Lydia, though she was not always free from faults, was a child of remarkable honour; and could not bear the thoughts, in any way, of deceiving any one. She could not, therefore, suffer her Mamma to say she had been good all day, when she felt so conscious of the contrary; and went, as soon as she was dressed, to confess the whole truth. As she passed the window, she saw a lady, for whom she had a particular respect, coming in, and as she well knew, to breakfast with her Mamma. This was a sad mortification to her: however, she went on into her Mamma’s room, and upon being asked, what the dog barked at, told her Mamma, Miss Hipkins was come to breakfast with her. She then stood by the window considering how she should begin to speak to her Mamma. Her affectionate mother, having watched her countenance, said, You look grave and perplexed, Lydia; I suppose you are thinking of the journal; but do not be alarmed, my love, I have not one fault to mention, and Miss Hipkins will rejoice to hear you are grown so good a girl. O! Mamma! said the dear girl, I cannot deceive you, nor receive praises I do not deserve. She then told all that passed between her and Edwin in the garden.
I have been very naughty, Mamma, said Lydia, and I shall be very much ashamed to hear it told; but I should be still more ashamed to be fondled and commended, while I thought, that if you knew as much of me as I do of myself, you would behave in a very different manner to me. Her Mamma caught her in her arms in a transport of affection, and said, May God for ever bless you, my dear child; and preserve to you that sincerity and singleness of heart which are so precious in his sight! Look up, my love; I shall relate your fault; but the story of your voluntary confession will reflect more honour upon you, than if no fault had been committed: and every thing may be hoped of a young person with so noble a disposition.—Come, let us go down.
A few days after this amiable behaviour of Miss Lydia’s, her Mamma received a letter to appoint a day for the arrival of some company, who were to stay a fortnight, and whom Miss Lydia had never seen.
On the evening on which they were to come, Miss Lydia joined her Mamma as she was walking alone in the garden, and, after some hesitation, said, she had a favour to beg of her, which was, that no stories might be read about her while the company staid.
Mamma.
Why not, my dear?
Lydia.
If I should happen to be naughty, I shall be so ashamed to hear it told before strangers!
Mamma.
Then you will have an additional motive to be attentive to your conduct; and surely you would submit to any method that is likely to make you good.