The evening passed unpleasantly, for Madeline's mortification and self-reproach were too deep to be easily forgotten; she had exposed herself in the presence of so many witnesses, had given way to an unchristian burst of temper, publicly wounded a cousin whom she should have tried to benefit, and, she was sure, must have lost the respect of Roland Bruce. Roland's quiet dignity of manner had won for him golden opinions, and Harry had failed again in humbling the man whom he both feared and hated. Lavinia was again disappointed; for the company generally had treated the one with marked distinction, the other with entire forgetfulness and contempt. Late in the afternoon of the next day Roland called; Madeline was ready, but shy, reserved, abashed. They walked almost in silence until they reached the Battery; then seating themselves under the shade, Roland addressed the mortified girl, "What is the matter, Madeline? you seem so silent; are you displeased with me?" "No; not with you, but with myself; I thought that I had learned to control my impulsive temper, Roland; but I find that I have made no progress. I own that I was all wrong yesterday, but I have done the same before; and on the first provocation, I am tempted, and overcome again." "Your motive, Madeline, was noble; and, as Miss Austin was not present to defend herself, it was generous in you to be her champion." Madeline looked her thanks to Roland, for she saw how he was trying to reconcile her to herself, and understood the delicacy with which he approached the subject. "For myself, Madeline," and he spoke in lower tones, "you were always the same noble, frank, and generous friend; but you will allow me also the privilege of a friend; you know I have always laid a gentle rein upon your neck, Madeline; and you formerly yielded to the friendly check; may I still do the same?" "Say all that you think, Roland, fully, freely, as you used to do; only don't excuse me." "I wish that you would learn to restrain those open expressions of your feelings; they make you enemies, and they are not in accordance with the spirit of the Gospel." "I know it, Roland; I am so glad that you do not praise me; I should not respect you if you did; but how am I to become meek and lowly? I, passionate! proud! wilful Madeline? I want to be humble, I long to be holy." Roland took the little hand gently, kindly, as of old, and held it between his own; bending his eyes upon the ground, he repeated, "'Come, learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest unto your soul.'" "How, Roland, can I learn of Jesus?" "Sit at his feet every day, Madeline; study his holy character, pray for his blessed spirit; you have trusted him with the justification of the immortal soul; trust him also in the work of sanctification; he is the author of both; of the former by himself; of the latter by his spirit." She bowed her head, and wept.