Suddenly Hester felt nearer her poor than ever before, and it comforted her. The bare soul of humanity comforted her. She was not merely of the same flesh and blood with them—not even of the same soul and spirit only, but of the same failing, sinning, blundering breed. Their shame was hers: the son of her mother, the son of her father was a thief! She was and would be more one with them than ever before. If they made less of crime in another, they also made less of innocence from it in themselves! Was it not even better to do wrong, she asked herself, than to think it a great thing not to do it? What merit was there in being what it would be contemptible not to be? The Lord could get nearer to the publican than the Pharisee, to the woman who was a sinner than the self-righteous, honest woman. The Pharisee was a good man, but he thought it a fine thing to be good. The other was humble enough to know what a sad thing it was to be bad. Let her just get among her nice, honest, wicked, poor ones, out of this atmosphere of pretence and appearance, and she would breathe again!

She dropped on her knees and cried to her Father in heaven to make her heart clean altogether, to deliver her from everything mean and faithless, to make her turn from any shadow of evil as thoroughly as she would have her brother repent of the stealing that made them all so ashamed. Like a woman in the wrong, she drew nigh the feet of her master. She too was a sinner. Her heart needed his cleansing as much as any!

And then came another God-given thought. For suddenly she perceived that her self had made her severe and indignant to the son of her own mother, while she was indulgent toward those whose evil did not touch her. If God were to do like her, how many would be redeemed? Corney, whom she had taken care of as a baby—was he not equally to be loved in his sin as the poor who so occupied her heart? But God knew all the difficulties that beset men, and gave them fair play even when sisters did not: he would redeem Corney yet!