“Is he out of danger?”
“The doctors think so.”
“Then, Aunt Frances, I can thank God; and what is more, I—even I, who am such an awfully naughty girl—can love God.”
“I don’t like cant,” said Lady Frances; and she turned away with a scornful expression on her lips.
Evelyn sprang to her, clutched both her hands, and said excitedly:
“Listen; you must. I have something to say. It was I who did it!”
“You, Evelyn—you!”
Lady Frances pushed the child from her, and moved a step away. There was such a look of horror on her face that Evelyn at another moment must have recoiled from it; but nothing could daunt her now in this hour of intense repentance.
“I did it,” she repeated—“oh, not meaning to do it! I will tell you; you must listen. Oh, I have been so—so wicked, so—so naughty, so stubborn, so selfish! I see myself at last; and there never, never was such a horrid girl before. Aunt Frances, you shall listen. I loaded the gun, for I meant to go out and shoot some birds on the wing. Uncle Edward doubted that I could do it, and I wanted to prove to him that I could; but I was prevented from going, and I forgot about the gun; and the night before last I ran away. I ran to Jasper. When you locked me up in my room I got out of my sitting-room window.”