ried to think the best of
it. It seems to me still no, not contemptible at all--but selfishness
is the groundwork of it; a brilliant selfishness, I admit. I see that
it shows its best feature, but is it the nobler for that? I think, and
I must think, that excellence is a point to be reached only by
unselfishness, and that usefulness is the test of excellence."

"Before there has been any trial of her?" asked Merthyr. "Have you not
been a little too eager to put the test to her?"

Georgiana reluctantly consented to have her argument attached to a
single person. "She is not a child, Merthyr."

"Ay; but she should bethought one."

"I confess I am utterly at sea," Georgiana sighed. "Will you at least
allow that sordid selfishness does less mischief than this 'passion' you
admire so much?"

"I will allow that she may do herself more mischief than if she had the
opposite vice of avarice--anything you will, of that complexion."

"And why should she be regarded as a child?" asked Georgiana piteously.

"Because, if she has outnumbered the years of a child, she is no further
advanced than a child, owing to what she has to get rid of. She is
overburdened with sensations that set her head on fire. Her solid, firm,
and gentle heart keeps her balanced, so long as there is no one playing
on it. That a fool should be doing so, is scarcely her fault."

Georgiana murmured to herself, "He is not a fool." She said, "I do see
a certain truth in what you say, dear Merthyr. But I have been
disappointed in her. I have taken her among my poor. She listens to
their tales, without sympathy. I took her into a sick-room. She stood
by a dying bed like a statue. Her remark when we came into the air was,
'Death seems easy, if it were not so stifling!' Herself always! herself
the centre of what she sees and feels! And again, she has no active
desire to do good to any mortal thing. A passive wish that everybody
should be happy, I know she has. Few have not. She would give money if
she had it. But this is among the mysteries of Providence to me, that
one no indifferent to others should be gifted with so inexplicable a
power of attraction."

Merthyr put this case to her: "Suppose you saw any of the poor souls
you wait on lying sick with fever, would it be just to describe the
character of one so situated as fretful, ungrateful, of rambling tongue,
poor in health, and generally of loose condition of mind?"

"There, again, is that foreign doctrin