“Tell me what is wrong, my poor child,” said Mr Everard. He laid his hand on her shoulder, and gradually and skillfully drew from the agitated and miserable girl the story of her sin, of her cowardice, and of her deep, though until now unavailing repentance. How from the first she had hated and disliked Annie; how unjustly she had felt toward her; how she had longed and hoped Annie was guilty; and how, when at last the clew was put into her hands to prove Annie’s absolute innocence, she had determined not to use it.
“From the day Nan was lost,” continued Hester, “it has been all agony and all repentance; but, oh, I was too proud to tell! I was too proud to humble myself to the very dust!”
“But not now,” said the clergyman very gently.
“No, no; not now. I care for nothing now in all the world except that Annie may live.”
“You don’t mind the fact that Mrs Willis and all your school-fellows must know of this, and must—must judge you accordingly?”
“They can’t think worse of me than I think of myself. I only want Annie to live.”
“No, Hester,” answered Mr Everard, “you want more than that—you want far more than that. It may be that God will take Annie Forest away. We cannot tell. With Him alone are the issues of life or death. What you really want, my child, is the forgiveness of the little girl you have wronged, and the forgiveness of your Father in heaven.” Hester began to sob wildly.
“If—if she dies—may I see her first?” she gasped.
“Yes; I will try and promise you that. Now, will you go to your room? I must speak to Miss Drummond alone; she is a far worse culprit than you.”
Mr Everard opened the door for Hester, who went silently out.