"It's not the doing of the right, you see," said the cobbler, "--I mean, that's not itself the end, but the right humour of the soul towards all things thought or felt or done! That's righteousness, and out of that comes, out of the very necessity of nature, all right deeds of whatever kind. Where they do not come forth, it's where the soul, the thought of the man's not right.... It may even be said it's a small thing that a man should do wrong, so long as he's capable of doing wrong, and does not love the right with heart and soul. But oh, it's not at small thing that he should be capable!"
"Surely, Andrew," interposed his wife, holding up her hands in mild deprecation, "you wouldn't let the girl [their grandchild, who is possibly involved in an illicit relationship] do wrong if you could hold her right?"
"No, I wouldn't," replied her husband, "--suposing the holding of her right to fall in with any degree of perception of the right on her part. But supposing it was only the holding of her from evil by outward constraint, leaving her ready upon the first opportunity to turn aside; whereas, if she had done wrong, she would repent of it, and see what a foul thing it was to go against the holy will of him who made and died for her--I leave you to judge for yourself what any man who loved God and loved the girl and loved the right, would choose. We must hold both eyes open upon the truth, and not blink sideways upon the world and its righteousness with one of them. Who wouldn't be Zaccheus with the Lord in his house, and the righteousness of God himself growing in his heart, rather than the proud Pharisee who did not know what evil he was doing, and thought it a shame to speak with such a man as Zaccheus!"