“Never mind, Paul,” said Uncle Hugh, cheerily. “You know your own innocence; that is the main thing. It's a great thing to have a clear conscience.”
“But I liked Mr. Danforth and I think he liked me. It's hard to feel that he and Mrs. Danforth will both think me guilty, especially after the kindness which I have experienced from them.”
“We all have our crosses, my boy,—some light and others heavy. Yours, I admit is a heavy one for a boy to bear. But when men are unjust there is One above who will deal justly with us. You have not forgotten him.”
“No, Uncle Hugh,” said Paul, reverently.
“Trust in him, Paul, and all will come out right at last. He can prove your innocence, and you may be sure he will, in his own good time. Only be patient, Paul.”
“I will try to be, Uncle Hugh.”
The simple, hearty trust in God, which the sexton manifested, was not lost upon Paul. Sustained by his own consciousness of innocence, and the confidence reposed in him by those who knew him best, his mind soon regained its cheerful tone. He felt an inward conviction that God would vindicate his innocence.
His vindication came sooner than he anticipated.
The next day as the sexton's family were seated at their plain dinner, a knock was heard upon the outer door.
“Sit still, Hester,” said Mr. Cameron. “I will go to the door.”