The bedclothes were firmly taken away from her head, and Harebell saw through half-shut eyes, her aunt standing with a candle in her hand.
The trembling child put out her hand.
"Oh, please forgive me, Aunt Diana! I'm sorry I was naughty. I'm so glad you're not the devil. I thought it was him!"
Mrs. Keith put her hand on Harebell's forehead; it was moist with perspiration, and the child's face was a deathly white. Her terror had been very real. She clung hold of her aunt's hand.
"Just stay with me. I'm so frightened. I have been so wicked, and I wouldn't say my prayers, and then of course God went away and left me. Do ask him to come back."
"I'm glad to hear you say you are sorry," said Mrs. Keith in a low even tone, "for you quite shocked me by your passion."
"Do forgive me."
"I will let it pass. We will say no more about it."
"Will God forgive me?"
"Ask Him."