Day was dawning ere the first gleam of true comfort visited my soul. It came with a memory of Holy Writ. "If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things." My heart did condemn me for folly and mistake, but not for the moral ugliness and dissimulation which I believed were imputed to me. And God knew all things! However others might misjudge me, there was perfect comprehension, perfect justice for me with Him. Why had I not carried my sense of wrong to Him, instead of resenting my injury with weapons of pride and indignation which had only recoiled against myself? I had longed for the comfort of mother's sympathy, and all the while there was a stronger, mightier Love, a Love which knew those hidden recesses of my heart that I could hardly have laid bare even to her, and the arms of that love were outstretched to draw me near! Weak, helpless, crying like a child, I crept into the embrace of that love, and found rest. As the birds began to chirp beneath the eaves I fell asleep.
When I came into the breakfast-room the next morning, rather later than usual, Mr. Dicks cheerily congratulated me on its being such a fine day for the garden party.
"It is just the kind of weather you young ladies like," he said; "fine and warm enough for you to wear your muslins and laces without a fear. How my Pollie would have enjoyed it! However, she will enjoy going to the seaside before long, if all goes well. The doctor says he will soon give us permission to shift our quarters."
I hardly know how I replied to him, for at the same moment there fell on my ears the voice of Alan Faulkner saying to Aunt Patty in clear, incisive tones:
"I must write a note to Mrs. Canfield, and beg her to excuse me this afternoon. I am obliged to go to town to-day on important business."
"Oh, what a pity!" Aunt Patty exclaimed, with genuine regret in her tones. "Mrs. Canfield will be so disappointed."
"I think not," he said with a shake of the head. "Out of a hundred guests she can surely spare one."
"That may be, but not such a one," was aunt's reply. "I know that both she and the Squire were looking forward to seeing you."
Alan Faulkner smiled incredulously. For a learned professor, he was wonderfully deficient in a sense of his own importance.
"Is there no help for it?" aunt asked.