“And cross and cruel,” I added; but Helen Burns would not admit my addition:  she kept silence.

“Is Miss Temple as severe to you as Miss Scatcherd?”

At the utterance of Miss Temple’s name, a soft smile flitted over her grave face.

“Miss Temple is full of goodness; it pains her to be severe to any one, even the worst in the school:  she sees my errors, and tells me of them gently; and, if I do anything worthy of praise, she gives me my meed liberally.  One strong proof of my wretchedly defective nature is, that even her expostulations, so mild, so rational, have not influence to cure me of my faults; and even her praise, though I value it most highly, cannot stimulate me to continued care and foresight.”

“That is curious,” said I, “it is so easy to be careful.”

“For you I have no doubt it is.  I observed you in your class this morning, and saw you were closely attentive:  your thoughts never seemed to wander while Miss Miller explained the lesson and questioned you.  Now, mine continually rove away; when I should be listening to Miss Scatcherd, and collecting all she says with assiduity, often I lose the very sound of her voice; I fall into a sort of dream.  Sometimes I think I am in Northumberland, and that the noises I hear round me are the bubbling of a little brook which runs through Deepden, near our house; —­ then, when it comes to my turn to reply, I have to be awakened; and having heard nothing of what was read for listening to the visionary brook, I have no answer ready.”

“Yet how well you replied this afternoon.”

“It was mere chance; the subject on which we had been reading had interested me.  This afternoon, instead of dreaming of Deepden, I was wondering how a man who wished to do right could act so unjustly and unwisely as Charles the First sometimes did; and I thought what a pity it was that, with his integrity and conscientiousness, he could see no farther than the prerogatives of the crown.  If he had but been able to look to a distance, and see how what they call the spirit of the age was tending!  Still, I like Charles —­ I respect him —­ I pity him, poor murdered king!  Yes, his enemies were the worst:  they shed blood they had no right to shed.  How dared they kill him!”

Helen was talking to herself now:  she had forgotten I could not very well understand her —­ that I was ignorant, or nearly so, of the subject she discussed.  I recalled her to my level.

“And when Miss Temple teaches you, do your thoughts wander then?”

“No, certainly, not often; because Miss Temple has generally something to say which is newer than my own reflections; her language is singularly agreeable to me, and the information she communicates is often just what I wished to gain.”

“Well, then, with Miss Temple you are good?”

“Yes, in a passive way:  I make no effort; I follow as inclination guides me.  There is no merit in such goodness.”