"I love the things she loved," said Priscilla. "Hers must have been a most beautiful nature." Then she added fervently, "It was very lucky for her that she died." "Why do you say that?" said Mr Manchuri. "Lucky for her? Well, perhaps so, for God and the angels and the Gardens of Heaven must be the very best company and place for one like my Esther; but nevertheless, she would have had a good time down here." "No, she wouldn't," said Priscilla stoutly. "The world is not made for people like her." "Then _you_ don't find the world a good place?" said Mr Manchuri, speaking in an interested voice. Priscilla took a long time before she replied. Then she said very gravely: "I don't find the world a good place--I mean the people in it; and I want to say something"--her voice broke and changed--"I _must_ say something; please let me." "Of course you shall, my dear Priscilla. My dear girl, don't agitate yourself; say anything you like." "You have been so kind comparing me to your child--to your beautiful child," said Priscilla. "But I must undeceive you. Although I love the mountains and the things of nature, and although I cry in my heart for goodness, and although I am the same age as your Esther was when she went away to God, I am not a bit like her, for I am not good. I am-- wicked." Mr Manchuri was startled at this statement, which he took to be the exaggeration of a young and sensitive girl. "You must not be too introspective," he said after a pause. "That is very bad for all young things. Esther was not. She had a beautiful belief in God, and in goodness, and in joy. She was never, never discontented--never once. If you are not like her in that, you must try to grow like her. I tell you what; you interest me tremendously. You shall come to see me in London, and I will show you Esther's portrait." "I can't come," said Priscilla. "You talk to me out of your kind, very kind heart; but you don't know. I am not a good girl. I have done something far and away beyond the ordinary bad things that girls do, and I cannot possibly come to you under false colours. If I could, I would be friendly with worldly people, but I am not in touch with them; and good people I can have nothing to do with. So I must stand alone. I shall never see your Esther; I know that; but thank you all the same for telling me about her; and--and--I shall never forget the picture you have given me of her most lovely character." Mr Manchuri was considerably startled at Priscilla's words, and in some extraordinary way, as she spoke, the image of Annie Brooke when she looked at him with that crafty expression in her eyes returned to him, and he said to himself: