I went from room to room, seeing little to interest me. My zeal oozed away for exploration, and when I entered my chamber I could have said, "This spot is the summary of my wants, for it contains me." I must be my own society, and as my society was not agreeable, the more circumscribed it was, the better I could endure it. What a dreary prospect! The past was vital, the present dead! Life in Surrey must be dull. How could I forget or enjoy? I put the curtains down, and told Temperance, who was wandering about, not to call me to dinner. I determined, if possible, to surpass my dullness by indulgence. But underneath it all I could not deny that there was a specter, whose aimless movements kept me from stagnating. I determined to drag it up and face it. "Come," I called, "and stand before me; we will reason together." It uncovered, and asked: "Do you feel remorse and repentance?" "Neither!" "Why suffer then?" "I do not know why." "You confess ignorance. Can you confess that you are selfish, self-seeking--devilish?" "Are you my devil?" No answer. "Am I cowardly, or a liar?" It laughed, a faint, sarcastic laugh. "At all events," I continued, "are not my actions better than my thoughts?" "Which makes the sinner, and which the saint?" "Can I decide?" "Why not?" "My teachers and myself are so far apart! I have found a counterpart; but, specter, you were born of the union." My head was buried in my arms; but I heard a voice at my elbow--a shrill, scornful voice it was. "Are you coming down to tea, then?" Looking up, I saw Fanny. "Tea-time so soon?" "Yes, it is. You think nothing of time; have nothing to do, I suppose." And she clasped her hands over her apron--hands so small and thin that they looked like those of an old woman. Her hair was light and scanty, her complexion sallow, and her eyes a palish gray; but her features were delicate and pretty. She seemed to understand my thoughts. "You think I am stunted, don't you?" "You are not large to my eye." "Suppose you had been fed mostly on Indian meal, with a herring or a piece of salted pork for a relish, and clams or tautog for a luxury, as I have been, would you be as tall and as grand-looking as you are now? And would you be covering up your face, making believe worry?" "May be not. You may tell mother that I am coming." "I shall not say 'Miss Morgeson,' but 'Cassandra.' 'Cassandra Morgeson,' if I like." "Call me what you please, only tone down that voice of yours; it is sharper than the east wind." I heard her beating a tattoo on Veronica's door next. She had been taught to be ceremonious with her, at least. No reply was made, and she came to my door again. "I expect Miss Veronica has gone to see poor folks; it is a way _she_ has," and spitefully closed it.