"Afraid of Mr. Logan! what nonsense, Catherina _mia_. Why a child, the very poorest and most miserable child, would slip its little hand in his fearlessly, and be soothed and comforted by the mere contact." "A child, ah, yes; but I am a woman," returned Cathy, almost inaudibly. "You are a girl, and so am I, which means we are faulty, imperfect creatures, full of fads and fancies, and brimful of mischief I dare say. Do you think a man like Mr. Logan, who knows human nature, expects us to be perfection?" "No; but he expects us to grow up to him, and live and breathe in his atmosphere. But I can't, Queenie; I have tried, I have tried so hard to be good, but it stifles me; I feel just as I do when I am teaching the children in one of those close cottages, as though I must rush out and get some air, or I shall be suffocated." "Why do you undervalue yourself so?" returned her friend, looking at her affectionately. "You have got into the habit; it is such a pity, and it spoils you so. I think you good, and you are good." But Cathy only pushed the dark locks back from her face, and looked disconsolate. "What constitutes goodness, I wonder?" continued Queenie, reflectively. "We are simple every-day folk; we cannot all be saints. In every age there will be giants in the land. You and I, dear old Cath, must be content with being 'the little ones.' "Ah, you are nearer his standard than I," in a low, bitter voice. "It must be a painfully low one then. For shame, when you know all my faults as well as you know your own. I for one will always believe in you. You have such a great heart, Cathy; you would lay down your life for those you love." "You are right there." "Is unselfishness so common a virtue in this world that one can afford to despise it? How often have I admired your thorough honesty, your hatred of anything crooked and mean. There is nothing little about you, that is why I care for you so much." "All pagan virtues," with a faint smile. "Cathy, your self-depreciation is incorrigible." "I tell you what I mean to do," rousing herself, but speaking in the same suppressed voice. "I want to go away from here; this little corner of the world stifles me. I get so tired of it all, the trying to be good and keep down my restlessness, I mean. I have so few home duties; Langley and Garth do not really want me. I should not be much missed." "You would leave me and Emmie!" incredulously. "Poor old Madam Dignity. It does seem hard, I know. Never mind, I should come back to you all the better and the happier for having worked off my superfluous steam. One must have a safety-valve somewhere." "But, Cathy, you are surely not serious. I cannot see any reason for this absurd restlessness; you must throw it off, fight against it, as other women do."