IX.
_A GUILTY CONSCIENCE._
If Gracie had been an unhappy and miserable child before, what wasshe now with all this load upon her conscience? For even pride andself-conceit could not attempt to justify such a deed. Jealousy hada good deal to say; and she tried to listen to that, and to believealso that she was not really to blame: she had been forced into it;she could not betray Hattie, who had done this from love to her. Butshe was more wretched than it would be easy to tell; and she wasbeginning to feel such a contempt for her chosen friend that this alsowas a sore spot in her heart. Day by day she was learning that therewas nothing true or honorable or upright about Hattie. She hardlyeven seemed to think it much harm to tell a falsehood, or appearedashamed when she was found out; and for some days she had had a growingfeeling that it was not pleasant to have a friend with the characterof a "story-teller," which Hattie now bore among her school-fellows.And Gracie; was she not just as bad, perhaps even worse? For Graciehad been taught all the value and beauty of truth, and had never tillnow wilfully fallen away from it; but she knew that the worth of thatjewel was not much considered in Hattie's home, and so it had lost itspreciousness in her eyes.
Miss Ashton, too, knew this; and so she was less severe with Hattiethan she might have been with another child who had a better exampleand more encouragement to do right in this particular.
Lily, in her plain speaking, would probably have called Mr. and Mrs.Leroy by the same uncomplimentary name she had given to Mr. Raymond;for the same foolish system of management was carried on in theirfamily. Probably they would have been much shocked to hear it saidthat they taught the lesson of deceit; but was it to be expected thatHattie could have much regard for the truth when she heard herself andher brothers and sisters threatened with punishments, which were not,perhaps could not be carried out; when promises were made to them whichwere not kept; when they were frightened by tales of bears, wolves, andold black men, and such things which had no existence?
"Willie, your mamma said she would send you to bed if you went there,"was said to little Willie Leroy one day.
"Oh, I'm not afraid," answered Willie, contemptuously. "Mamma neverdoes what she says;" and off he ran to the forbidden spot, his wordsproving quite true, although his mamma heard that he had disobeyed herso deliberately.
"Is your mother going to make you something for the fair?" Hattie wasasked by one of her schoolmates.
"She says so; but I don't know if she will," was the answer.
Hattie's was not the simple faith of "Mamma says so," so sweet inlittle children. Mamma might or might not do as she had said she would,according to the convenience of the moment.
So it was no marvel that Hattie thought it no great harm to escapepunishment or gain some fancied good by stretching the truth, oreven telling a deliberate falsehood; or that, having a great love oftalking, a story should outgrow its true dimensions in her hands;or that she did not see what was honest and upright as well as somechildren.
But with Gracie Howard it was very different.
Truth, and truth before all things, was the motto in her home, thelesson which from her babyhood had been taught to her by precept andby example; and the conscience which, in Hattie, was so easily put tosleep, would not let her rest. In vain did jealousy and ambition try toreconcile her to the act of dishonesty and meanness into which she hadallowed herself to be drawn; in vain did she argue with herself that"it was all Hattie's fault;" she could not betray Hattie when she haddone this just for her; or "there was no way of putting the mat backnow; she could not help herself." Gracie sinned with her eyes open, andher conscience all alive to the wickedness of which she was guilty.
But her stubborn pride was beginning to give way in one point; for shehad no mind to "lose the fun of the fair," as Hattie said,--though eventhe fair had lost some of its attraction with this weight upon herconscience,--and she resolved to send for her mother, and tell her shewould ask Miss Ashton's pardon.
So when the long, weary afternoon had worn away, and Mrs. Howard camehome, Gracie rang the bell, and sent a message begging her mother tocome to her.
Mamma came thankfully; but one look at her little daughter's face wasenough to convince her that she was in no softened mood, in no gentleand humbled spirit. It was with a sullen and still half-defiant mannerthat Gracie offered to do what was required of her; and her mothersaw that it was fear of farther punishment, and not real sorrow andrepentance, which moved her.
"I suppose I ought not to have spoken so, mamma," she answered, whenher mother asked her if she did not see how very naughty she had been;"but Miss Ashton is so unjust, and Nellie provokes me so."
"How is Miss Ashton unjust?" asked Mrs. Howard.
Gracie fidgeted and pouted, knowing that her mother would not bewilling to accept the charges she was ready to bring.
"She's always praising Nellie for every thing she does, mamma; and inthese days she never gives me one word of praise, even when every onehas to see that I do the best. And--and--I b'lieve she tries to makeme miss, so Nellie can go above me in the classes."
"Gracie," said her mother, "you know that that last accusation isuntrue. As for the first, if Miss Ashton is sparing of her praise, mydaughter, it is because she knows it is hurtful to you. Nellie is atimid child, trying to do her best, but with little confidence in herown powers; and praise, while it encourages and helps her to persevere,does not make her vain or conceited. But Miss Ashton sees that thatwhich is needful for Nellie is hurtful to you; for it only increasesyour foolish vanity and self-esteem, and it is for your own good thatshe gives you a smaller share. You have, unhappily, so good an opinionof yourself, Gracie, that praise not only makes you disagreeable, butdisposes you to take less trouble to improve yourself. Let me hearno more of Miss Ashton's injustice. When you deserve it, or it doesnot hurt you, Miss Ashton is as ready to give praise to you as sheis to another. You say you are willing to ask her pardon for yourimpertinence; but I fear that you do not really see your fault."
"Are you not going to let me come out, then, mamma?"
"Yes, since you promise to do as I say; but I fear you are in no properspirit, Gracie, and that you will fall into further trouble unless youbecome more submissive and modest."
"Hattie was here this afternoon, mamma," said Gracie, as she followedher mother from the room.
"So I understood," said Mrs. Howard, who had been waiting for theconfession, having been informed of the circumstance by the servant.
"I left my mat in school yesterday," said Gracie, "and she thought Iwould want it, and came to bring it back."
She spoke in a low tone and with downcast eyes; for Gracie was sounused to deceit that she could not carry it out boldly, as a morepractised child might have done.
Something in her manner struck her mother, who turned and looked ather.
"Did Hattie bring you any message from Miss Ashton?" she asked.
"No, mamma: she only came about the mat; and she begged me to ask MissAshton's pardon," answered Gracie with the same hesitation.
But her mother only thought that the averted face and drooping lookwere due to the shame which she felt at meeting the rest of the familyafter her late punishment and disgrace.
"I told Hattie you would not wish her to stay with me, mamma; but shewould not go right away, but I would not let her stay very long."
"I am glad you were so honest, dear," said Mrs Howard.
Honest! Gracie knew how little she deserved such a character, and hermother's praise made her feel more guilty than ever.
She was received with open arms by the other children; for Gracie wasthe eldest of the flock, and, in spite of her self-conceit, she was akind little sister, and the younger ones quite shared her own opinion,thinking no child so good and wise as their Gracie. And they had missedher very much; so now they all treated her as if she had been ill orabsent, and made much of her.
But for once Gracie could not enjoy this, and it only seemed to makeher feel more ashamed and guilty. Wha
t would mamma say, what would allsay if they only knew?
Mrs. Howard had told Gracie that she might either go to school earlyin the morning and make her apology to Miss Ashton before the otherscholars came, or she might write to her this evening, and send thenote to her teacher.
Gracie had chosen to do the last; but when the younger children hadgone to bed, and she tried to write the note, she found she could notbring her mind to it. Her conscience was so troubled, and her thoughtsso full of her guilty secret, that the words she needed would not cometo her; and as her mother saw her sitting with her elbows upon thetable, biting the end of her pencil or scrawling idly over her blotterand seeming to make no progress at all, she believed, and with reason,that Gracie was not truly repentant for what she had done, and hadonly promised to beg Miss Ashton's pardon in order that she might bereleased from the imprisonment of which she had tired. Gracie was notusually at a loss for ideas or words where she had any thing to write.
"I can't do it," she said pettishly at last, pushing paper and pencilfrom her. "I s'pose I'll have to go to Miss Ashton in the morning, andI b'lieve I'll go to bed now. Good-night, mamma."
And Gracie went to her room, wishing to escape from her own thoughts,and bring this miserable day to a close as soon as possible.
But the next morning it was no better; and now it seemed harder to goto Miss Ashton and speak than it would be to write. But it was too latenow: she had no time to compose a note, "make it up" as she would havesaid, and to copy it before school, and she must abide by her choiceof the previous night.
She started early for school, according to her mother's desire, withmany charges from her to remember how grievously she had offended MissAshton, and to put away pride and self-conceit and make her apology ina proper spirit.
Had there not been that guilty secret fretting at Gracie's heart, shemight have been induced to be more submissive; but, as it was, she feltso unhappy that it only increased her reluctance to make amends to MissAshton and acknowledge how wrong she had been.
She asked for her teacher at once when she reached the house, anxiousto "have it over;" and, when the young lady appeared, blurted out, "Ibeg your pardon, Miss Ashton."
Miss Ashton sat down, and, taking Gracie's half-reluctant hand, drewher kindly towards her.
"It is freely granted, my dear," she said. "And are you truly sorry,Gracie?"
Gracie fidgeted and wriggled uneasily; but we who know what she haddone can readily believe that it was more pride than a strict love ofthe truth which led her to say to herself that she was "not sorry," and"she could not tell a story by saying so."
"I beg your pardon, ma'am, and I won't do so again," she repeated,seeing that Miss Ashton waited for her answer.
Miss Ashton did not wish to force her to say that which she did notfeel, and she saw that it was of no use to argue with her in herpresent stubborn mood; but she talked quietly and kindly to her,setting before her the folly and the wrong of the self-love and vanitywhich were ruling her conduct, and day by day spoiling all that wasgood and fair in her character.
"See what trouble they have brought you into now, Gracie," she said;"and unless you check them in time, my child, they will lead you deeperinto sin. I scarcely know you for the same little girl who first cameto me, so much have these faults grown upon you; and they are fastdestroying all the affection and confidence of your school-fellows.Why, Gracie, I have heard one little girl say that 'Gracie thought somuch of herself that it sometimes made her forget to be very true.'"
Gracie started. Was this the character her self-love was earning forher? she who desired to stand so high in all points with the world.
Ah! but it was for the praise of man, and not for the honor and gloryof God that Gracie strove to outshine all others; and she walked by herown strength, and the poor, weak prop must fail her and would lay herlow.
"Forget to be very true!"
How far she had done this, even Miss Ashton did not dream; but itseemed to Gracie that she had chosen her words to give her the deepestthrust, and she bowed her head in shame and fear.
But Miss Ashton, knowing nothing of what was passing in that guiltyyoung heart, was glad to see this, and believed that her words wereat last making some impression on Gracie, and that she was takingher counsel and reproof in a different spirit from that in which shegenerally received them.
Strange to say, in all the miserable and remorseful thoughts which hadmade her wretched since yesterday afternoon, it had not once enteredher mind how she was to face Nellie when the poor child should makeknown the misfortune which had befallen her.
One by one the children came in, and how awkward Gracie felt in meetingthem may readily be imagined by any one who has suffered from somesimilar and well-merited disgrace. Still she tried, as she whisperedto Hattie she should do, to "behave as if nothing had happened;" andwhen little Belle, after looking at her wistfully for a moment as ifundecided how to act, came up and kissed her, saying, "I'm glad to seeyou, Gracie," she answered rather ungraciously, "I'm sure it's notso very long since you saw me," and sent the dear little girl awayfeeling very much rebuffed.
And yet she really felt Belle's innocent friendliness, and her sweetattempt to make her welcome and at her ease; but pride would not lether show it.
Nellie was one of the last to arrive, and her troubled and woe-begoneface startled Gracie and smote her to the heart.
"Such a dreadful thing has happened to me," said Nellie, when she wasquestioned by the other children; and the tears started to her eyesafresh as she spoke.
"What is it? What is it?" asked a number of eager voices.
"I don't know how it can have happened," said Nellie, hardly able tospeak for the sobs she vainly tried to keep back. "I have been so, socareful; but there is an ugly spot like ink or something on my mat.I can't think how it ever came there, for I put it in my desk verycarefully when school began yesterday, and did not take it out till Igot home, and I did not know there was any ink near it. But when Iunrolled it last evening the stain was there, and mamma thinks it isink, and she cannot get it out. And I've taken such pains to keep themat clean and nice."
And here poor Nellie's voice broke down entirely, while Gracie, feelingas if her self-command, too, must give way, opened her desk and put herhead therein, with a horrible choking feeling in her throat.
"We'll all tell Mrs. Howard it came somehow through not any fault ofyours," said Lily. "Never mind, Nellie, yours is the best mat, anyhow:we all know it;" and Lily cast a defiant and provoking glance atGracie, which was quite lost upon the latter.
Lily had suggested on the day before, that when Gracie came back toschool they should "all behave just as if nothing had happened," justwhat Gracie intended to do; but generous Lily had said it in quite adifferent spirit from that in which Gracie proposed it to herself.
But Gracie's rebuff to Belle, and the seeming indifference withwhich she treated Nellie's misfortune, roused Lily's indignation oncemore; for she thought, as did many of the other children, that Graciedid not feel sorry for Nellie's trouble, since it gave her the greaterchance of having her own work pronounced the best.
"Yes, we will tell Mrs. Howard," said Dora Johnson: "yours was reallythe best mat of all, though Gracie's was almost as nice; and we willtell her something happened to it that you could not help, and perhapsshe will not mind it."
"Perhaps a vase standing on it would cover the spot," said LauraMiddleton.
Nellie shook her head.
"No," she said, "that would not make it any better. Mrs. Howard saidthat the best and neatest mat must take the highest premium, and mineis not the neatest now. I wouldn't feel comfortable to do any thingthat was not quite fair, even if you all said I might."
"That was not quite fair!"
More and more ashamed, and feeling how far behind Nellie left her inhonesty and fairness, Gracie still sat fumbling in her desk, lookingfor nothing.
"Well," said Dora, "we'll speak to Mrs. Howard about it, and see whatshe says: won't we,
Gracie?"
Gracie muttered something which might mean either yes or no.
"Augh!" said Lily, "what do you talk to that proudy about it for? Shedon't care a bit. I b'lieve she's just glad and wouldn't help Nellie ifshe could."
Gracie made no answer: she was too miserable for words or to think ofanswering Lily's taunts, and she would have given up all thought ofhaving any thing to do with the fair to have had Nellie's mat safely inher possession once more. Oh, if she had never yielded to temptation orto Hattie's persuasions!
"How you do act!" whispered Hattie to Gracie. "If you don't take carethey will suspect something."
"I can't help it," returned Gracie in the same tone: "it is such anawful story that we have told."
"It is not a story," said Hattie; "we've neither of us said one wordabout the mat."
This was a new view of the matter; but it brought no comfort toGracie's conscience She knew that the acted deceit was as bad as thespoken one, perhaps in this case even worse.
She felt as if she could not bear this any longer, as if she musttell, must confess what she had done; and yet--how? How could shelower herself so in the eyes of her schoolmates? she who had alwaysheld herself so high, been so scornful over the least meanness,equivocation, or approach to falsehood!
A more wretched little girl than Gracie was that morning it would havebeen hard to find; but her teacher and schoolmates thought her wantof spirit arose from the recollection of her late naughtiness and thefeeling of shame, and took as little notice of it as possible.
And Lily, repenting of her resentment when she saw how dull andmiserable Gracie seemed, threw her arms about her neck as they wereleaving school, and said, "Please forgive me my provokingness thismorning, Gracie. I ought to be ashamed, and I am."
But Gracie could not return, scarcely suffer, the caress, and dared nottrust herself to speak, as she thought how furious Lily's indignationwould be if she but knew the truth.
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