Alice sank back, sobbing—sobbing, as though her heart would burst—then suddenly she clasped his knees, exclaiming wildly: “Can we hate each other—you and I who have lived so many years together? Can we hate each other—you and I, who love our only child, our dear Elsie, so much? Make friends with me! Let us understand each other! Let us be candid with each other! Let us forbear each other! I know that you deeply regret the failure of your favorite plan to unite these estates. I know it; I am sorry for it; sorry that I have been constrained to have a hand in it. But, oh, General Garnet, I, too, you know, was once—long years ago—bitterly disappointed—terribly disappointed! But it is all over now; it has all been over many years ago! And that is what I have often wanted to tell you, when I saw by the cold, dark shadow on your brow that you thought yourself unloved. But I never could approach you near enough to tell you—to tell you that if you would look into my heart you would see it filled with the love of God, of my husband, and my child. Oh, Aaron! let us forget all that estranged us in the dreary past, and see if we cannot live a better and happier life in the future! At least we can be kind, candid, forbearing with each other. Think how long we may have to travel the rough road of mortal life side by side! We are not old—you and I, Aaron! You are not forty-five, and I am much younger. People healthful as we are usually live to the age of eighty and beyond it. Think how many years we may have to live together! Shall we, through all these years, be unloving, cold, estranged, suspicious, uncharitable each to the other? Think how many years of our life we have already wasted in coolness, strangeness, misunderstandings! Think how many yet remain! Shall we not live the rest in mutual forbearance, candor, benevolence? Make friends with me. Let us comprehend each other. Dear Aaron, I have opened my heart to you; give me your confidence!” She ceased, half turned to gaze up in his face; his head was quite averted—had he relented? She thought so. She suddenly, impulsively arose, threw her arms around his neck, and bent her lips to kiss him, repeating softly: “Dearest Aaron, make friends with me. Give me your confidence.” He sprang up, and with one dash of his strong arm threw her from him, exclaiming: “Off, traitress! Off, serpent! Viper!” She tottered and fell back among the silken cushions of an old-fashioned low lounge, exhausted, pale, and shuddering. He gazed at her with flashing eyes and darkening brow, and white and writhen lips, and the long restrained passion broke out in a torrent of invective. Shaking his clenched fist at her, he exclaimed: