"I see you and St. John have been quarrelling，Jane," said Diana，"during your walk on the moor. But go after him; he is now lingering in the passage expecting you- he will make it up."

I have not much pride under such circumstances: I would always rather be happy than dignified; and I ran after him- he stood at the foot of the stairs.

"Good-night，St. John," said I.

"Good-night，Jane," he replied calmly.

"Then shake hands," I added.

What a cold，loose touch he impressed on my fingers! He was deeply displeased by what had occurred that day; cordiality would not warm，nor tears move him. No happy reconciliation was to be had with him- no cheering smile or generous word: but still the Christian was patient and placid; and when I asked him if he forgave me，he answered that he was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation; that he had nothing to forgive，not having been offended.

And with that answer he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down.