“I am sure, Mrs. Appleton, that I haven’t any thing to do in the matter,” was Louisa’s answer.  “I have done nothing wilfully to wound or offend Maria, and therefore have no apologies to make.  If she sees in my character any thing so exceedingly offensive as to cause her thus to recede from me, I am sure that I do not wish her to have any kind of intercourse with me.”

“That is altogether out of the question, Louisa.  Maria has seen nothing real in you at which to be offended; it is an imaginary something that has blinded her mind.”

“In that case, Mrs. Appleton, I must say, as I said at first—­Let her pout it out.  I have no patience with any one who acts so foolishly.”

“You must pardon my importunity, Louisa,” her persevering friend replied.  “I am conscious that the position you have taken is a wrong one, and I cannot but hope that I shall be able to make you see it.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Appleton; none are so blind, it is said, as they who will not see,” Louisa replied, with a meaning smile.

“So you are conscious of an unwillingness to see the truth if opposed to your present feelings,” said Mrs. Appleton, smiling in return; “I have some hope of you now.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, yes; the better principles of your mind are becoming more active, and I now feel certain that you will think of Maria as unhappy from some erroneous idea which it is in your power to remove.”

“But her unkind and ungenerous conduct towards me”—­

“Don’t think of that, Louisa; think only if it be not in your power again to restore peace to her mind; again to cause her eyes to brighten and her lips to smile when you meet her.  It is in your power—­I know that it is.  Do not, then, let me beg of you, abuse that power, and suffer one heart to be oppressed when a word from you can remove the burden that weighs it down.”

To this appeal Laura remained silent for a few moments, and then looking up, said, “What would you have me do, Mrs. Appleton?”

“Nothing but what you see to be clearly right.  Do not act simply from my persuasion.  I urge you as I do, that you may perceive it to be a duty to go to Maria and try to disabuse her of an error that is producing unhappiness.”

“Then how do you think I ought to act?”

“It seems to me that you should go to Maria, and ask her, with that sincerity and frankness that she could not mistake, the cause of her changed manner; and that you should, at the same time, say that you were altogether unconscious of having said or done any thing to wound or offend her.”

“I will do it, Mrs. Appleton,” said Louisa, after musing for a few moments.

“But does it seem to you right that you should do so?”

“It does when I lose sight of myself, and think of Maria as standing to another in the same light that she really stands to me.”

“I am glad that you have thus separated your own feelings from the matter; that is the true way to view every subject that has regard to our actions towards others.  Go, then, to your estranged friend on this mission of peace, and I know that the result will be pleasant to both of you.”