passion raged
on in his soul.

"Now, you hear all this; do not forget it; and have done with your silly
obstinacy as soon as possible, for I will be worried no longer with it;"
and roughly pushing away the slight hand which was laid upon his arm,
Mr. Greylston stalked out of the house.

For a moment, Margaret stood where her brother had left her, just in the
centre of the floor. Her cheeks were very white, but quickly a crimson
flush came over them, and her eyes filled with tears; then she sat
down upon the white chintz-covered settle, and hiding her face in the
pillows, wept violently for a long time.

"I have consulted Margaret's will always; in many things I have given
up to it, but here, where reason is so fully on my side, I will go on.
I have no patience with her weak stubbornness, no patience with her
presumption in forbidding my servants to do as I have told them; such
measures I will never allow in my house;" and John Greylston, in his
angry musings, struck his cane smartly against a tall crimson dahlia,
which grew in the grass-plat. It fell quivering across his path, but he
walked on, never heeding what he had done. There was a faint sense of
shame rising in his heart, a feeble conviction of having been himself
to blame; but just then they seemed only to fan and increase his keen
indignation. Yet in the midst of his anger, John Greylston had the
delicate consideration for his sister and himself to repeat to the men
the command she had given them.

"Do as Miss Greylston bade you; let the trees stand until further
orders." But pride prompted this, for he said to himself, "If Margaret
and I keep at this childish work of unsaying each other's commands, that
sharp old fellow, Reuben, will suspect that we have quarrelled."

Mr. Greylston's wrath did not abate; and when he came home at
dinner-time, and found the table so nicely set, and no one but the
little servant to wait upon him, Margaret away, shut up with a bad
headache, in her own room, he somehow felt relieved,--just then he did
not want to see her. But when eventide came, and he sat down to supper,
and missed again his sister's calm and pleasant face, a half-regretful
feeling stole over him, and he grew lonely, for John Greylston's heart
was the home of every kindly affection. He loved Margaret dearly. Still,
pride and anger kept him aloof from her; still his soul was full of
harsh, unforgiving thoughts. And Margaret Greylston, as she lay with a
throb