"Well said! well spoken! with good emphasis and proper action.
Forrest himself could scarce have done it better!"
Such was the exclamation of Mr. Clifford, who entered the room
at this moment. His mock applause was accompanied by a clamorous
clapping of his hands. I felt my cheeks burn, and my blood boil.
The truth is, I was not free from the consciousness that I had
suffered some of the grandiloquent to appear in my manner while
speaking the sentence which had provoked the ridicule of my uncle.
The sarcasm acquired increase of sting in consequence of its being
partially well-merited. I replied with some little show of temper,
which the imploring glances of Julia did not altogether persuade
me to suppress. The "blind heart" was growing stronger within
me, from the increasing conviction of my own independence. In this
sort of mimic warfare the day passed off as usual. I attended the
family to church in the afternoon, took tea, and spent the evening
with them--content to suffer the "stings and arrows"--however
outrageous, of my exemplary and Christian aunt and uncle, if permitted
to enjoy the presence and occasional smiles of the true angel,
whose influence could still temper my feelings into a humane and
patient toleration of influences which they yet burned to trample
under foot.