one neck, that hemight cut them off by one blow."
Here Mrs. Villars took Cecilia by the hand, and they began to walk home.Such was the nature of Cecilia's mind, that, when any object wasforcibly impressed on her imagination, it caused a temporary suspensionof her reasoning faculties. Hope was too strong a stimulus for herspirits; and when fear did take possession of her mind, it was attendedwith total debility. Her vanity was now as much mortified as in themorning it had been elated. She walked on with Mrs. Villars in silenceuntil they came under the shade of the elm-tree walk, and then, fixingher eyes upon Mrs. Villars, she stopped short. "Do you think, madam,"said she, with hesitation, "do you think, madam, that I have a badheart?"
"A bad heart, my dear! why, what put that into your head?"
"Leonora said that I had, ma'am, and I felt ashamed when she said so."
"But, my dear, how can Leonora tell whether your heart be good or bad?However, in the first place, tell me what you mean by a bad heart."
"Indeed, I do not know what is meant by it, ma'am; but it is somethingwhich every body hates."
"And why do they hate it?"
"Because they think that it will hurt them, ma'am, I believe; and thatthose who have bad hearts take delight in doing mischief; and that theynever do any body good but for their own ends."
"Then the best definition which you can give me of a bad heart is thatit is some constant propensity to hurt others, and to do wrong for thesake of doing wrong."
"Yes, ma'am, but that is not all neither; there is still something elsemeant; something which I cannot express--which, indeed, I neverdistinctly understood; but of which, therefore, I was the more afraid."
"Well, then, to begin with what you do understand, tell me, Cecilia, doyou really think it possible to be wicked merely for the love ofwickedness? No human being becomes wicked all at once; a man begins bydoing wrong because it is, or because he thinks it is for his interest;if he continue to do so, he must conquer his sense of shame, and losehis love of virtue. But how can you, Cecilia, who feel such a strongsense of shame, and such an eager desire to improve, imagine that youhave a bad heart?"
"Indeed, madam, I never did, until every body told me so, and then Ibegan to be frightened about it. This very evening, ma'am, when I wasin a passion, I threw little Louisa's strawberries away; which, I amsure, I was very sorry for afterwards; and Leonora and every body criedout that I had a bad heart; but I am sure that I was only in a passion."
"Very likely. And when you are in a passion, as you call it, Cecilia,you see that you are tempted to do harm to others; if they do not feelangry themselves, they do not sympathize with you; they do not perceivethe motive which actuates you, and then they say that you have a badheart. I dare say, however, when your passion is over, and when yourecollect yourself, you are very sorry for what you have done and said;are not you?"
"Yes, indeed, madam, very sorry."
"Then make that sorrow of use to you, Cecilia, and fix it steadily inyour thoughts, as you hope to be good and happy, that, if you sufferyourself to yield to your passion upon every trifling occasion, angerand its consequences will become familiar to your mind; and in the sameproportion your sense of shame will be weakened, till what you beganwith doing from sudden impulse you will end with doing from habit andchoice; and then you would, indeed, according to our definition, have abad heart."
"Oh, madam! I hope--I am sure I never shall."
"No, indeed, Cecilia; I do, indeed, believe that you never will; on thecontrary, I think that you have a very good disposition, and, what is ofinfinitely more consequence to you, an active desire of improvement.Show me that you have as much perseverance as you have candour, and Ishall not despair of your becoming every thing that I could wish."
Here Cecilia's countenance brightened, and she ran up the steps inalmost as high spirits as she ran down them in the morning.
"Good night to you, Cecilia," said Mrs. Villars, as she was crossing thehall. "Good night to you, madam," said Cecilia; and she ran up stairsto bed.
She could not go to sleep, but she lay awake reflecting upon the eventsof the preceding day, and forming resolutions for the future; at thesame time, considering that she had resolved, and resolved withouteffect, she wished to give her mind some more powerful motive; ambitionshe knew to be its most powerful incentive.
"Have I not," said she to herself, "already won the prize ofapplication, and cannot the same application procure me a much higherprize? Mrs. Villars said that if the prize had been promised to the mostamiable it would not have been given to me; perhaps it would notyesterday--perhaps it might not to-morrow; but that is no reason that Ishould despair of ever deserving it."
In consequence of this reasoning, Cecilia formed a design of proposingto her companions that they should give a prize, the first of theensuing month (the first of June), to the most amiable. Mrs. Villarsapplauded the scheme, and her companions adopted it with the greatestalacrity.
"Let the prize," said they, "be a bracelet of our own hair;" andinstantly their shining scissors were procured, and each contributed alock of her hair. They formed the most beautiful gradation of colours,from the palest auburn to the brightest black. Who was to have thehonour of plaiting them was now the question.
Caroline begged that she might, as she could plait very neatly, shesaid.
Cecilia, however, was equally sure that she could do it much better, anda dispute would inevitably have ensued, if Cecilia, recollecting herselfjust as her colour rose to scarlet, had not yielded--yielded with novery good grace indeed, but as well as could be expected for the firsttime. For it is habit which confers ease; and without ease, even inmoral actions, there can be no grace.
The bracelet was plaited in the neatest manner by Caroline, finishedround the edge with silver twist, and on it was worked, in the smallestsilver letters, this motto, TO THE MOST AMIABLE. The moment it wascompleted, every body begged to try it on. It fastened with littlesilver clasps, and as it was made large enough for the eldest girls, itwas too large for the youngest; of this they bitterly complained, andunanimously entreated that it might be cut to fit them.
"How foolish!" exclaimed Cecilia. "Don't you perceive that, if you winit, you have nothing to do but to put the clasps a little further fromthe edge? but if we get it, we can't make it larger."
"Very true," said they, "but you need not to have called us foolish,Cecilia!"
It was by such hasty and unguarded expressions as these that Ceciliaoffended; a slight difference in the manner makes a very material one inthe effect. Cecilia lost more love by general petulance than she couldgain by the greatest particular exertions.
How far she succeeded in curing herself of this defect, how far shebecame deserving of the bracelet, and to whom the bracelet was given,shall be told in the history of the first of June.