"Those whose merits do not spring from the ego, as do yours. To you, Lady James, Satan comes in his favourite guise, as an angel of light, and only the Ithuriel spear of the Holy Spirit can unmask him. Virtuous! I grant you are--because you pamper self too much to sacrifice your position and comforts to a love that is willing to lose the world for love alone. Good-tempered!--why not, with a healthy body and an equable nature? That you do not gossip is certainly a point in your favour, although I suspect that this abstinence is again the ego, which does not permit you to be sufficiently interested in others to discuss their affairs. You help those you like--feed them, as it were, with the over-abundant crumbs from your table; in the words of our Lord I can say, 'Do not even the publicans so?' But would you help those you hate, and at a sacrifice?" "Certainly not. Why should I? They would not be even grateful." "Quite so. You expect a reward for your good deeds." "In this world. You look for yours in the next." "No; though I admit that the temptation is strong. I try to serve God out of love and gratitude." "Ridiculous, even if true. Such self-abnegation is beyond me." "Yes, that is what I call being really and truly good." "I see--that is, I don't see. You are always so impossible." "Nothing is impossible with God's help, as without it nothing is possible. Listen, Lady James"; and with his soul on fire to raise her from the material to the spiritual, Lionel attempted reasonable argument. For over half an hour did he preach, expound, warn, demonstrate, quote, deduce, persuade; but at the end of thirty-five rapid minutes he found her and himself again at the starting point. Leah listened critically, and even with interest. Hindered by her limitations from seeing a satisfactory conclusion, she declined the tournament, and retired to watch her opponent tilt at giants which she mistook for windmills. Said the inversely deceived Donna Quixota: "How well you talk, Lionel! Why don't you leave the Church and go in for Parliament?" The curate shook the cold water of this douche out of his ears, and rose, markedly discouraged. "I cannot make you understand," he said sadly; "only the Holy Spirit can convince you of your need." "My need of what?" "Of salvation." "That would be adding sugar to honey, and I feel very contented with my honey. Good health, plenty of money, a tolerable position, and----" "And you have yet to reckon with God. All these things come from Him, and all He can take away." "I don't agree with you." "Nor will you, until your pride is broken." "That it never will be," said Leah, superbly. "So you think in your insolence of beauty and health. But when you come to die?" "Well, then, I shall die, and that's all about it."