life after all?"

I do not know what I answered her. I have a dim recollection that I
burst into some extravagant eulogium or other, for she colored to her
temples and called me a foolish child, and begged me seriously never
to say such things to her again.

"I do not deserve all that, Esther, but you are too young to judge
dispassionately; you must recollect that I have fewer temptations
than other people. If I were strong and well I might be worldly too."

"No, never," I answered indignantly; "you would always be better
than other people, Miss Ruth--you and Carrie--oh, why are you both so
good?" with a despairing inflection in my voice. "How you must both
look down on me."

"I know some one who is good, too," returned Miss Ruth, stroking my
hair. "I know a brave girl who works hard and wears herself out in
loving service, who is often tired and never complains, who thinks
little of herself, and yet who does much to brighten other lives, and
I think you know her too, Esther?" But I would not let her go on; it
was scant goodness to love her, and Allan, and Dot. How could any one
do otherwise? And what merit could there be in that?

But though I disclaimed her praise, I was inwardly rejoiced that she
should think such things of me, and should judge me worthy of her
confidence. She was treating me as though I were her equal and
friend, and, to do her justice the idea of my being a governess never
seemed to enter into hers or Mr. Lucas' head.