Such was the nature of Cecilia's mind, that, when any object was forcibly impressed on her imagination, it caused temporary suspension of her reasoning faculties. Hope was too strong a stimulus for her spirits; and when fear did take possession of her mind, it was attended with total debility. Her vanity was now as much mortified as in the morning it had been elated. She walked on with Mrs. Villars in silence until they came under the shade of the elm tree walk, and then, fixing her eyes upon Mrs. Villars, she stopped short.
"Do you think, madam," said she, with hesitation, "do you think, madam, that I have a bad heart?"
"A bad heart, my dear! Why, what put that into your head?"
"Leonora said that I had, ma'am, and I felt ashamed when she said so."
"But, my dear, how can Leonora tell whether your heart be good or bad? However, in the first place, tell me what you mean by a bad heart."
"Indeed, I do not know what is meant by it, ma'am; but it is something which every body hates."
"And why do they hate it?"
"Because they think that it will hurt them, ma'am, I believe; and that those who have bad hearts take delight in doing mischief; and that they never do any body good but for their own ends."
"Then the best definition which you can give me of a bad heart is that it is some constant propensity to hurt others, and to do wrong for the sake of doing wrong."
"Yes, ma'am, but that is not all neither; there is still something else meant; something which I cannot express—which, indeed, I never distinctly understood; but of which, therefore, I was the more afraid."