"Don't think so! Wouldn't you be certain if he had?"
"I'm sure he didn't, then."
"You know all you've said to me about our being punished for everything wrong we do."
"Yes."
"How long—how long do you think my punishment will last?" asked Linda naïvely.
"What does it consist in? What do you mean?"
"Bertram's not forgiving me. I have that awful feeling that Bertram never will forgive me—never can like me again, when—when"—the nervous excitement in the low voice increased—"he's the most important person in the world to me: the one Father loved best and who has helped him most. Think what I've done! Put myself beyond the pale of his liking: his forgiveness." A dry sob shook the speaker. "And Fred hasn't told him about the letters. He doesn't dream yet that we know the truth; and Fred says I mustn't tell him: that he mustn't be excited."
"Hush, Linda. Think, dear. You know enough truth to steer by now. 'Cast thy burden on the Lord, and He will sustain thee.' All your part is to think right and do right to-day. You don't want to escape punishment, do you?"
"Yes, I do. I've been punished enough, just in the last few hours. I want Bertram to know I suffer and to forgive me, and to accept my appreciation of all he has done."
"Look out there, Linda,"—Mrs. Porter indicated the starry firmament visible through the broad window, every golden point scintillating in the crystal clear air. "The marvelous order and peace of that sky will rest you and make you realize what it is to allow yourself to be guided by the same Mind that planned those unthinkable depths yet which notes the sparrow's fall. Turn to Him. Never mind Bertram King and Linda Barry. Just know that God is Love, and that to-morrow you will be guided to take steps in the right direction. 'Commit thy way unto Him and He will bring it to pass.'"