oil painting from picture

views in which it has no power to sympathise: in short, as a man, he
would have wished to coerce me into obedience: it was only as a
sincere Christian he bore so patiently with my perversity, and allowed
so long a space for reflection and repentance.
That night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper to
forget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. I-
who, though I had no love, had much friendship for him- was hurt by
the marked omission: so much hurt that tears started to my eyes.
'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