Conscience

by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen

This excellent lady took me home with her, and it was to her goodness I owe every thing. She had lost nearly all her property by the failure of a merchant to whom she had lent money; she had supported herself by taking boarders. I was perfectly destitute; my mother had made out to get a living by taking in sewing, but left nothing. The last year of her life she could not have got along without my assistance, and what was given her by her charitable neighbors; and for the last three months she could not even make her bed, or clean her own room, or do her little cooking, without my help. And O, how happy I was when I was helping my dear mother! Now at this moment, when I am so old, and forget so many things, how well I remember her and all she said! It seems as if I could hear her say, "What should I do without you, my dear Susan." It seems to me as if I would rather live over again those days, when I was trying to help and comfort my sick mother, than any of my whole life. Children are not aware how much they can do for their parents, nor do they know what a blessed remembrance it will be to them to think that they have lessened the sufferings of a sick mother. All the riches in the world would not afford them such happiness.

Mrs. Brown, the kind lady who took me home, told me that she would send me to school, and that I should have a home at her house; but that, as she was very poor, she should expect me to exert myself when I was not at school, and do all I could to help in the house; and that I must improve my time at school. She gave me a great deal of good advice, and told me I must not imitate the bad conduct that I might see; and that I must never do any thing without asking my conscience whether it was right to do it. I remember she asked me if I knew what my conscience was. I was not quite sure that I did; so I said, I did not know whether I did. Then she asked me if I ever remembered doing wrong.

"O yes, ma'am," I said; "I never shall forget playing with my mother's bottle of cough drops, when she told me not to, and spilling them all out. I did not tell her of it at first, and she could not get any more till next day; and every time she coughed, it seemed as if my heart would break; and I hated myself, and could not bear it at all till I told her I had played with the bottle and spilled the drops."

"It was your conscience, Susan," the old lady said, "that was so troubled; it was your conscience that said you must tell your mother; this is God's witness in your heart; always do as that directs you, and come what will, Susan, you can bear it."

I was so grateful to my kind friend for her tender care of me, that I attended to all she said to me, and never forgot it; and it has been the source of happiness to me through life. I had not been long in the school before I had a trial of my conscience, and I thank Him who is the giver of all strength that I resisted this first temptation.

One day the schoolmistress left her penknife open upon her desk, when she went out of her room during the recess; nearly all the girls took it into their hands to look at it, for it had a number of blades, and was rather curious; some of them tried the knife to see how sharp it was. We had been told not to meddle with her things, and all of us knew it was wrong; as I was one of the small girls, I did not get a chance to look at it till all had seen it; but, when the others ran out to the play ground, and I was left alone, I went to the desk, and took up the knife, and opened and shut all the blades; but instead of leaving the one open which I found so, I left open another blade, just put it on the edge of my nail, to see how very sharp it was, and then laid it down, and ran after the rest of the girls.

When the schoolmistress came in, she immediately saw that we had taken up her knife. "Some one," said she, "has been using my knife; I am sure of it, because the blade that I left open is shut, and another is open, and it is gapped; who has done it?" Not a girl spoke; I thought that I was the only one who had opened and shut the blades, but I knew I had not gapped either of them. I knew that all the others had taken up the knife; I was afraid to speak; I did not like to take the whole blame, and I was silent as the other girls were.

After waiting a few minutes, our teacher said, "As none of you choose to confess who has done this, I shall have to punish the innocent with the guilty; I shall take away a merit from all of you, except those few girls who, I feel sure, would not disobey me."

There were only five girls in the school who did not lose a merit, and I was one of the number. As she named them over, and gave her reasons for believing them innocent, when she came to me, she said, "Little Susan Vincent has been so orderly and so good ever since she has been here, that I am sure it was not she that did it, and, if she had, I am sure she would confess it."

I felt as if I was choking; I put my head clear down so that no one could see my face; but the girls, who had none of them seen me touch the knife, thought that my modesty made me appear so much confused; no one but God and myself knew that I had a guilty conscience. I felt too dreadfully to speak then; I thought of nothing else all school time; I missed in all my lessons, for I did not attend to any thing that was said to me. The schoolmistress thought I was sick, and I went home miserable enough.