"Ada listened and looked," continued Mr. Neill; "and the more she looked and listened, the more she regretted that ragged beggars should one day be clothed in just the same manner as the possessor of a garment so fine. 'I almost think that I might wear both,' she murmured, half aloud; 'I might appear in my own beauteous robe, and if my dress should be not quite complete, the King's mantle would cover all defects.'" "'Ada, Ada!' whispered a voice in the air. The girl started and gazed around, but no human form was to be seen." "'Ada, my name is Conscience,' continued the voice, 'and my accents fall not on the ear; they are heard in the depths of the heart. I have read thy thoughts, I know thy desires, and I come unto thee with a message. If thou, for but one day, canst keep thy garment quite white and fair, thou mayest wear it with joy and honor. But thou must see it by sunlight, and not by torchlight, and thine eyes must be anointed with Self-knowledge,—a salve which thou shalt find close to thy Bible when thou lookest on it first in the morning.'" "'Be content, Ada,' said Self-love, with a smile, 'a single day is no long time of trial, and thou hast hitherto kept thy garment so fair, that thou hast small reason to fear a stain.'" "The first thing that Ada did in the morning was to anoint her eyes with the golden salve which, as Conscience had promised, she found lying close to her Bible. She resolved not to look at her robe till a part of the day should be over, and then to examine it closely, to see whether the smallest speck or stain had sullied its pearly whiteness." "Had I been Ada, I should have been very careful in my conduct on that day," observed Lydia, with a smile. "So Ada determined to be. She resolved to crowd it with fresh good works. She read double her usual number of chapters, was very long at her prayers, though it must be confessed that all the time that she was perusing God's holy Word, or making show of pleading with her Maker, her thoughts were wandering in every direction—now to her birds, now to her new book, now to her plans for the morrow, and now, alas! resting with bitterness upon some affront received from a neighbor. While Ada read or knelt, a dim, misty stain was slowly spreading over her white garment; that which she believed to be a merit, in God's eyes was full of sin." "But Ada was not always in the quietness of her own room; she had to go forth and mix with others. She determined to visit a great many poor people, and do a great deal of good; but she lost her temper twice before she set out. First, with the servant, for keeping her waiting while preparing some broth for a poor invalid; then with her mother for sending her to change her dress for one of coarser material, as it seemed likely to rain. That half-hour of peevish impatience left its mark on the beautiful garment." "Oh, uncle, such trifles could never be counted," exclaimed Lydia.