“Then make that sorry of use to you, Cecilia, and fix it steadily in your thoughts, as you hope to be good and happy, that if you suffer yourself to yield to your passion upon every occasion, anger and its consequences will become familiar to your mind; and, in the same proportion, your sense of shame will be weakened, till what you began with doing from sudden impulse you will end with doing from habit and choice: then you would, indeed, according to our definition, have a bad heart.”
“Oh, madam! I hope—I am sure I never shall.”
“No, indeed, Cecilia; I do, indeed, believe that you never will; on the contrary, I think that you have a very good disposition, and what is of infinitely more consequence to you, an active desire of improvement. Show me that you have as much perseverance as you have candour, and I shall not despair of your becoming everything that I could wish.”
Here Cecilia’s countenance brightened, and she ran up the steps in almost as high spirits as she ran down them in the morning.
“Good-night to you, Cecilia,” said Mrs. Villars, as she was crossing the hall. “Good-night to you, madam,” said Cecilia; and she ran upstairs to bed. She could not go to sleep; but she lay awake, reflecting upon the events of the preceding day, and forming resolutions for the future, at the same time that she had resolved, and resolved without effect, she wished to give her mind some more powerful motive. Ambition she knew to be its most powerful incentive. “Have I not,” said she to herself, “already won the prize of application, and cannot the same application procure me a much higher prize? Mrs. Villars said that if the prize had been promised to the most amiable, it would not have been given to me. Perhaps it would not yesterday, perhaps it might not to-morrow; but that is no reason that I should despair of ever deserving it.”.
In consequence of this reasoning, Cecilia formed a design of proposing to her companions that they should give a prize, the first of the ensuing month (the 1st of June), to the most amiable. Mrs. Villars applauded the scheme, and her companions adopted it with the greatest alacrity.
“Let the prize,” said they, “be a bracelet of our own hair;” and instantly their shining scissors were produced, and each contributed a lock of their hair. They formed the most beautiful gradation of colours, from the palest auburn to the brightest black. Who was to have the honour of plaiting them? was now the question. Caroline begged that she might, as she could plait very neatly, she said. Cecilia, however, was equally sure that she could do it much better; and a dispute would have inevitably ensued, if Cecilia, recollecting herself just as her colour rose to scarlet, had not yielded—yielded, with no very good grace indeed, but as well as could be expected for the first time. For it is habit which confers ease; and without ease, even in moral actions, there can be no grace.
The bracelet was plaited in the neatest manner by Caroline, finished round the edge with silver twist, and on it was worked, in the smallest silver letters, this motto, “To the Most Amiable.” The moment it was completed, everybody begged to try it on. It fastened with little silver clasps, and as it was made large enough for the eldest girls, it was too large for the youngest. Of this they bitterly complained, and unanimously entreated that it might be cut to fit them.
“How foolish!” exclaimed Cecilia; “don’t you perceive that if any of you win it, you have nothing to do but to put the clips a little further from the edge, but if we get it, we can’t make it larger?”
“Very true,” said they; “but you need not to have called us foolish, Cecilia.”