“Not directly, of course. Your tact and delicacy were proof against such indiscretion; but you know you meant it.”
“I 'll tell you what I know: I know that I never saw a girl, except yourself, who liked to pain—aye, to torture—those who cared for her; who would infinitely rather indulge her mood of mockery than—than—”
“Pray, finish. It's not every day I have the fortune to hear such candor. Tell me what it is that I postpone to my love of sarcasm?”
“I 've done. I 've been very rude to you, and I ask your pardon. I was not very polished in my best of days, and I take it my late schooling has not done much to improve me. When I was coming here I swore an oath to myself that, no matter what you 'd say to me, I 'd not lose temper, nor make a resentful answer to anything; and now I see I 've forgotten all my good intentions, and the best thing I can do is to ask you to forgive me, and go my ways.”
“I 'm not offended,” said she, calmly, without raising her eyes. “I suppose if the balance were struck between us, I did more to provoke you than you did to wound me.”
“What is this I hear about being provoked and wounded?” cried Nelly, coming up to where they sat.
“Your brother and I have been quarrelling, that's all. We thought it the pleasantest way to pass the time till you came back; and we have succeeded to perfection.”
“I declare, Julia, this is too bad,” cried Nelly.
“But why 'Julia'? Why am I singled out as the culprit? Is he so above reproach that he could not be in the wrong?”
“I know I was in the wrong, and I 've said so; but now let Nelly be judge between us. Here is the way it began—”