"I understood you were from the country," said Ida.
"So I am—but my sister resides here, and hers is another home to me. I love the country, yet I like Richmond. It is a beautiful city," she continued, her glance roving over the landscape.
"Outwardly—yes."
"You do not think the inhabitants adapted to their abode, then?"
"I do not know that they are worse than the rest of mankind. It is a matter of astonishment to me, that this globe should have been set apart as the theatre for so depraved a race."
"I don't know," said Carry, cheerily. "I find it a nice world—the best I am acquainted with; and the people harmless, good creatures—some dearer to me than others; but I entertain a fraternal affection for all."
"I have read of philanthropists," said Ida; "but you are the sole specimen I have seen. And this universal love—is it content to exist without a reciprocation?"
"The heart would be soon emptied were this so," returned the other, her bright face becoming serious. "There are many who love me; if any dislike, I am in blissful ignorance of the sentiment and its cause."
"But if your friends were removed, and replaced by enemies?"
"I would teach them friendship. My affection for the dead would make me more desirous to benefit the living."