Matilda jumped up to assist her, and in her haste overturned an ink-glass on the table, which she herself had neglected to put into the inkstand again; a small portion of the ink fell on the beautiful binding of the book; Matilda was horror-struck.
“Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do?” she exclaimed, as she stood in helpless distress gazing upon it.
But Lydia did not lose her presence of mind for a moment; tearing out a sheet of blotting-paper from a book which lay before them, she quickly soaked up the ink, then seizing a sponge which Selina had been using for her drawing, she dipped it in a tumbler of water, and dexterously effaced almost every trace of the stain. The book was bound in white vellum, highly glazed, so that the ink had not sunk in, scarcely a trace of it was discernible.
“Now is not this well and cleverly done?” Lydia said. “Come, cheer up, Matilda, don’t think of it another moment; it was awkward enough in you, to be sure; but mum’s the word, and it never will be perceived; I must put it in the book-case again, and as far back as I can.” She was jumping up on the chair, but Matilda took the book from her hand and looked at it earnestly for a moment.
“Oh! you need not be afraid, and look so dismal; I really don’t think it possible it can be found out.”
Matilda still retained the book in her hand, and rose as if about to leave the room.
“Where are you going?” Lydia impatiently asked.
“To show this to Mrs. Roberts,” Matilda answered, timidly.
“To show it to Mrs. Roberts! Are you mad, Matilda? Surely you would not be such a fool—oh! I beg your pardon for calling you so; how mamma would be shocked if she heard me talking in this vulgar manner—there is nothing she dislikes so much as vulgarity. I beg your pardon, but you did put me in such a passion.” Then changing her tone from that of anger, she continued, mournfully,—“And so you would bring me into this scrape and get me punished, I who have ever loved you, ever been your friend—I who would have stood by you till the last moment! Oh, Matilda! but go—go and leave me.”
Matilda stood irresolute. She covered her face with her hands, the tears trickled down between her fingers, but she softly repeated to herself, “Trust in the Lord with all thy heart, and He shall direct thy path.” She removed her hands, she looked up, and in a firm voice she said,—“Lydia, it was I who overturned the ink, and it is I who shall bear the punishment;” and she left the room.