Then followed a faithful narration of facts, exactly as they had occurred.
"Well, my dear little lady," replied the gardener, twisting the rose off the empty watering-pot he held in his hand; "old Jonathan is but a poor comforter; yet he always likes to look for the rainbow in a shower. Dry up the tears, and let us see what can be done. God knows all about everything, and that is why it is such a comfort to go and tell Him. There! There! Don't cry any more," added the affectionate old man, taking up a corner of the child's white pinafore to wipe away the blinding tears, which flowed all the faster for this loving sympathy.
"Mamma loves her little girl more than a thousand flower vases. She is not angry with you for breaking it, my love. Bless her dear, kind, gentle heart, she is the last to punish for that sort of thing. It was only because you did not mind your music, my dear, and what she told you about keeping from touching the things in the drawing room.
"My mother used to tell me when I was a little chap that I had no eyes in my fingers; and 'twould be a good thing if all children remembered that wholesome lesson. It would save them from many a mishap. Now, when mamma comes back, let her find her little girl with a sunny face and lessons all ready for to-morrow. Why, some day perhaps you will be able to buy her another vase; that will be something for you to save up your pennies for. Crying will not mend the broken pieces. When we have done a naughty thing, the best way is to be very sorry for it, and then turn over a new leaf and to begin again quite fresh."
As Clarice began to see the force of this sound reasoning, a happy light broke over her face, and the sobbing ceased.
"Oh, Jonathan!" she whispered. "You always make me want to be good."
"It is not me, dear child; it is not me! It is God's Holy Spirit, which is promised to all who ask for it. This is the candle of the Lord; and when it lights up our dark hearts, we see our faults as God would have us see them, and we are so sorry. Then He makes us good again, and the darkness all passes away, and we are happy once more. O Lord, help Thy dear lamb!" murmured the aged man, looking up into the blue sky as he moved away to continue his work.
Now Robin happened to be weeding a path close by, and consequently overheard most of this conversation. Every word had pricked him like a sharp thorn, for he knew well that if it had not been for his concealed transgression, Clarice's trouble would not have been so great.
Yet he dared not confess the truth. A guilty feeling made him tremble and turn pale as he passed that window and caught sight of the tear-stained face within. He could watch the quickly moving lips, as Clarice set herself resolutely to master her lessons; yet, though it touched him and made his heart sore, he had not the moral courage to say the word that would free her from much of the blame. He dared not face the consequences involved in such a course of action, and therefore still determined to keep his unhappy secret.
That night the silver moonlight shone down alike into hall and cottage window. Dear little Clarice knelt by her white bed, with her hands clasped and a happy smile upon her face as she looked up into the starry sky. She was thanking God for making her good again. The burden had been lifted off her heart by her mother's kiss of forgiveness, and "the peace which passeth all understanding" left its seal upon her brow as she fell asleep.