The heart of Mrs. Bitterness quailed within her, but she was absolutely determined to resist the Shepherd’s influence over her husband and to see that he did not make her lose the kingdom on which her heart was set. For the moment she said nothing, but with all the strength of her will, rallied every power which she possessed to resist him to the utmost. Against her will, however, she raised her eyes and looked across at the Shepherd, and saw that he was gazing straight at her as though he could read her thoughts as plainly as if she had spoken them aloud. But there was a look of compassionate pity on his face which surprised her and in some dreadful way seemed almost as though it would break through her defenses. She said nothing, but rallied her powers of resistance still more desperately.

“It is hard for a rich person to enter into the Kingdom of Love,” said the Shepherd, speaking directly to her.

“Why so?” asked Mrs. Bitterness, stubbornly folding her lips together as tightly as possible.

“Because one cannot love God and wealth too,” said the Shepherd. “It simply cannot be done.”

“If you will excuse me, sir,” said Mrs. Bitterness coldly, “I must tell you that I cannot justly be accused of not loving God. I attend church faithfully (whenever the business permits it); we contribute more generously than most people do to the charities which we consider to be deserving, and all my little children have been properly baptized. As for loving my neighbor as myself (which I suppose you will quote at me next), no one, I am sure, can possibly accuse me of injustice, or meanness, or unkindness to anyone, and I do not know of anything which my Maker can justly condemn me for. Indeed, the very fact that our business has prospered makes it possible for my husband and myself to give far more generously to needy charities than we were able to do before. I repeat, I believe you to be mistaken in saying that one cannot love one’s Maker and one’s neighbor and wealth at the same time.”

“You do not love that poor girl upstairs in the attic,” said the Shepherd as quietly and as gently as possible.

A deep, angry flush rose in Murmuring’s cheeks. “What has she been saying against me?” she asked through tightly compressed lips.

“Nothing at all,” said the Shepherd still very quietly, but as he spoke his eyes strayed round the comfortable, airy room in which they were sitting and rested on the well-filled table. “I cannot help seeing that if you loved her as yourself she would not be lying up there in that scorching attic, weak and ill as she is, subsisting on bread and tea and any little extras which are provided for her through the kindness of others.”