st be
charitable and forgiving. Remember, Mr. Congreve is old and very
peculiar; he always was, and one's peculiarities increase as they grow
older. You heard what I said about him this morning, and you see he must
be kind at heart, to have taken such a long journey, just for our
sakes."

Olive made no answer, and her mother sighed a little.

"In regard to the estrangement between him and papa, I think he went to
extremes, as hot passionate tempered people are apt to do; and yet, he
is not wholly at fault, for I grieve very much to say, that in the
quarrel between my father and Mr. Congreve, father was much to blame;
he did very wrong, and it was quite natural for Mr. Congreve to feel a
violent hatred for all his family, and to object to his nephew marrying
into it. That Mr. Congreve has many times repented his harsh treatment,
I know to a certainty; but he is proud, as well as hasty, and pride in
an old man is harder to battle with than in a young one. In speaking of
papa a few minutes ago down stairs, he could not restrain the tears. He
says he wrote that letter, and meant it, but that on the day he heard of
papa's death, he had another letter, and the required check ready to
send to him."

"I don't believe it!" interrupted Olive passionately. "If he did, he
wrote it after he heard, just so as to tell you so."

"Oh, my child!" exclaimed Mrs. Dering, sadly, "how your hasty,
distrustful spirit grieves me. You cannot conceive of the misery it will
cause you, when you are brought to face the world, where there is so
much to distrust, and so much that must be overlooked and blindly
believed in. Can't you allow for others, some of the pride, the wilful
temper and bitter hastiness that you know so well what it is to battle
against, when I tell you that the greatest point of difference between
your own and your great-uncle's disposition, is, that he is as hasty one
way as you are the other; can't you be more charitable to him?"

"Oh, mama! _I_, like _him_?" cried Olive.

"Yes, dear, except that when you are once angry or hurt, you nurse your
pride, and repel every advance towards a reconciliation. Mr. Congreve is
more generous; if he really sees he is wrong, he is as impulsive to mend
as he was passionate to break. He is bitter and distrustful from a long
and often sad and disappointed struggle with the world; you are bitter
and distrustful--for what, my dear child, I never could imagine, for we
all love you most tende