At this instant, Mrs. Villars came out to enjoy the serenity of the evening, and, passing by the arbour where Cecilia lay, she started. Cecilia rose hastily. “Who is there?” said Mrs. Villars. “It is I, madam.” “And who is _I_?” “Cecilia.” “Why, what keeps you here, my dear? Where are your companions? This is, perhaps, one of the happiest days of your life.” “Oh, no, madam,” said Cecilia, hardly able to repress her tears. “Why, my dear, what is the matter?” Cecilia hesitated. “Speak, my dear. You know that when I ask you to tell me anything as your friend, I never punish you as your governess; therefore you need not be afraid to tell me what is the matter.” “No, madam, I am not afraid, but ashamed. You asked me why I was not with my companions. Why, madam, because they have all left me, and—” “And what, my dear?” “And I see that they all dislike me; and yet I don’t know why they should, for I take as much pains to please as any of them. All my masters seem satisfied with me; and you yourself, madam, were pleased this very morning to give me this bracelet; and I am sure you would not have given it to anyone who did not deserve it.” “Certainly not,” said Mrs. Villars. “You well deserve it for your application—for your successful application. The prize was for the most assiduous, not for the most amiable.” “Then, if it had been for the most amiable, it would not have been for me?” Mrs. Villars, smiling,—“Why, what do you think yourself, Cecilia? You are better able to judge than I am. I can determine whether or no you apply to what I give you to learn; whether you attend to what I desire you to do, and avoid what I desire you not to do. I know that I like you as a pupil, but I cannot know that I should like you as a companion, unless I were your companion. Therefore I must judge of what I should do, by seeing what others do in the same circumstances.” “Oh, pray don’t, madam! for then you would not love me either. And yet I think you would love me; for I hope that I am as ready to oblige, and as good-natured as—” “Yes, Cecilia, I don’t doubt but that you would be very good natured to me; but I’m afraid that I should not like you unless you were good-tempered, too.” “But, madam, by good-natured I mean good-tempered—it’s all the same thing.” “No, indeed, I understand by them two very different things. You are good-natured, Cecilia; for you are desirous to oblige and serve your companions—to gain them praise, and save them from blame—to give them pleasure, and relieve them from pain; but Leonora is good-tempered, for she can bear with their foibles, and acknowledge her own. Without disputing about the right, she sometimes yields to those who are in the wrong. In short, her temper is perfectly good; for it can bear and forbear.” “I wish that mine could!” said Cecilia, sighing.