Emily burst into tears and cried a long time. That night she read her Bible carefully, and tried to pray; but as she said, her prayers had no wings, and left her feeling more wretched and heavy laden than before, while the sentence with which Mr. Fletcher had concluded their conversation seemed to ring in her ears, and to be repeated again and again, "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me."
She knew the right way. She knew that she should find neither rest nor peace till she had confessed her sin, not only to God, but also to the fellow creature she had wronged, and made all the reparation in her power. But whenever she thought of this, the vivid image of the dreaded consequences of her faults rose up before her, and she dared not proceed.
Still she persevered in her devotions, though she found little or no benefit from them, unless might be the constantly increasing conviction that she could never be happy with such a load of concealed guilt upon her conscience.
It happened, that a day or two after the conversation we have recorded, she was invited by one of the day scholars to spend some time with her. Mrs. Pomeroy saw no objection to her accepting the invitation, and Emily was only too happy to snatch at anything which promised her some little diversion. Abby Carson was a lively, merry girl, of about her own age, and she expected a good deal of pleasure from her society. The day passed very pleasantly in various employments and diversions; but when the hours began to draw toward bed-time, a struggle arose in Emily's heart. She knew that she was to sleep with Abby—should she put her resolution to the test by kneeling down and saying her prayers, or should she act as she had done before in Delia's case? She knew what she ought to do well enough, but what she should do was another question.
Abby's frankness, however, removed her difficulties. She was delaying and fidgeting about undressing, when her companion said—
"If you want to read and say your prayers, Emily, don't let me hinder you. There is a Bible on the table."
"Thank you," said Emily, relieved, and blushing for herself. "Here I will do just as if I were in my own room."
She sat down and found her place as she spoke, and, at Abby's request, read her chapter aloud. She could not help feeling a little self-righteous, as she observed that Abby lay down without even the semblance of a prayer. "After all," she thought, "I am not the worst person in the world."
"Don't you say your prayers, Abby?" she asked, after they were both in bed and the light was put out.
"Not very often," replied Abby. "I used to say them when I slept in the nursery, but since I have had a room to myself, I have got out of the habit of it; and besides, to tell you the truth, I do so many wrong things, every day, I am ashamed to say them."