my was disgraced, and I stood proudly at the
head of my class, but I was not happy.

"When school was dismissed, I pretended to have lost something, and
lingered in the hall. I heard the teacher say,--

"'Amy, come here,' and then I caught the light footsteps of the gentle
child.

"'How could you tell that lie?'

"'Miss R--- I did not tell a lie,' but even as she denied it, I could
see through the keyhole that in her grief at the charge, and her dread
of punishment, she stood trembling like a culprit.

"'Hold out your hand.'

"There I stood, as if spellbound. Stroke after stroke of the hard ferule
I heard fall upon the small white hand of the innocent child. You may
well hide your eyes from me, Bessie. Oh, why did I not speak? Every
stroke went to my heart, but I would not confess my sin, and so I stole
softly from the door.

[Illustration: _"Miss R--- I did not tell a lie."_]

"As I lingered on the way, Amy walked slowly along, with her books in
one hand, while with the other she kept wiping away the tears, which
would not yet cease to flow. Her sobs, seeming to come from a breaking
heart, sank deep into my own.

"As she walked on, weeping, her foot stumbled, and she fell, and her
books were scattered on the ground. I picked them up and handed them to
her. Turning toward me her soft blue eyes swimming in tears, in the
sweetest tones, she said,--

"'I thank you, Ruth.'

"It made my guilty heart beat faster, but I would not speak; so we went
on silently together.

"When I reached home, I said to myself, 'what is the use, nobody knows
it, and why should I be so miserable?' I resolved to throw off the hated
burden, and, going into the pleasant parlor, I talked and laughed as if
nothing were the matter. But the load on my poor heart only grew the
heavier.

"I needed no one, Bessie, to reprove me for my cruel sin. The eye of God
seemed consuming me. But the worse I felt, the gayer I seemed; and more
than once I was checked for my boisterous mirth, while tears were
struggling to escape.

"At length I went to my room. I could not pray, and so hurrying to bed,
I resolutely shut my eyes. But sleep would not come to me. The ticking
of the old clock in the hall seemed every moment to grow louder, as if
reproaching me; and when it slowly told the hour of midnight, it smote
upon my ear like a knell.

"I turned and turned upon my little pillow, but it was filled with
thorns. Those sweet blue eyes, swimming in tea