“You cannot imagine that I come to accuse you, dear Mrs. Somers; I do not attempt even to justify myself: I am convinced that, if you are displeased, it cannot be without reason.” “But still you do not tell me how I have shown this violent displeasure: I have not, to the best of my recollection, said an angry or a hasty word.” “No; but when we love people, we know when they are offended, without their saying a hasty word--your manner has been so different towards me these three days past.” “My manner is very unfortunate. It is impossible always to keep a guard over our manners: it is sufficient, I think, to guard our words.” “Pray do not guard either with me,” said Emilie; “for I would a thousand times rather that a friend should say or look the most angry things, than that she should conceal from me what she thought; for then, you know, I might displease her continually without knowing it, and perhaps lose her esteem and affection irretrievably, before I was aware of my danger--and with _you_--with you, to whom we owe so much!” Touched by the feeling manner in which Emilie spoke, and by the artless expression of her countenance, Mrs. Somers’ anger vanished, and she exclaimed, “I have been to blame--I ask your pardon, Emilie--I have been much to blame--I have been very unjust--very ill-humoured--I see I was quite wrong--I see that I was quite mistaken in what I imagined.” “And what did you imagine?” said Emilie. “_That_ you must excuse me from telling,” said Mrs. Somers; “I am too much ashamed of it--too much ashamed of myself. Besides, it was a sort of thing that I could not well explain, if I were to set about it; in short, it was the silliest trifle in the world: but I assure you that if I had not loved you very much, I should not have been so foolishly angry. You must forgive these little infirmities of temper--you know my heart is as it should be.” Emilie embraced Mrs. Somers affectionately; and, in her joy at this reconciliation, and in the delight she felt at being relieved from the uneasiness which she had suffered for three days, loved her friend the better for this quarrel: she quite forgot the pain in the pleasure of the reconciliation; and thought that, even if Mrs. Somers had been in the wrong, the candour with which she acknowledged it more than made amends for the error. “You must forgive these little infirmities of temper--you know my heart is as it should be.” Emilie repeated these words, and said to herself, “Forgive them! yes, surely; I should be the most ungrateful of human beings if I did otherwise.” Without being the most ungrateful of human beings, Emilie, however, found it very difficult to keep her resolution.