“A day, an hour ago, I should have repelled any efforts to make me an accomplice in a lie, with scorn, loathing, wrath; but three handkerchiefs were waving for us to come, and shouts of ‘all aboard!’ were borne to our ears from the river bank. I did not stop—I did not even hesitate—busy whispers were at my heart, my face was flushed. I disregarded the reproaches of conscience. Deliberately, consciously, and with a clear knowledge of what my sin was, I stepped into the boat. A few strokes of the oars, and with a long breath of relief, I told myself, it was too late.
“We were wild with delight—the boat glided on so swiftly, the sky was cloudless—the birds seemed too happy to sing, and the bright sunshine gilded tree and rock and water—and then, as we turned at a bend in the shore, a white tent appeared, and groups of children shouted welcome to us. We had music, refreshments, and games, and the hours passed only too swiftly.
“I shall always remember Willie’s kindness in amusing the smallest, settling all troubles, and inventing new pleasures for us that day. He was the life of the party, and with his merry ways made many friends among the little ones. I was so full of excitement that I had no time to think, but towards evening a quieter time came, and I sat down apart.
“Cora was near by in a ring of girls and boys, shouting with pleasure, her limbs and face all alive with play, and then I grew sad. What was it worth? It was all gone, nearly over now—the laughing and sport—but the pain of the sin still remained—it had been there all day, like a shadow haunting me, but I would not think of it. I had had my will—and did it satisfy?
“‘Come, Mary, Cora, Robbie, Johnnie, we are all ready—come,’ and Willie appeared with Nellie in his arms.
“‘Oh! just a little longer, Willie,’ cried Cora, ‘do—it is so early.’
“‘No, not a minute; Auntie bade us come before the dew had fallen;’ and off he marched.
“We knew there was no use in saying one word, but the spirit of naughtiness was strong within us, and we pouted and grumbled much at being obliged to leave before the rest. In the boat, there was a gentleman, who gave me a seat beside him, and said he had just come from Italy, and that he had seen papa. He was a Mr. Percy, and was going with us to make a visit at uncle Bell’s. When he mentioned papa, a whole flood of feeling came into my heart; I could not say a word. I looked down at the water and shut my lips tight.
“‘He was in an old tower, with hills—purple hills all about him, and a white mountain not far off. There was a valley, too, and a glimpse of the deep blue sea. The air is always soft—and the sky, the sunshine makes one think of heaven.’ This he said to Willie.