"Why, do good with it. You have done me good."
"Ah! but that is because you are good, not because I am," I said sadly.
"I am not good, though perhaps the reason why you have done me good lies more with me than you. I don't suppose—forgive me for saying it—that your beauty was given you only to win men's hearts, because that does not make them happy, or better."
"You are thinking, I suppose, of Mr. Falconer. I am sure I did not want him to fall in love with me, and make such a fuss. It was very uncomfortable."
"And don't you think you might have helped it? Really, now, Miss Clifford?"
"Well, yes, I might perhaps have stopped him if I had been rude and disagreeable to him."
"I don't believe you are ever that to any one. You try to please everybody."
"There! that is just it!" I exclaimed. "Why, isn't that using my talent, taking for granted I have it? What ought I to do with it?"
"I know what a Catholic girl would think of, because Catholics are taught in all things to acknowledge God, and to refer all to him. Think what this gift of beauty is—the key to all hearts; it challenges and receives love as soon as seen. Don't you feel instantly attracted by a beautiful face, and turn with pleasure and affection toward the possessor, before she has given any evidence of other claims to be loved?"
"Yes; and for a person who can't help wanting to please and to be loved, it is an advantage, isn't it?"