Julia. Yes, mamma, indeed I should. My hand smarted sadly, and hurt me extremely at first; but after you had dressed it, and tied it up so neatly, it was soon easy. We had a charming walk afterwards. I am sure I should not have enjoyed the walk, or any thing else, whilst the pain continued. Pain is very disagreeable. Well, if I saved the lamb some misery, I am glad; though by doing so, I have lost the flowers. I do not think Mary would have admired them when she found out that I had left Bello in order to gather them. Every time she looked at them, she would have thought more of the poor animal, than of their pretty colours or sweet smell. Every time she spoke to me, I should have feared she had discovered the truth. When she said, “thank you, dear Julia, for these flowers, I like them very much,” I should have thought, You would not love me, if you knew all. I should not be your dear Julia, if you knew I had been cruel and unkind to a dumb animal, on purpose to get this bow-pot. So, after all, mamma, it is well I did not gather the flowers: they would not have made me happy. Mamma, you said, just now, that certainly it would not have been the same thing to me, if I had left the lamb. Why not, mamma?
Mrs. V. Goose-cap! why ask that silly question? Reflect on what you have yourself said, and find out the reason if you can.
Julia. Oh, now I guess, mamma! Because, though the lamb might have been taken care of, I should not have had any merit: I should have been cruel all the same, though chance might have brought some one else to its assistance.
Mrs. V. True, my dear; you would have been conscious of having acted improperly.
Julia. Mamma, if I get up early to-morrow morning, may I go and gather the primroses, violets, and cowslips, before breakfast?
Mrs. V. You may; I am glad this idea has occurred to you. I hope you will still enjoy the pleasure of ornamenting Mary’s room.
Julia. Why do you say hope, mamma? I am now sure of the flowers, as you have given me permission to gather them.
Mrs. V. You considered yourself sure of them, this evening, when you left me; yet, Julia, you were disappointed. No one is sure of the future. It is possible, something we do not at present foresee may again disappoint you.
Julia. I do not think so: Miss Beauchamp has no more pet-lambs to fall over the hedge.
Mrs. V. Are Miss Beauchamp’s pet-lambs the only things in the world? Suppose it should rain to-morrow morning, I should not then allow you to go out in the wet: I should fear you would catch cold, and be ill, as you were in the winter.