"Well said! well spoken! with good emphasis and proper action.

Forrest himself could scarce have done it better!"

Such was the exclamation of Mr. Clifford, who entered the room

at this moment. His mock applause was accompanied by a clamorous

clapping of his hands. I felt my cheeks burn, and my blood boil.

The truth is, I was not free from the consciousness that I had

suffered some of the grandiloquent to appear in my manner while

speaking the sentence which had provoked the ridicule of my uncle.

The sarcasm acquired increase of sting in consequence of its being

partially well-merited. I replied with some little show of temper,

which the imploring glances of Julia did not altogether persuade

me to suppress. The "blind heart" was growing stronger within

me, from the increasing conviction of my own independence. In this

sort of mimic warfare the day passed off as usual. I attended the

family to church in the afternoon, took tea, and spent the evening

with them--content to suffer the "stings and arrows"--however

outrageous, of my exemplary and Christian aunt and uncle, if permitted

to enjoy the presence and occasional smiles of the true angel,

whose influence could still temper my feelings into a humane and

patient toleration of influences which they yet burned to trample

under foot.




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