To hear the earnest, wistful voice one might have supposed that generous, great-hearted Nellie was pleading for some great boon for herself.
But she could not tell all that Gracie felt. No, indeed; she did not know what coals of fire she was heaping on her head; how perfectly humbled and remorseful she felt as she remembered all the hard thoughts she had cherished toward her; the unkind words and unjust actions of which she had been guilty; all forgotten now, it seemed, by Nellie, who was only anxious to make the path of repentance as easy as possible to her, and to avoid all unnecessary shame and exposure to the one who had so greatly injured her.
With many sobs and broken words she told Nellie all that was in her heart, beseeching her forgiveness, and thanking her over and over for her consideration and sweet thoughtfulness; not that she put it in just such words, but in those that were very simple and very touching to Nellie.
So peace was made between them,—a peace that was sure to be lasting and true where there was such sincere repentance on one side, such good will and hearty forgiveness on the other.
Grandmamma Howard was only too glad on Gracie's account to accept Nellie's generous proposal.
Miss Ashton also agreed that the matter should go no further, and so it was arranged, and further disgrace to Gracie avoided, although the weight of shame and remorse was not readily lifted from her heart, and she felt as if her schoolmates must know her secret and that she dared scarcely look them in the face.
They all wondered at the new humility and modesty which she now began to show; but the change was an agreeable one, and drew forth no unkind remarks.
A prettier sight than Miss Ashton's garden and piazza on that lovely June afternoon when the long-talked-of fair took place, would have been hard to find. Kind friends had decked the spot tastefully; flowers were everywhere in abundance; the tables conveniently and becomingly arranged; and the display of articles upon them was not only tempting, but such as had been manufactured by the children did them wonderful credit. Flags, ribbons, wreaths, and festoons, all joined to make the scene gay; and in and out, among and below them flitted the white-robed "little sunbeams," who lent the fairest life and brightness to the scene.
"Sunbeams" they all were that day, indeed. No cloud appeared to darken their happiness, no ill-temper, jealousy, or desire to outvie one another was heard or seen. Even Gracie and Hattie, who were each rather oppressed with the sense of past naughtiness, and the feeling of what the others would say and think if they knew all, could not but be bright and gay amid this pleasant companionship.