pretty with her eyes, and says, "Of course she is!" When
I tell her that this is right down bad for Lady So-and-so, it seems as
if she wouldn't believe me, and the only answer she will make is that
Lady
So-and-so is "extremely nice." I don't believe she is nice at all; if
she were
nice, she wouldn't have such
ideas as
that. I tell Miss Vane that at Bangor we think such ideas vulgar; but
then she looks as though she had never heard of Bangor. I often want to
shake her, though she _is_ so sweet. If she isn't angry with the people
who make her feel that way, I am angry for her. I am angry with her
brother too, for she
is evidently very much afraid of him, and this gives me some further
insight into the subject. She thinks everything of her brother, and
thinks it natural that she should be afraid of him, not
only physically (for this
_is_ natural, as he is enormously tall and strong, and has very
big fists), but morally and intellectually. She seems unable, however,
to take in any argument, and she makes me realise what I have often
heard--that if you are timid nothing will reason you
out of it. Mr. Vane, also
(the brother), seems to have the same prejudices, and when I tell him,
as I often think it right to
do, that his sister is not his
subordinate, even if she does think so, but
his equal, and, perhaps in some respects his superior, and that if my
brother, in Bangor, were to treat me
as he treates this poor young girl, who has not spirit enough to see the
question in its true light, there would be an indignation, meeting of
the citizens to protest against such an outrage to
the
