"If you be very wicked, dear Marguerite," said Isoult, "you have hidden it from me hitherto. But what saith Mr Carter?" "He saith that I love my husband too much, and it is idolatry, which God will punish; and (_ay de mi_!) I ought not to grieve for him, but rather rejoice that he is called unto the high honour of martyrdom. _M'amie, c'est impossible_! And he saith that by such sinful and extravagant grieving, I shall call down on me, and on him also, the great displeasure of God. He saith God alway taketh away idols, and will not suffer idolatry in His people. It is an abominable sin, which He hateth; and we ought to pray to be kept from loving overmuch. _Ca peut-il etre, ma soeur? Que digas, nina_?" [What sayest thou, child?] Isoult looked at Thekla in dismay; for this was a new doctrine to her, and a very unpleasant one. Thekla's lip trembled, and her eyes flashed, but she did not speak; so Isoult answered herself: for poor Mrs Rose's wailings in French and Spanish showed that she was sorely troubled. "Well, dear Marguerite," said she, "if it be thus, I fear I am to the full as guilty as thou. I never prayed in all my life to be kept from loving Jack or my childre overmuch. I thought in mine ignorance that I was bound to love them as much as ever I could. Doth not Scripture tell us to love our neighbour as ourself?" "Ay," answered Mrs Rose, sobbing again, "and so I said to Mr Carter; but he answered that I loved him more than myself, because I did say I would rather to have died than he; and that was wicked, and idolatry." Thekla knelt down, and passed her arm round her mother, drawing her to herself, till Mrs Rose's head lay upon her bosom. "Mother," she said, "whatsoever Mr Carter or any other shall say, I dare say that this is not God's Gospel. There is an whole book of Scripture written to bid us love; but I never yet fell in with any to bid us hate. Nay, Mother dear, the wrong is not, assuredly, that we love each other too much, but only that we love God too little." "Thekla, thou art God's best gift to me!" said Mrs Rose, drying her eyes, and kissing her. "It made me so miserable, _mi querida_ [my darling--literally, my sought-for one], to think that God should be displeased with him because I loved him too much." "I wish Mr Carter would keep away!" answered Thekla, her eyes flashing anew. "If he hath no better Gospel than this to preach to God's tried servants, he might as well tarry at home." "But, _hija mia_ [my daughter]! thou knowest God's Word _so_ well!--tell me an other, if there be, to say whether it is wrong to grieve and sorrow when one is troubled. I do not think God meaneth to bid us do what we cannot do; and I cannot help it."