was over she began to repent, and that she has gone on
repenting ever since, which has accounted for her poor sad little face
and white cheeks. Of course she longed to tell--Nora and Phyllis have
told me so--but she would not betray them. Now at last there is a load
off her heart, and, though she is in great disgrace and punishment, she
is not very unhappy. I went to see her an hour ago, and I saw in her face
that my own darling Annie has returned. But what do you think Mrs. Willis
does, Hester? She is so hurt and disappointed, that she believes Annie is
guilty of the other thing--she believes that Annie stole Dora's theme,
and that she caricatured her in my book some time ago. She believes
it--she is sure of it. Now, do you think, Hester, that Annie's face would
look quite peaceful and happy to-night if she had only confessed half her
faults--if she had this meanness, this sin, these lies still resting on
her soul? Oh! I wish Mrs. Willis would see her! I wish--I wish! but I can
do nothing. You agree with me, don't you, Hester? Just put yourself in
Annie's place, and tell me if _you_ would feel happy, and if your heart
would be at rest, if you had only confessed half your sin, and if through
you all your schoolfellows were under disgrace and suspicion? You could
not, could you, Hester? Why, Hester, how white you are!"

"You are so metaphysical," said Hester, rising; "you quite puzzle me. How
can I put myself in your friend Annie's place? I never understood her--I
never wanted to. Put myself in her place?--no, certainly that I'm never
likely to. I hope that I shall never be in such a predicament."

Hester walked away, and Cecil sat still in great perplexity.

Cecil was a girl with a true sense of religion. The love of God guided
every action of her simple and straightforward life. She was neither
beautiful nor clever; but no one in the school was more respected and
honored, no one more sincerely loved. Cecil knew what the peace of God
meant, and when she saw even a shadowy reflection of that peace on
Annie's little face, she was right in believing that she must be innocent
of the guilt which was attributed to her.

The whole school assembled for prayers that night in the little chapel,
and Mr. Everard, who had heard the story of that day's confession from
Mrs. Willis, said a few words appropriate to the occasion to the unhappy
young girls.

Whatever effect his words had on the others, and they were very simple
and s