and Marston was official only--that they did
not unbend to each other in the least. He was grieved to see it, for he
knew the good qualities of both, and he had a high respect for them.

"This must not be," said he to himself, as he walked thoughtfully
homeward. "They are making themselves unhappy, and preventing a concert
of useful efforts for good in society, and all for nothing. I will try
again to reconcile them; perhaps I may be more successful than before."

So, on the next day, the old gentleman made it his business to call
upon Arnest, who expressed great pleasure in meeting him.

"I noticed," said Mr. Wellford, after he had conversed some time, and
finally introduced the subject of the meeting on the previous evening,
"that your intercourse with the secretary was exceedingly formal; in
fact, hardly courteous."

"I don't like Marston, as you are very well aware," replied Arnest.

"In which feeling you stand nearly alone, friend Arnest. Mr. Marston is
highly esteemed by all who know him."

"All don't know him as I do."

"Perhaps others know him better than you do; there may lie the
difference."

"If a man knocks me down, I know the weight of his arm much better than
those who have never felt it."

"Still nursing your anger, still harbouring unkind thoughts! Forgive
and forget, my friend--forgive and forget; no longer let the sun go
down upon your wrath."

"I can forgive, Mr. Wellford--I do forgive; for Heaven knows I wish him
no harm; but I cannot forget: that is asking too much."

"You do not forget, because you will not forgive," replied the old
gentleman. "Forgive, and you will soon forget. I am sure you will both
be happier in forgetting than you can be in remembering the past."

But Arnest shook his head, remarking, as he so--"I would rather let
things remain as they are. At least, I cannot stoop to any humiliating
overtures for a reconciliation. When Marston outraged my feelings so
wantonly, I wrote him a pretty warm expression of my sentiments in
regard to his conduct. This gave him mortal offence. I do not now
remember what I wrote, but nothing, certainly, to have prevented his
coming forward and apologizing for his conduct; but he did not choose
to do this, and there the matter rests. I cannot recall the angry
rebuke I gave him, for it was no doubt just."

"A man who writes a letter in a passion, and afterwards forgets what he
has written," said Mr. Wellford, "may be sure that he has said