A difficult question this for any outsider to answer with respect to another, difficult enough for Hermione herself. For with many people self-knowledge is very small in amount, and there are almost unlimited capabilities of self-deception. Reality and unreality are often strangely intermixed, and entire transparency is as rare as it is beautiful.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
A CHILD CONFIDANTE.
"MARJORY, you dear!" a soft voice said.
Julia had been for a good ramble, and was now on her way homeward, through the meadow which bounded the Rectory kitchen-garden. It was a low-lying meadow, sloping downward to the willow-fringed border of a small stream, and Julia went among the willows to the very edge, regardless of mud. She had on thick boots, and the trickle of water proved attractive. While standing there, bent forward in the attitude of observation, the lovingly-uttered words reached her from behind.
"Marjory, you dear!"
Julia straightened her back, and glanced round. She recognised Mittie's voice, of course, though the tender intonation was not usual.
Just beyond the willow-margin Mittie had taken up her position on a slight grassy rise, her ungloved hands clasped, her black eyes glowing, her rosy lips pouting as if in readiness for a kiss.
But as Julia turned Mittie's face fell.
"Oh, I thought it was Marjory! Aunt Julia, you'll go right into the water if you stay there. It's as slippery as anything."