or us,
as for the crystal, that the nobleness of life depends on its
consistency,--clearness of purpose,--quiet and ceaseless energy. All
doubt, and repenting, and botching, and retouching, and wondering what
it will be best to do next, are vice, as well as misery.

MARY (_much wondering_). But must not one repent when one does wrong,
and hesitate when one can't see one's way?

L. You have no business at all to do wrong; nor to get into any way that
you cannot see. Your intelligence should always be far in advance of
your act. Whenever you do not know what you are about, you are sure to
be doing wrong.

KATHLEEN. Oh, dear, but I never know what I am about!

L. Very true, Katie, but it is a great deal to know, if you know that.
And you find that you have done wrong afterwards; and perhaps some day
you may begin to know, or at least, think, what you are about.

ISABEL. But surely people can't do very wrong if they don't know, can
they? I mean, they can't be very naughty. They can be wrong, like
Kathleen or me, when we make mistakes; but not wrong in the dreadful
way. I can't express what I mean; but there are two sorts of wrong are
there not?

L. Yes, Isabel; but you will find that the great difference is between
kind and unkind wrongs, not between meant and unmeant wrong. Very few
people really mean to do wrong,--in a deep sense, none. They only don't
know what they are about. Cain did not mean to do wrong when he killed
Abel.

(ISABEL _draws a deep breath, and opens her eyes very
wide._)

L. No, Isabel; and there are countless Cains among us now, who kill
their brothers by the score a day, not only for less provocation than
Cain had, but for _no_ provocation,--and merely for what they can make
of their bones,--yet do not think they are doing wrong in the least.
Then sometimes you have the business reversed, as over in America these
last years, where you have seen Abel resolutely killing Cain, and not
thinking he is doing wrong. The great difficulty is always to open
people's eyes: to touch their feelings, and break their hearts, is easy;
the difficult thing is to break their heads. What does it matter, as
long as they remain stupid, whether you change their feelings or not?
You cannot be always at their elbow to tell them what is right: and they
may just do as wrong as before, or worse; and their best intentions
merely make the road smooth for them,--you know where, children. For it
is not the place