I make no manner of doubt that you threw a very diamond of truth at me, though you see it hit me so directly in the face that it wasn't exactly appreciated, at first." "For my part, I don't see any use in such sort of talk," said Marie.
"I'm sure, if anybody does more for servants than we do, I'd like to know who; and it don't do 'em a bit good,--not a particle,--they get worse and worse.

As to talking to them, or anything like that, I'm sure I have talked till I was tired and hoarse, telling them their duty, and all that; and I'm sure they can go to church when they like, though they don't understand a word of the sermon, more than so many pigs,--so it isn't of any great use for them to go, as I see; but they do go, and so they have every chance; but, as I said before, they are a degraded race, and always will be, and there isn't any help for them; you can't make anything of them, if you try.

You see, Cousin Ophelia, I've tried, and you haven't; I was born and bred among them, and I know." Miss Ophelia thought she had said enough, and therefore sat silent.

St.
Clare whistled a tune.
"St.Clare, I wish you wouldn't whistle," said Marie; "it makes my head worse." "I won't," said St.Clare.

"Is there anything else you wouldn't wish me to do ?" "I wish you _would_ have some kind of sympathy for my trials; you never have any feeling for me." "My dear accusing angel!" said St.Clare.
"It's provoking to be talked to in that way." "Then, how will you be talked to?
I'll talk to order,--any way you'll mention,--only to give satisfaction." A gay laugh from the court rang through the silken curtains of the verandah.