“I think one is often horribly mistaken in people,” said Frithiof moodily.
“Yes; sometimes one gets unfairly prejudiced, perhaps, by a mere likeness to another person whom one dislikes. Oh, I quite allow that this sort of instinct is not infallible.”
“You are much more liable to think too well of people than not well enough,” said Frithiof. “You are a woman and have seen but little of the world. Wait till you have been utterly deceived in some one, and then your eyes will be opened, and you will see that most people are at heart mean and selfish and contemptible.”
“But there is one thing that opens one’s eyes to see what is good in people,” said Cecil. “You can’t love all humanity and yet think them mean and contemptible, you soon see that they are worth a great deal.”
“It is as you said just now,” said Frithiof, after a minute’s silence, “we look at things differently. You look at the world out of charitable eyes. I look at it seeing its baseness and despising it. Some day you will see that my view is correct; you will find that your kindly judgments are wrong. Perhaps I shall be the first to undeceive you, for you are utterly wrong about me. You think me good, but it is ten to one that I go to the bad altogether; after all, it would be the easiest way and the most amusing.”
He had gone on speaking recklessly, but Cecil felt much too keenly to be checked by any conventionality as to the duty of talking only of surface matters.
“You are unjust to the world, yourself included!” she exclaimed. “I believe that you have too much of the hardy Norseman about you ever to hanker after a life of ease and pleasure which must really ruin you.”
“That speech only shows that you have formed too high an estimate of our national character,” said Frithiof. “Perhaps you don’t know that the Norwegians are often drunkards?”
“Possibly; and so are the English; but, in spite of that, is not the real national character true and noble and full of a sense of duty? What I meant about you was that I think you do try to do the things you see to be right. I never thought you were perfect.”
“Then if I do the things that I see to be right I can only see a very little, that’s certain,” he said lightly.
“Exactly so,” she replied, unable to help laughing a little at his tone. “And I think that you have been too lazy to take the trouble to try and see more. However, that brings us round again to the things that bore you. Would you like to write at this table in the window? You will be quite quiet in here till dinner-time.”