in the army of Jesus Christ." "Ah, that is what I always thought," said I; "religious persons cannot be very happy. Of course, it would not be right for them; they wait till the next world. And yet—old Marguerite always seems happy. I do not quite understand it." "Child!" Lady Judith dropped her broidering, and the deep, sweet grey eyes looked earnestly into mine. "What dost thou know of happiness? Helena, following Christ is not a hardship; it is a luxury. The happiness—or rather the mirth—of this world is often incompatible with it; but it is because the one is so far above the other that it extinguishes it, as the light of the sun extinguishes the lamp. Yet who would prefer the lamp before the sunlight? Tell me, Helena, hast thou any wish to go to Heaven?" "Certainly, holy Mother." "And what dost thou expect to find there? I should be glad to know." I could hardly tell where to begin. "Well," I said, after a moment’s thought, "I expect to fly, and to enjoy myself intensely; and never to have another pain, nor shed a tear; and to see all whom I love, and be always with them, and love them and be loved by them for ever and ever. And there will be all manner of delights and pleasures. I cannot think of anything else." "And that is thy Heaven?" said Lady Judith, with a smile in which I thought the chief ingredient was tender compassion, though I could not see why. "Ah, child, it would be no Heaven at all to me. Verily, ’as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ Pleasure, and ease, and earthly love—these are thy treasures, Helena. ’For where thy treasure is, there shall thine heart be.’" "But what is the matter with my Heaven?" said I, feeling a little aggrieved. "Why, my child, thou hast left out the central figure. What were a coronation if there were no king? or a wedding where there were no bride? Why, what was left would be equivalent to nothing. Ask thine old nurse, and see if thy Heaven would satisfy her. Ah, ’whom have we in Heaven but _Thee_? and there is none upon earth that we desire in comparison of Thee!’ Old Marguerite understands that. Dost thou, my maiden?" I shook my head. I felt too mortified to speak. To have a poor, ignorant villein woman held up to me, as knowing more than I knew, and being happier than I, really was humiliating. Yet I could not resent it from one so high as Lady Judith.