She felt great sympathy for him, and was planning in her own mind how she could best cheer him under his disappointment, when he threw open the door, and with a joyous bound sprang towards her.
“Look, Hatty!” he said, as he laid on her lap the richly bound copy of Virgil which he had so desired for its own sake, as well as a mark of his teacher’s approval.
“It is mine, given in the presence of the school, by Mr. Briggs!” said Marcus, with a joyous smile, “And I owe it all to you, Hatty.”
“I am so glad!” said Hatty, with real pleasure. “But you do not owe it to me, Marcus.”
“Yes, Hatty,” continued Marcus,—“Mr. Briggs knew all about my being late, and he was waiting for me to acknowledge it; if I had not I should have lost his confidence, and the prize would never have been mine, he said: as it was, no other boy stood as high as I did! Isn’t it splendid?”
“I am very, very glad,” repeated Hatty. “Is it not better always to try to do right, Marcus!” she added softly.
Marcus opened his mouth as if to speak, then turned silently away.
That evening Mrs. Lee sat in the library, in the twilight, with Marcus and Hatty. She too had heard about the prize, and had rejoiced with her son, with a silent prayer in her heart that he might see the wisdom of the Better Path, and be led always to do right by the happy results which had followed the step that had cost him such an effort.
After the subject of the prize had been discussed, a feeling of quietness stole over the little group; perhaps all had their own serious thoughts at that twilight hour.
“Come, Hatty,” said Mrs. Lee, pleasantly, “can you not recite a hymn for us?”