was sweeterthan usual. Who sung so sweetly as Leonora? or who danced so nimbly asLouisa?
Away she was flying, all spirits and gayety, when Leonora's eyes full oftears, caught hers. Louisa silently let go her companions' hands, andquitting the dance, ran up to Leonora to inquire what was the matterwith her.
"Nothing," replied she, "that need interrupt you,--Go, my dear, anddance again."
Louisa immediately ran away to her garden, and pulling off her littlestraw hat, she lined it with the freshest strawberry leaves, and wasupon her knees before the strawberry bed when Cecilia came by. Ceciliawas not disposed to be pleased with Louisa at that instant, for tworeasons: because she was jealous of her, and because she had injuredher. The injury, however, Louisa had already forgotten; perhaps, to tellthings just as they were, she was not quite so much inclined to kissCecilia as she would have been before the fall of her mandarin, but thiswas the utmost extent of her malice, if it can be called malice.
"What are you doing there, little one?" said Cecilia in a sharp tone."Are you eating your early strawberries here all alone?" "No," saidLouisa, mysteriously; "I am not eating them." "What are you doing withthem--can't you answer then? I'm not playing with you, child!" "Oh! asto that, Cecilia, you know I need not answer you unless I choose it; notbut what I would, if you would only ask me civilly--and if you would notcall me _child_." "Why should not I call you child?""Because--because--I don't know;--but I wish you would stand out of mylight, Cecilia, for you are trampling upon all my strawberries." "I havenot touched one, you covetous little creature!" "Indeed--indeed,Cecilia, I am not covetous. I have not eaten one of them--they are allfor your friend Leonora. See how unjust you are." "Unjust! that's a cantword you learned of my friend Leonora, as you call her, but she is notmy friend now." "Not your friend now!" exclaimed Louisa. "Then I am sureyou must have done something _very_ naughty." "How!" said Cecilia,catching hold of her. "Let me go--Let me go!" cried Louisa, struggling."I won't give you one of my strawberries, for I don't like you at all.""You don't, don't you?" said Cecilia, provoked; and catching the hatfrom Louisa, she flung the strawberries over the hedge. "Will nobodyhelp me!" exclaimed Louisa, snatching her hat again, and running awaywith all her force.
"What have I done?" said Cecilia, recollecting herself. "Louisa!Louisa!" She called very loud, but Louisa would not turn back! she wasrunning to her companions.
They were still dancing, hand in hand, upon the grass, whilst Leonora,sitting in the middle, sang to them.
"Stop! stop! and hear me!" cried Louisa, breaking through them; andrushing up to Leonora, she threw her hat at her feet, and panting forbreath----
"It was full--almost full of my own strawberries," said she, "the firstI ever got out of my own garden. They should all have been for you,Leonora, but now I have not one left. They are all gone!" said she; andshe hid her face in Leonora's lap.
"Gone! gone where?" said every one at once, running up to her. "Cecilia!Cecilia!" said she, sobbing. "Cecilia!" repeated Leonora; "what ofCecilia?" "Yes, it was--it was."
"Come along with me," said Leonora, unwilling to have her friendexposed; "come, and I will get you some more strawberries." "Oh, I don'tmind the strawberries, indeed; but I wanted to have had the pleasure ofgiving them to you."
Leonora took her up in her arms to carry her away, but it was too late.
"What, Cecilia! Cecilia, who won the prize! It could not surely beCecilia," whispered every busy tongue.
At this instant the bell summoned them in.
"There she is!--There she is!" cried they, pointing to an arbour, whereCecilia was standing, ashamed and alone; and as they passed her, somelifted up their hands and eyes with astonishment, others whispered andhuddled mysteriously together, as if to avoid her. Leonora walked on,her head a little higher than usual.
"Leonora!" said Cecilia, timorously, as she passed.
"Oh, Cecilia! who would have thought that you had a bad heart?"
Cecilia turned her head aside and burst into tears.
"Oh no, indeed, she has not a bad heart," cried Louisa, running up toher, and throwing her arms round her neck; "she's very sorry!--are notyou, Cecilia? But don't cry any more, for I forgive you with all myheart; and I love you now, though I said I did not when I was in apassion."
"O, you sweet-tempered girl! how I love you," said Cecilia, kissing her.
"Well then, if you do, come along with me, and dry your eyes, for theyare so red."
"Go, my dear, and I'll come presently."
"Then I will keep a place for you next to me; but you must make haste,or you will have to come in when we have all set down to supper, andthen you will be so stared at! So don't stay now."
Cecilia followed Louisa with her eyes till she was out of sight. "Andis Louisa," said she to herself, "the only one who would stop to pityme? Mrs. Villars told me that this day should be mine; she littlethought how it would end!" Saying these words, Cecilia threw herselfdown upon the ground; her arm leaned upon a heap of turf which she hadraised in the morning, and which in the pride and gayety of her heart,she had called her throne.
At this instant, Mrs. Villars came out to enjoy the serenity of theevening, and passing by the arbour where Cecilia lay, she started;Cecilia rose hastily.
"Who is there?" said Mrs. Villars. "It is I, madam." "And who is I?""Cecilia." "Why, what keeps you here, my dear--where are yourcompanions? this is, perhaps, one of the happiest days of your life."
"O no, madam!" said Cecilia, hardly able to repress her tears.
"Why, my dear, what is the matter?"
Cecilia hesitated.
"Speak, my dear. You know that when I ask you to tell me any thing asyour friend, I never punish you as your governess; therefore you neednot be afraid to tell me what is the matter."
"No, madam, I am not afraid, but ashamed. You asked me why I was notwith my companions. Why, madam, because they have all left me, and----""And what, my dear?" "And I see that they all dislike me. And yet Idon't know why they should, for I take as much pains to please as any ofthem. All my masters seem satisfied with me; and you yourself, ma'am,were pleased this very morning to give me this bracelet; and I am sureyou would not have given it to any one who did not deserve it.""Certainly not. You did deserve it for your application--for yoursuccessful application. The prize was for the most assiduous, not forthe most amiable." "Then if it had been for the most amiable it wouldnot have been for me?"
Mrs. Villars, smiling--"Why, what do you think yourself, Cecilia? Youare better able to judge than I am. I can determine whether or no youapply to what I give you to learn; whether you attend to what I desireyou to do, and avoid what I desire you not to do. I know that I like youas a pupil, but I cannot know that I should like you as a companion,unless I were your companion; therefore I must judge of what I should doby seeing what others do in the same circumstances."
"O, pray don't, ma'am; for then you would not love me neither. And yet Ithink you would love me; for I hope that I am as ready to oblige, and asgood-natured, as----" "Yes, Cecilia, I don't doubt but that you would bevery good-natured to me, but I am afraid that I should not like youunless you were good-tempered too." "But, ma'am, by good-natured I meangood-tempered--it's all the same thing." "No, indeed, I understand bythem two very different things. You are good-natured, Cecilia, for youare desirous to oblige and serve your companions, to gain them praiseand save them from blame, to give them pleasure, and to relieve themfrom pain; but Leonora is good-tempered, for she can bear with theirfoibles, and acknowledge her own. Without disputing about the right, shesometimes yields to those who are in the wrong. In short, her temper isperfectly good, for it can bear and forbear."
"I wish that mine could," said Cecilia, sighing.
"It may," replied Mrs. Villars; "but it is not wishes alone which canimprove us in any thing. Turn the same exertion and perseverance whichhave won you the prize to-day to this object, and you will meet with thesame success; perhaps not on the first, the second, or the thirdattempt, but depend upon it that you w
ill at last; every new effort willweaken your bad habits and strengthen your good ones. But you must notexpect to succeed all at once; I repeat it to you, for habit must becounteracted by habit. It would be as extravagant in us to expect thatall our faults could be destroyed by one punishment, were it ever sosevere, as it was in the Roman emperor we were reading of a few days agoto wish that all the heads of his enemies were upon