"I took my revenge though," returned Cathy, looking a little guilty; "I went away without bidding him good-bye."
"That was hardly kind."
"So he said. I was very remorseful, and wrote him a penitent little note a week afterwards. The letter I got in return made me feel very small."
"I dare say he forgave you."
"Dear old Saint Christopher, I know he did; but he was terribly hurt; Langley told me so. I often think we are 'old men of the mountain' to ourselves. How one longs sometimes to throw off one's self and one's faults!"
"You have less than any one I know," returned Queenie, who had a warm admiration for the daring and generous-hearted girl.
"You are wrong," returned Cathy, humbly; "Mr. Logan knows me best. I do want to be true, as true as I know how to be. I think I hate conventional shams as much as he does; it is this want of truth in the world that appals one."
"And the lack of kindness," put in Queenie, who had seen the darker side of human nature.
"No, indeed there is plenty of kindness in the world. You have grown misanthropic with hard usage; you will change your mind when you come among us."
"Yes, you must make allowances for me," she said, somewhat sadly; "I have been too much in contact with coarse, selfish minds to judge leniently. Cathy, how can women be so censorious to their own sex? how can they oppress and grieve a little child in the way Miss Titheridge and Fraulein oppress Emmie?"