"But you should have known, my dear. You were told to watch her every minute."
"Well, I meant to, but I got thinking of something else, and then I thought I could manage well enough, and I was vexed at Uncle Duncan for thinking I couldn't do as well for Therese as Aunt Baby," said Marion, coming to the truth at last.
"Then, you see, it was just as I told you. You were thinking too much about yourself, and feeling angry that any one, even one so much older as Aunt Baby, should be considered your superior. My dear child, as long as you allow yourself in such a spirit as that, you will never have any peace either within or without."
"Well, I can't bear to be despised."
"Is it despising a girl of fifteen to think that she is not equal in judgment and experience to a woman of forty? It would be very unreasonable to expect any such thing."
"I shall never have any comfort or be any comfort to anybody in the world," said Marion, crying again. "If my father had lived, it would have been different, but nobody feels for me or cares for me. My mother has deserted me for a stranger, and there is nobody to love or sympathize with me."
"Marion, you are 'sinning your mercies,' as my father says," said her aunt. "There is not a girl in the United States who has a better home or kinder friends than you have."
"I thought you would feel for me when you came," continued Marion, between her sobs, "but you and Uncle Duncan are just like all the rest. You look down on me and despise me."
"You certainly are not going on in a way to make me respect you at present," replied Mrs. Campbell. "I must confess I am disappointed in you."
Mrs. Campbell turned to leave the room.