All these things were settled in my mind before my mother and I returned home from church on that memorable Sabbath, but not a word passed between us on the subject. I was silent out of consideration for my mother; she was silent out of the exquisite tenderness of her nature. Over and over again had she played the part of the Peacemaker between uncle Bryan and Jessie; but knowing uncle Bryan as she did, she felt that in this crisis she was powerless. The day passed quietly and unhappily. Jessie joined us as we passed the house of the Wests, and walked home with us; but during the whole of the day neither uncle Bryan nor she addressed each other, nor made any conciliatory movement towards each other. Once or twice she looked towards him, and the slightest look of kindness from him would, I knew, have brought her to his side. But although he was conscious of her gaze, he carefully avoided meeting it, and she, instinctively aware of his intention, looked towards him no more. It had been arranged that we should go to the Wests on this night; our visits there during the past fortnight had not been so frequent as usual; but as the time drew near, Jessie whispered to me that she intended to stop at home.
'I will run round,' she said, 'and tell Josey that I can't come; but you can go.'
'I shall do as you do, Jessie,' I said.
I thought afterwards that it was a great pity we stopped at home, for we were anything but lively company. Uncle Bryan might have been made of stone, so silent was he; Jessie rejected all my sympathising advances towards her; and even my mother was at a loss for words. I was curious about the 'good-night' between uncle Bryan and Jessie when bedtime was near; it occupied Jessie's thoughts also; but he settled it by lighting his candle and going to bed without bidding any one of us good-night. It was evident from this and from uncle Bryan's behaviour during the week that followed that all harmonious relations between him and Jessie were at an end. On the next Sunday Jessie came to church with us as usual.
I fully expected that she would take an opportunity of speaking to me on the subject of her difference with uncle Bryan; but as the time passed, and she did not speak of it, I approached the subject myself. I told her my opinion, and praised her for her courage.
'You are speaking against uncle Bryan,' she said.
'I can't help it, Jessie; 'he brings it on himself by his tyranny.'
'Tyranny!' she exclaimed. 'Do you forget what you said, and what I believe--that he is upright, honest, and just?'
'In other things he is; but not in this. He is like a man who can see, and who is colour-blind.'
'That is,' she said, with a deprecatory shake of the head, 'that he is Jessie-blind. Ah, Chris, if he is blind to what there is good in me, are you not blind to what there is bad?' I was about to expostulate, but she stopped me: 'I am not quite satisfied with myself; I don't know that it would not have been better for me to have held my tongue. And another thing, Chris: I am not sure whether I am glad that you think I was right.'