"Like an infernal angel of death!" thought Mr. Raymount, but would not rouse yet more the imagination of the little one by saying it. Hester gazed with steadfast mien at the floating spectre.
"You seem in no danger from that one," said Vavasor.
"I don't think I understand you," said Hester. "What danger can there be from any of them?"
"I mean of hating him."
"You are right; I do not feel the smallest inclination to hate him."
"Yet the ray is even uglier than the dog-fish."
"That may be—I think not—but who hates for ugliness? I never should. Ugliness only moves my pity."
"Then what do you hate for?" asked Vavasor. "—But I beg your pardon: you never hate! Let me ask then, what is it that makes you feel as if you might hate?"
"If you will look again at the dog-fish, and tell me the expression of its mouth, I may be able to answer you," she returned.
"I will," said Vavasor; and, betaking himself to a farther portion of the tank, he stood there watching a little shoal of those sharks of the northern seas. While he was gone Cornelius rejoined them.