Then Norah's and Bridget's mirth was irresistible; in short Tilly began to enjoy herself, and when by-and-bye Margot crept into the room set apart for Reparation, in which the young girl was lying sound asleep, she felt comparatively happy about her.
Margot was on her way to her own room, the dressing-room of The Desmond, when she unexpectedly and to her intense joy met her beloved Uncle Jacko. She stopped him at once. He put his arm round her and kissed her.
"Uncle Jacko, you are a holy priest, aren't you?"
"I'm a clergyman of the Church of England, my dear little girl."
"Uncle Jacko, I had to bring Tilly here—I didn't want to, but she—she's Reparation."
"I don't understand you, my pet."
"Oh, Uncle Jacko, I hadn't any opportunity to tell you when we were coming here, and it was a long, a very long journey, and I was tired, and Tilly was tired, and you were tired, but now, oh, I must tell you in as few words as possible. Uncle Jacko, your own little Marguerite told a black, black lie!"
"You didn't," said Uncle Jacko, starting back as though something pressed against his heart.
"I did, it came about in this way. Madame la Comtesse told the Comte St. Juste that she had given up her enormous magasin. She said she had plenty of money without working any more and the Comte, mon grandpère, he believed her. But she didn't give it up at all in reality and she sent me there every day to sell hats and robes to the customers, and at last some wicked girls in the school that I went to—they had seen me in the shop—and they went and told grandpère, le pauvre grandpère—and he fell down in a sort of fit, and Madame was beside herself. But when he came to, I told him that the établissement belonged to Madame Marcelle, and he grew happy again and he forgave ma pauvre grand'mère. Oh, but it was terrible, for I had told a black, black lie! Then I thought I would repair it by bringing Tilly here and—I couldn't confess because I'm not a Catholic—so that seemed the—the only thing to do. Oh, Uncle Jacko, can you forgive me?"
"Have you asked God to forgive you, my little child? I am a sinful man, but He—He is perfect. It was a difficult time for you, my little Margot, but you must on no account disturb The Desmond. Say nothing to him about the shop. You have three months to spend with him, and when I come to fetch you back to Arles, we can talk further on this matter."