"Bertie Sanderson! what a coincidence!"
The letter was as follows:—
NEW YORK, August 15, 18—.
My Dear Miss Etta,—I don't know how to write letters very well, but I must tell you something that is upon my mind. It is about Katie Robertson. You remember I told you she was a thief, and I told all the girls she was dishonest. I didn't know that she was; I only saw her find a fifty-dollar bill among the rags one day, and put it in her pocket. I didn't know what she did with it, and I didn't try to find out, because I was jealous and hated her. She used to tell me it was dishonest to break rules, and talk, and idle, when one was paid for working, and I felt kind of glad to think I had found her out in being dishonest too. I told the girls about it—not all, but just enough to make them think her a thief, because at first they all seemed to think so much more of her than they did of me, and I told you just the same thing when you asked me. I tried to tell father when he used to praise up Katie Robertson's independence and industry, and wish I would follow her example. You see, it was all because of her that he put me in the mill. But somehow I couldn't tell him. I was afraid.
You see, Miss Etta, I have been a very wicked girl, and when I got so sick I was afraid to die. I tried to think I hadn't told a lie, because I did see her find the money, and I didn't know what she had done with it; but I knew I had "borne false witness," and I hadn't "loved my neighbor as myself." I knew, too, that nobody could go to heaven with a heart full of malice and hatred, and I wanted to tell Katie all about it, and ask her to forgive me, and when I got wild I kept calling for her. Then she came and stayed and took such good care of me, I've been ashamed since I knew about it; but I didn't know her or any one then, only one day my wits seemed to come back to me and I told her all about it, and she explained so simply how she had found the money and taken it to Mr. James, and Mr. James had told her to keep it, that I saw in a moment that it was only because I wanted to think her bad that I didn't find out just how it was long before.
I felt so bad then, Miss Etta, because I thought I was surely dying, and going before God with all that unforgiven sin upon me, and Katie talked so sweetly about Jesus and his forgiveness and help that I thought I'd like to try. But then I didn't know anything for a long time till I woke up and found my aunt there, and they said I couldn't see Katie again, because she might get the fever or carry it to her brothers.
I was dreadfully unhappy, even after I came here, not only about this, but because of all the other bad things I've done all my life. I've been selfish and vain, and unkind and untruthful and dishonest, and I almost wished I had died when I was sick, only then I could not have gone to heaven, and I never could have cleared Katie.
Since I have been here I have been to church a good deal with my cousins, who are Congregationalists, and are both going to join the church. There is a daily service, and there have been a large number of conversions. I have talked a good deal with my aunt, and I really do want to commence over again and be a good girl. Aunt Anna says that Jesus died so that the very worst sinners might be forgiven, and I think he will forgive me. She wants me to stay and be received with her daughters here, but I'd rather join the dear church in Squantown, with the other girls, if you think I might.
But I want Katie and all the girls to know just how bad I have been and just how sorry I am. Please tell them all that I have said, and write and tell me if you think I might join the church, when I've been so wicked.
Give my best love to Miss Eunice and ask her to forgive me, too.