A Heart's Bitterness — page 85: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A HEART’S BITTERNESS. een handsome, you have one of those fascinating faces that has been at the bottom of most of the mischief that has been since the world was made.” , “Qh, please, you will make me vain!” “You might.as well know your power and possibilities, ang get some good out of your life.” ““T expect to get no good out of, my life but goodness, and for that one does not need to be vain,” said Violet, | softly. ‘And am I really telling you more than your glass ever did?” said Helen, with a sardonic smile on her turned-away face, as she looked at the red-shirted fisher-boy. ‘I can tell you more that Tread in you. The key to your whole life is your desire to be loved. You want every one to love you, and for yourself alone. You resent being loved for your fortune. It grieves you even that a dog, or a stray child, or a beggar, or a waif such as I am, should fail to love you. You desire to be loved by Lord Leigh, whose ca- pacity in that line is of the smallest, and you would grieve — to lose the love of that handsome young man who acts as your squire, now your lord is gone.” _“ What! Oh, how can you be so wicked?” cried Violet, rising. : — **Do not be angry,” said Helen, seizing her dress to draw her back. ‘‘I only meant friendly or brotherly love, of course. So you: would mourn if you lost the love of your poodle or the cat. Why so quick to take offense? Is it not true that you desire every face to light that looks at you—that all should joy at your coming and grieve at your oing ?” Violet looked down, blushing and resentful. * © You think that a great weakness,” she said, slowly. ‘No; it is lovely. If I had had more of that quality, I -might have been more beloved. Do not be angry at me. I~ want you to think well of me. Do not misjudge me. Let me tell you of myself. You think it was all mercenary am- ~ bition that drew me to Lord Leigh. You never imag- — ined that back of my avarice and ambition lay the thought of a good, warm, self-devoting mother, to be cared for in her old age—of a little sister, lovely as a fairy, to be educated and made happy, and saved from the drudgery of a life like mine. I wanted to be the Lady Bountiful to all — my poor relations and friends. I, who knew so well the oe GComichooks.co: