And
what did you hear? Nothing good, of course? The bad thing was said to
punish you for listening."
"I heard," said Priscilla, her own cheeks crimson now, "I heard you
say that it gave you an aesthetic pleasure to be kind, and that was
why you were good to me."
Maggie felt her own color rising.
"Well, my dear," she said, "it still gives me an aesthetic pleasure to
be kind. You could not expect me to fall in love with you the moment I
saw you. I was kind to you then, perhaps, for the reason I stated. It
is very different now."
"It was wrong of you to be kind to me for that reason."
"Wrong of me? What an extraordinary girl you are, Priscilla-- why was
it wrong of me?"
"Because I learned to love you. You were gentle to me and spoke
courteously when others were rude and only laughed; my whole heart
went out to you when you were so sweet and gentle and kind. I did not
think-- I could not possibly think-- that you were good just because
it gave you a sort of selfish pleasure. When I heard your words I felt
dreadful. I hated St. Benet's; I wished I had never come. Your words
turned everything to bitterness for me."
"Did they really, Priscilla? Oh, Prissie! what a thoughtless, wild,
impulsive creature I am. Well, I don't feel now as I did that night.
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