Summary

Various The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18…

We are both of us flesh and blood, and hate one another. And one of us is honest enough, and uncivil enough, to say so."
"Speak for yourself, dame," replied Mercy, quietly, "for I hate you not; and I thank God for it. To hate is to be miserable. I'd liever be hated than to hate."
Mrs. Gaunt looked at her. "Your words are goodly and wise," said she; "your face is honest, and your eyes are like a very dove's. But, for all that, you hate me quietly, with all your heart. Human nature is human nature."
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18…

Grandmother compressed her lips, but her eyes spoke volumes.
"Miss Stackpole," said I, "it is true that Rhoda has not been here long; still, I have a perfect conviction of her honesty."
"Very amiable and generous of you to feel so, Kate," said Miss Stackpole; "perhaps a few years ago, when I was of your age, I should have thought just the same."
"Kate is twenty next September," said grandmother, who could refrain no longer. "I never forget anybody's age. It is quite possible that she will change in the course of twenty-five or thirty years."
Source: Gutenberg

Various The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18…

You are afraid to tell me you love me, and I am ashamed to own to you or anybody else that I love you, in spite of it all;—I do, though."
"You love me! a wretch like me, Kate? 'T is impossible. I cannot be so happy."
"Child," said Mrs. Gaunt, "love is not reason; love is not common sense. 'T is a passion; like your jealousy, poor fool. I love you, as a mother loves her child, all the more for all you have made me suffer.
Source: Gutenberg

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