“There, is no danger for _me_, madam,” answered she, “for the people I so much admire are quite out of my reach. I hardly ever even see them; and perhaps it may so happen I may see them no more!” “The people?” said Cecilia, smiling, “are there, then, many you so much distinguish?” “Oh no indeed!” cried she, eagerly, “there is only one! there _can_ be--I mean there are only a few--” she checked herself, and stopt. “Whoever you admire,” cried Cecilia, “your admiration cannot but honour: yet indulge it not too far, lest it should wander from your heart to your peace, and make you wretched for life.” “Ah madam!--I see you know who is the particular person I was thinking of! but indeed you are quite mistaken if you suppose any thing bad of me!” “Bad of you!” cried Cecilia, embracing her, “I scarce think so well of any one!” “But I mean, madam, if you think I forget he is so much above me. But indeed I never do; for I only admire him for his goodness to my brother, and never think of him at all, but just by way of comparing him, sometimes, to the other people that I see, because he makes me hate them so, that I wish I was never to see them again.” “His acquaintance, then,” said Cecilia, “has done you but an ill office, and happy it would be for you could you forget you had ever made it.” “O, I shall never do that! for the more I think of him, the more I am out of humour with every body else! O Miss Beverley! we have a sad acquaintance indeed! I'm sure I don't wonder my brother was so ashamed of them. They are all so rude, and so free, and put one so out of countenance,--O how different is this person you are thinking of! he would not distress anybody, or make one ashamed for all the world! _You_ only are like him! always gentle, always obliging!--sometimes I think you must be his sister--once, too, I heard--but that was contradicted.” A deep sigh escaped Cecilia at this speech; she guessed too well what she might have heard, and she knew too well how it might be contradicted. “Surely, _you_ cannot be unhappy, Miss Beverley!” said Henrietta, with a look of mingled surprise and concern. “I have much, I own,” cried Cecilia, assuming more chearfulness, “to be thankful for, and I endeavour not to forget it.” “O how often do I think,” cried Henrietta, “that you, madam, are the happiest person in the world! with every thing at your own disposal,--with every body in love with you, with all the money that you can wish for, and so much sweetness that nobody can envy you it! with power to keep just what company you please, and every body proud to be one of the number!--Oh if I could chuse who I would be, I should sooner say Miss Beverley than any princess in the world!” Ah, thought Cecilia, if such is my situation,--how cruel that by one dreadful blow all its happiness should be thrown away!