Mrs Herbert followed, though almost inclined to find fault with him for running the risk of awakening her.
But Amy's repose was too deep to be disturbed even by her father's kiss. There was a tear on her cheek, which showed what her last thought had been; but sleep had restored the peacefulness of an innocent mind; and Colonel Herbert, as he looked at her with delight, prayed that it might never forsake her.
Mrs Herbert's conversation with Margaret, the following day, was more satisfactory than she had anticipated. At first, indeed, Margaret refused to listen to any consolation. She declared that she had been the sole cause of the accident; that her mother must consider her so; and that it would be impossible ever again to know a happy moment. But when her aunt, although fully allowing her negligence and selfishness, pointed out how many other circumstances had combined to bring about the event; without which her fault, however great, would probably have produced no important consequences to any one but herself, Margaret became calmer; and Mrs Herbert's fear then was, lest she should consider herself perfectly free from blame. "I do not mean, my dear," she said, "that you have no reason to reproach yourself, for selfishness and neglect must always be serious offences in the eye of God; but what I wish you to feel is, that if you have acted in the same manner on other occasions, you have been equally guilty in His sight, though no one may have known it but yourself."
"Every one is selfish," said Margaret; "I never thought it was very wicked before."
"Every one is selfish, naturally," replied Mrs Herbert; "but we are sent into the world to conquer our nature; and many persons are enabled to do it almost entirely. You will not call Miss Morton selfish?"
"No," said Margaret, "I don't think she is; but she has been so unhappy always, that I can never fancy she has had the same inclinations as other people—I mean that she does not care for things in the same way; and so it is not much trouble to her to give them up."
"Yes," observed Mrs Herbert, "she has had a great deal of suffering in her short life; and I doubt whether any trial has been greater than the present."
"I was afraid she would be very miserable," said Margaret. "Dora has told me how ill she looks; and I am sorry for her."
There was a slight hesitation in Margaret's manner, as if she wished to escape from the subject; but Mrs Herbert was not inclined to permit it to drop. "I am sure you feel for her now, my dear," she said; "but you could hardly have done so when you would have allowed her to be sent away under a false impression, and at a time when, of all others, it must have been most distressing."
The colour rushed to Margaret's cheek, but she answered quickly, "I did not know what would happen then; and, besides, she did not go."