"I saw you every day twice," she said, pausing often for breath; "I was hiding in the barn. I hid myself on Christmas Eve among the straw—like Joan and me used to do for fun—and I laid the baby asleep in the manger—for Joan to find; and I saw her come, and heard her sing—I was watching her and you. And after that I couldn't go away; there was nowhere and nobody to go to; and I stayed hiding in the barn. But I was very cold and miserable; I was frightened of dying there in the barn. And in the night I came close to the house—to look for food—and hearken if I could hear the baby. I'm not frightened or miserable now."
"Never mind the trouble now, Rhoda," said old Nathan. "Your aunt's forgiven you, and taken you home again; and God, He'll forgive us all, and take us home again some day. Think o' getting well and strong again, my poor lass."
"Not me," murmured Rhoda, faintly; "it's best for me to die, I know. Baby 'll be happier without me. I couldn't play with him and make him merry. Joan 'ill be as a little mother to him, won't you, Joan? I'm going to give him to you for your very own."
"For my very own!" repeated Joan, with wondering, wide-open eyes.
NATHAN CAME UPSTAIRS TO VISIT RHODA
"Ay! if aunty will let me," answered Rhoda, smiling; "she 'll love the baby, I know, now she's reconciled to me. Nathan, she forgives me, and God forgives me. I'm not unhappy any more."
"Rhoda, my lass," said old Nathan, "thy aunt 'ill never be happy no more, if thou dies. She's pardoned thee with all her heart; and thou must try to live, and pay her back. Tell me where thou 's been all this long while."
For a few minutes Rhoda lay silent, with a look of pain on her young, pale face.