indolent, provoking,--put, without any sort of terms or
conditions, entirely into the hands of such people as the majority in
our world are; people who have neither consideration nor self-control,
who haven't even an enlightened regard to their own interest,--for
that's the case with the largest half of mankind. Of course, in a
community so organized, what can a man of honorable and humane feelings
do, but shut his eyes all he can, and harden his heart? I can't buy
every poor wretch I see. I can't turn knight-errant, and undertake to
redress every individual case of wrong in such a city as this. The most
I can do is to try and keep out of the way of it."

St. Clare's fine countenance was for a moment overcast; he said,

"Come, cousin, don't stand there looking like one of the Fates; you've
only seen a peep through the curtain,--a specimen of what is going
on, the world over, in some shape or other. If we are to be prying
and spying into all the dismals of life, we should have no heart to
anything. 'T is like looking too close into the details of Dinah's
kitchen;" and St. Clare lay back on the sofa, and busied himself with
his paper.

Miss Ophelia sat down, and pulled out her knitting-work, and sat there
grim with indignation. She knit and knit, but while she mused the fire
burned; at last she broke out--"I tell you, Augustine, I can't get over
things so, if you can. It's a perfect abomination for you to defend such
a system,--that's _my_ mind!"

"What now?" said St. Clare, looking up. "At it again, hey?"

"I say it's perfectly abominable for you to defend such a system!" said
Miss Ophelia, with increasing warmth.

"_I_ defend it, my dear lady? Who ever said I did defend it?" said St.
Clare.

"Of course, you defend it,--you all do,--all you Southerners. What do
you have slaves for, if you don't?"

"Are you such a sweet innocent as to suppose nobody in this world ever
does what they don't think is right? Don't you, or didn't you ever, do
anything that you did not think quite right?"

"If I do, I repent of it, I hope," said Miss Ophelia, rattling her
needles with energy.

"So do I," said St. Clare, peeling his orange; "I'm repenting of it all
the time."

"What do you keep on doing it for?"

"Didn't you ever keep on doing wrong, after you'd repented, my good
cousin?"

"Well, only when I've been very much tempted," said Miss Ophelia.

"Well, I'm very much tempted," said St. Clare; "that's just my
difficul