She broke open the parcel, took out one gibraltar, which did not taste as sweet as usual, and crowded the rest into her pocket. Though she had equivocated many times since she came to P—, she had not before told a downright falsehood; and somehow, the thought of it troubled her. At home it seemed natural to deceive; and then nobody had told her how wicked it was.
"What an impudent fellow that is, to ask so many questions!" she soliloquized. "I am almost sorry I did not leave the candy with him after all. He may keep it if he is so afraid of losing his money. I wish father would send me some; and I would pay his bill, and never buy anything at his store again."
But all this did not satisfy her conscience, which was beginning to be more enlightened. She had not listened, morning and evening, to her uncle's prayer for strength to resist the temptations of our own hearts to do evil, without some feeble desire for help to do likewise. She had not been witness to the lovely, consistent conduct of her cousin, without hoping at some future time to be like her. She had begun to love her aunt and, indeed, the whole family; but she found herself during the day returning short answer to their affectionate questions, not daring to look them frankly in the face.
She had promised Mary that she would try to be good, and would ask her heavenly Father to help her; but in the evening when she retired to her room, and began to repeat the form of prayer she had learned, her heart seemed to rise up in her throat and choke her. Covering her face with her hands, she gave way to a passionate burst of grief and thus her cousin found her.
"Why, Ellen!" she cried. "What has happened? Do let me comfort you."
But for some time the sobbing girl could not speak. Indeed, there was a severe struggle going on within her. Conscience, awakened at last, urged her to confess her fault, ask God, and then her aunt, to forgive her. Next pride would plead, "What a fuss you are making for just a little lie which can do no harm to any one. You bought the candy, and mean to pay for it. You have told bigger lies a great many times, and never cared about it."
Oh, how little Ellen then realized that the gracious Spirit of God was hovering over her; that his influence was operating on her heart; that if she resisted him, she might be left to work out her own ruin!
Mary kneeled by her side, affectionately pressing her cheek to her cousin's wet one.
"Can't you tell me what it is?" she softly murmured.
"I—I don't feel well; I am not happy,—I can't say my prayers to-night."