"No, Ma’am, I do not mean to say that. I have been very much in fault, very often — I know that. I get very angry and vexed, and sometimes I say nothing, but sometimes I get out of all patience and say things I ought not. I did so to-day; but it is so very hard to keep still when I am in such a passion, and now I have got to feel so towards Aunt Fortune that I don't like the sight of her; I hate the very look of her bonnet hanging up on the wall. I know it isn't right; and it makes me miserable; and I can't help it, for I grow worse and worse every day — and what shall I do?" Ellen's tears came faster than her words. "Ellen, my child," said Alice, after a while, "There is but one way. You know what I said to you yesterday?" "I know it; but, dear Miss Alice, in my reading this morning I came to that verse that speaks about not being forgiven if we do not forgive others; and oh! how it troubles me! for I can't feel that I forgive Aunt Fortune; I feel vexed whenever the thought of her comes into my head; and how can I behave right to her while I feel so?" "You are right there, my dear; you cannot, indeed. The heart must be set right before the life can be." "But what shall I do to set it right?" "Pray." "Dear Miss Alice, I have been praying all this morning that I might forgive Aunt Fortune, and yet I cannot do it." "Pray still, my dear," said Alice, pressing her closer in her arms — "pray still; if you are in earnest, the answer will come. But there is something else you can do, and must do, Ellen, besides praying, or praying may be in vain." "What do you mean, Miss Alice?" "You acknowledge yourself in fault; have you made all the amends you can? Have you, as soon as you have seen yourself in the wrong, gone to your aunt Fortune and acknowledged it, and humbly asked her pardon?" Ellen answered "No" in a low voice. "Then, my child, your duty is plain before you. The next thing after doing wrong is to make all the amends in your power; confess your fault, and ask forgiveness, both of God and man. Pride struggles against it — I see yours does; but, my child, 'God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble.' " Ellen burst into tears, and cried heartily. "Mind your own wrong doings, my child, and you will not be half so disposed to quarrel with those of other people. But, Ellen, dear, if you will not humble yourself to this, you must not count upon an answer to your prayer. 'If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee' — what then? — 'Leave there thy gift before the altar; go first and be reconciled to thy brother, and then come.' " "But it is so hard to forgive!" sobbed Ellen. "Hard? Yes, it is hard when our hearts are so. But there is little love to Christ, and no just sense of his love to us, in the heart that finds it hard. Pride and selfishness make it hard; the heart full of love to the dear Saviour cannot lay up offences against itself."