“You may go, Amy, and send Miss Matilda to me.”
Amy left the room. Mr. Howard also rose and quitted the room just as Matilda was entering it; she came in trembling excessively, and looking very pale, but the moment Mrs. Stanley placed the flower-pot before her and said, “Matilda, do you know any thing of this?” the deepest colour suffused her face, and mounted to her temples. She remained silent.
“You were in your cousin’s room after dinner, were you not?” Mrs. Stanley inquired.
“Yes, mamma.” The words were scarcely audible.
Mrs. Stanley fixed her eyes upon her face. “Matilda,” she said, “I happened to be in your cousin’s room immediately before dinner; I went to look for a book. The flowers then looked perfectly fresh; you must have overturned the flower-pot when Amy saw you coming out of the room this evening.”
Matilda’s agitation increased; she tried to speak, but Mrs. Stanley with difficulty could make out the words, “No, mamma.”
Mrs. Stanley herself now became much agitated. “Oh, Matilda,” she said, “I conjure you to speak out, and tell me clearly what did happen; do not let me have the pain of feeling that my child has not only shown duplicity in the attempt to conceal what at first was probably only an accident, but is now adding falsehood to her fault; tell me distinctly, did you or did you not overthrow that flower-pot and break those flowers?”
Leila went up to her and whispered, “Matilda, dear Matilda, speak the truth, don’t be afraid; I am not angry, I don’t care now for the flowers, that is, I don’t care very much, I am not so sorry for them now, indeed I am not. But say you did it, O do say it; don’t make God angry with you. O pray that this temptation may be taken from you; He will give you strength.”
Matilda was still silent, but the piteous look she cast on Leila was heart-rending.