“I know you will all think me a shocking sinner to stay at home translating this book,” said Frithiof.
“No, we shant,” said Cecil quietly. “If you thought it was right to go to church of course you would go. You look at things differently.”
He was a little startled by her liberality.
“You assume by that that I always do what I know to be right,” he said, smiling. “What makes you suppose any such thing?”
“I can’t tell you exactly; but don’t you think one has a sort of instinct as to people? without really having heard anything about them, one can often know that they are good or bad.”
“I think one is often horribly mistaken in people,” said Frithiof moodily.
“Yes; sometimes one gets unfairly prejudiced, perhaps, by a mere likeness to another person whom one dislikes. Oh, I quite allow that this sort of instinct is not infallible.”
“You are much more liable to think too well of people than not well enough,” said Frithiof. “You are a woman and have seen but little of the world. Wait till you have been utterly deceived in some one, and then your eyes will be opened, and you will see that most people are at heart mean and selfish and contemptible.”
“But there is one thing that opens one’s eyes to see what is good in people,” said Cecil. “You can’t love all humanity and yet think them mean and contemptible, you soon see that they are worth a great deal.”
“It is as you said just now,” said Frithiof, after a minute’s silence, “we look at things differently. You look at the world out of charitable eyes. I look at it seeing its baseness and despising it. Some day you will see that my view is correct; you will find that your kindly judgments are wrong. Perhaps I shall be the first to undeceive you, for you are utterly wrong about me. You think me good, but it is ten to one that I go to the bad altogether; after all, it would be the easiest way and the most amusing.”