“With better results than I could have believed, certainly.  Gentleness, consideration, and firmness, I find do a great deal, and their exercise leaves my own mind in a good state.  There is a power in patience that I did not believe it possessed.  I can do more by a mildly spoken word, than by the most emphatic command uttered in a passion.  This is the experience of a few weeks.  But, alas!  Kate, to be able to exercise patience—­how hard a thing that is!  It requires constant watchfulness and a constant effort.  Every hour I find myself betrayed into the utterance of some hasty word, and feel its powerlessness compared to those that are most gently spoken.”

“Do you get on with your domestics any better than you did?”

“Oh, yes!  Far better.”

“I suppose you sent Hannah away some time ago?”

“No.  I have her yet.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, and she does very well.”

“Does she get your meals ready in time?”

“She is punctual to the minute.”

“Really she must have changed for the better!  And is this, too, the result of patience and forbearance on your part?”

“I suppose so.  What you said in regard to having patience, at your last visit, struck me forcibly, and caused me to feel humbled and self-condemned.  The more I thought of it, the more satisfied was I that you were right.  But it was one thing to see the use of patience, and another thing to exercise it.  To be patient amid the turbulence, ill-tempers, and disobedience of children, and the irregularities, carelessness and neglect of domestics, seemed a thing impossible.  I was in this state of doubt as to my ability to exercise the virtue so much needed in my household, when Hannah came to the door of the room where I was sitting in no very happy mood, and notified me of some want in the kitchen in an exceedingly provoking way.  I was about replying sharply and angrily; but suddenly checking myself, I said in a quiet, mild way, ’Very well, Hannah.  I will see that it is supplied.’

“The girl stood for some moments, looking at me with an expression of surprise on her face, and then walked away.  This was a victory over myself, and I felt, also, a victory over her.  Not half an hour elapsed, before, on passing near the kitchen, she said to me, in a very respectful manner: 

“’I forgot to tell you, this morning, that the tea was all out.  But I can run round to the store and get some in a few minutes.’

“‘Do so, if you please, Hannah,’ I returned, without evincing the slightest feeling of annoyance at her neglect; ’and try, if you can, to have tea ready precisely at six o’clock.’

“‘I will have it ready, ma’am,’ she replied.  And it was ready.

“Had I not exercised patience and self-control, the interview would have been something after this fashion:  about ten minutes before tea-time, Hannah would have come to me and said, with provoking coolness—­