She fanned those flames of envy and
jealousy which a wise, true word from a third will often quench forever;
by a glance, or a seemingly light reply, she planted the seeds of
dissension, till there was scarce a peaceful affection, or sincere
intimacy in the circle where she lived, and could not but rule, for she
was one whose nature was to that of the others as fire to clay.
It was at this time that I came to the school, and first saw Mariana. Me
she charmed at once, for I was a sentimental child, who, in my early ill
health, had been indulged in reading novels, till I had no eyes for the
common greens and browns of life. The heroine of one of these, "The
Bandit's Bride," I immediately saw in Mariana. Surely the Bandit's Bride
had just such hair, and such strange, lively ways, and such a sudden
flash of the eye. The Bandit's Bride, too, was born to be
"misunderstood" by all but her lover. But Mariana, I was determined,
should be more fortunate, for, until her lover appeared, I myself would
be the wise and delicate being who could understand her.
It was not, however, easy to approach her for this purpose. Did I offer
to run and fetch her handkerchief, she was obliged to go to her room,
and would rather do it herself. She did not like to have people turn
over for her the leaves of the music book as she played. Did I approach
my stool to her feet, she moved away, as if to give me room. The bunch
of wild flowers which I timidly laid beside her plate was left there.
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