Oh, that one particular sin! How it haunted her day and night, seeming so much larger than all the rest, and making her shrink away from Edith’s presence and cover her head with the bed-clothes, so as not to see the face bending so kindly over her. For many long years she had slighted the Holy Spirit, and trampled on her conscience, until it would almost seem that the one was hard as a rock and the other flown forever. But God’s mercy is infinite, and He was giving her another chance, and leading her back to Himself through the thorny path her own deeds had made for her feet to walk in. At last when she could bear the anguish no longer, and must speak to some one, she said to Gertie, who was sitting with her that night:
“Gertie, are you a Christian? Do you ever pray?”
The question was very abrupt, and Gertie’s face flushed, and she waited a little before answering:
“Yes, I pray, and hope I am a Christian in the sense you mean. And you are a Christian, too?” she added, after a pause; and Mrs. Barrett said quickly:
“No, never. There was nothing real; all was for effect, and now it is like so many scorpions stinging me to madness, and one act hurts me worse than all the rest. Gertie, if you had done something very wicked years ago, something which nobody in the wide world knew besides you, but which concerned another very, very much, what would you do? you, who pray and hope you are a Christian?”
Ordinarily Gertie would have thought herself too young and inexperienced to offer advice to one so much her senior, and whom she had believed so good a woman, but now words seemed put into her mouth, and she answered unhesitatingly:
“I should ask God to forgive me; and if the person so much concerned was within my reach I should confess it to him, I think.”
There was a bitter cry, and Gertie saw great drops of sweat on Mrs. Barrett’s brow as she moaned:
“Yes, that is it,—only I must reverse it. Confess to her first, and then I can dare to pray, which I cannot now. Oh, Gertie, Gertie,—never, never tell a lie as long as you live.”
She was very much excited, and seemed at times to be out of her head, and talked queer things of the blue-eyed baby, “the child who she thinks is dead.”