ess,
supposing she was reading her pupil's mind. "Where there is no mother
by a young girl's side, and no brothers and sisters to serve, the fancy
and the heart are apt to fix prematurely on some object--too likely, in
that case, to be one which will deceive and fail. But, my dear, such a
young girl owes duty to herself, if God has seen fit to make her
solitary in the world."
"One cannot say solitary," interposed Euphrosyne, "or without duties."
"You are right, my love. No one is, indeed, solitary in life, (blessed
be God!) nor without duties. As I was going to say, such a young girl's
business is to apply herself diligently to her education, during the
years usually devoted to instruction. This is the work appointed to her
youth. If, while her mind is yet ignorant, her judgment inexperienced,
and her tastes actually unformed, she indulges any affection or fancy
which makes her studies tedious, her companions dull, and her mind and
spirits listless, she has fallen into a fearful snare."
"How long then would you have a girl's education go on? And if her
lover be very particularly wise and learned, do not you think she may
learn more from him than in any other way? And if she be not dull and
listless, but very happy--"
"Every girl," interrupted the abbess, with a grave smile, "thinks her
lover the wisest man in the world: and no girl in love would exchange
her dreams for the gayest activity of the fancy-free."
"Well, but, as to the age," persisted Euphrosyne; "how soon--"
"That depends upon circumstances, my dear. But in all cases, I consider
sixteen too early."
"Sixteen! Yes. But nineteen--or, one may say, twenty. Twenty, next
month but one."
"My dear," said the abbess, stopping short, "you do not mean to say--"
"Indeed, madam," said Euphrosyne, very earnestly, "Afra will be twenty
in two months. I know her ago to a day, and--"
"And you have been speaking of Mademoiselle Raymond all this time!
Well, well--"
"And you were thinking of me, I do believe. Oh, madam, how could you!
Why, I never saw anybody."
"I was wondering how it could be," said the abbess, striving to conceal
her amusement and satisfaction. "I was surprised that you should have
seen any one yet; and I was going to give you a lecture about
half-confidences with Father Gabriel."
"And I could not conceive what Father Gabriel had to do with Afra's
affairs, or how you came to know anything about it. I have let it out
|