Washington Square

Catherine, meanwhile, had made a discovery of a very different sort; it had become vivid to her that there was a great excitement in trying to be a good daughter.  She had an entirely new feeling, which may be described as a state of expectant suspense about her own actions.  She watched herself as she would have watched another person, and wondered what she would do.  It was as if this other person, who was both herself and not herself, had suddenly sprung into being, inspiring her with a natural curiosity as to the performance of untested functions.

“I am glad I have such a good daughter,” said her father, kissing her, after the lapse of several days.

“I am trying to be good,” she answered, turning away, with a conscience not altogether clear.

“If there is anything you would like to say to me, you know you must not hesitate.  You needn’t feel obliged to be so quiet.  I shouldn’t care that Mr. Townsend should be a frequent topic of conversation, but whenever you have anything particular to say about him I shall be very glad to hear it.”

“Thank you,” said Catherine; “I have nothing particular at present.”