“‘Yes. Cora put it there,’ I said, ‘in the box-wood—the day of the pic-nic;’ and then, with tears and broken words, I told her all. She listened without saying a word; but it was painful to see the mother’s face, flushing, paling, full of pain. She rang for Ricy, who came in a moment or two.
“‘Did you give Miss Cora cream the day the children had their pic-nic, Ricy? I sent her for some in the morning,’ said Auntie.
“‘Yes, ’pears like I did,’ answered Ricy, meditating. ‘Yes, Missis, I did; bressed lamb! and she had that bery apurn on, ’cause I thought she’d spill de cream on’t, an’ tole her so. Laws, ’taint no countin’ on life dese yer days; to see her then, so peart, and now——,’ and Ricy, at a gesture from my aunt, went away in tears.
“‘If she had only told me of it—if she had only said one word of sorrow for her faults,—one word,—it would not have seemed so hard,’ moaned Auntie, rocking herself to and fro.
“‘Oh! Auntie, I think she meant to tell you—she talked about it in her sleep, she was troubled, she did not seem the same afterwards: but—but—’ and then I faltered out my own share in the guilt, and told her of Cora’s hesitation, and of my fear that we should be late, and of offering to tell about the cream while Cora ran for her bonnet, being afraid she would confess and so delay us.
“My gentle aunt’s look of displeasure, her repellent gesture and cold words: ‘I must go to my child and leave you to your thoughts; they cannot be pleasant ones,’ were bitter indeed to bear. Surely my sin had found me out.
“So she went up stairs again, and left me in my grief alone. It seemed as if the sun never could shine again—that a great black cloud had shut out my sky, and there was nothing but despair in the world. And so I lay there, too sad to weep, only choking and sobbing, till Willie came and carried me into his own cool room, and with gentle words soothed me, till I had poured out my grief to him and so lightened the burden.
“He told me I must not mourn so, and showed me that I must not follow my own will even in this, since it was that self-will which caused all my troubles. In his beautiful way, he told me where the wrong lay, and pointed to the one safe path for avoiding pitfalls and thickets, and before the hour was spent, stilled even my cries at the thought of Cora’s dying—saying, ‘God’s will must be our will, and we dare not murmur.’
“Willie himself sat by my bedside till I went to sleep, and he it was that brought Aunt Marion to kiss me before I closed my eyes. It was a very tender kiss, for anger and bitter feeling melt away in the presence of death, and her heart was stirred too deeply to wish to inflict pain on one already suffering.
“Daylight was streaming into my room when I opened my eyes. I heard the birds singing, the doves cooing, and busy sounds of life everywhere. I dressed myself, and the cheerful light drove away the sadness of the day before. Surely one need not fear under such a sky and such a sunshine.