'Yet you once wanted me to give up his friendship, to refuse his offer, to practically behave as though I did not love him, and all for the sake of Uncle Ross's money!'
'Cath, don't throw my past folly in my face! I didn't know your uncle then, and I felt sure you were championing the one because he was the poorer,—out of a mingling of quixotic chivalry and obstinate pride.'
'What is your opinion of my poor little Agatha?'
'I don't like her—I've not advanced far enough in the study or practice of universal charity to feel sure that I love her, as we are told to love all men! As for loving her specially, as you seem to do, that is quite out of the question for me,—a thing far beyond the bounds of possibility.'
'She only shows you her outward self,—the bad manners and forgetfulness of others of a spoilt child; if she had shown you her heart, with all its pathetic longings, fears, and affections, all its contradictory beauty and ugliness, you would be just as fond of her as I am.'
'I can't think so. The only reason why I feel the least tenderness towards her is the fondness she shows for my babies.'
'The more you see of her the faster will grow that tenderness. She is one of the many girls who suffer countless deprivations on account of their unconciliatory manners, and who remain lonely and morbid because no one ever loves them well enough to gain their confidence.'
'But supposing there seems nothing worth loving?'
'That can't ever be—not to a person who sees God's handiwork—something, therefore, of God's own beauty—in every human face,' said Catherine.
Before the day came for Mrs. Arderne's departure from Beverbridge, she had become genuinely interested in Agatha, and much more friendly towards her. Ted and Toddie, with the impulsiveness of their youth, had forced their passage into Agatha's love. 'We only just wanted to be nice at first, 'cause we was sowwy for you, 'cause you can't get up,' Ted announced once; 'but now we weally loves 'oo.'