CHAPTER VIII.

THE SECRET OUT.

Many weary weeks dragged by. On one Saturday morning Susan and Florence were alone in their room.

Florence had been rearranging the furniture on her side of the apartment, and, among other changes, was attempting to move the bureau into a new position.

It was heavy and gave her trouble.

Susan saw her difficulty, and at first resolved not to aid her; but after a second or two, reproaching herself for such a feeling, she rose, and, going up to the bureau, took hold of one side of it without speaking.

Florence half pushed her away.

“I can do it alone!” she said, petulantly; and, giving it a violent shove, she succeeded in moving it; but off fell several boxes which had stood upon it.

She stooped to pick them up, taking a mahogany box first; but its top had been broken by the fall, and as she raised it the bottom dropped out and its contents were strewn over the floor.

A paper tied with blue ribbon was among them.

Susan snatched it. It was the prize-composition!

Florence said not a word. She looked at her companion with a glance full of hatred.

Susan did not heed it. She was too full of joy at this opportunity of freeing herself from suspicion to think of any thing else.

For an instant that it was found filled her thoughts; but then arose the question, “How came it locked up in Florence’s possession?” and the answer flashed upon her.

“You hid it yourself, Florence!” she exclaimed, eagerly.

The girl still said not a word. She only looked at her accuser; but such a look! Susan shuddered.

“You were willing to lose the prize for the sake of injuring me!” she said. “Oh, how you must hate me!”

“Hate you!” repeated Florence, through her shut teeth. “Yes, I hate you! But it is your turn now to triumph. Go and proclaim your discovery!”

“It is strange that you hate me so!” said Susan, with a sigh.

“You have treated me, ever since we met, with such unvarying kindness that it is ungrateful, I suppose. You have pointed out my faults in so sweet a spirit and tried so hard to make me better! It is strange that I do not love you!” said Florence, sneeringly.

Susan was speechless. There was a germ of truth in these words. Her conscience smote her.

But if she had erred in her conduct towards Florence, was that a sufficient excuse for all her unkindness,--for so contemptible a plot to injure her in the estimation of her schoolmates?

All that she had suffered rose before her,--her wretched days, her sleepless nights! All these she owed to Florence.

“It is only justice to myself to expose her,” she thought.

“Love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them which hate you; pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you,” came to her mind.

It was a terrible struggle, but a short one. She approached Florence and put the essay in her hand.

“Your secret is safe,” she said.

Florence was speechless with astonishment.

“What do you mean?” she asked, at last.

“I have wronged you,” said Susie. “I see it all now. I have been unkind to you from the first. Will you forgive me?”

Florence was confounded. She had held the paper doubtfully, as if hardly comprehending Susie’s intention, and distrusting her sincerity; but when she asked her forgiveness in tones of such humility she could doubt her no longer.

Tears rushed to her eyes.

“You ask me to forgive you!” she exclaimed, in a voice choked with emotion. “Oh, Susan!”

She could say no more. Sobs impeded her utterance.

Susan went up to her side and put her arm around her softly. This was more than Florence could bear. Such kindness quite overcame her.

“Oh, Susie, how can you forgive me?” she cried.

“‘Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,’” said her companion, softly. “If Jesus could die for me and loves me still when I so often forget him and all he has done for me, I ought at least not to be severe in my judgment of others. I often think of the parable of the debtor whom his lord forgave, and who went out and, forgetting his release, treated the man who owed him so harshly. I am too wicked, and need too much mercy myself, to be severe on others.”

“You wicked!” said Florence. “Then what am I?”

“And yet Jesus loves you,” said Susie.

They talked long and seriously, and Florence listened earnestly.

From that time the girls were firm friends. Florence wished to tell all her schoolmates of her injustice towards her room-mate; but Susie would not consent to this. She would only permit her to tell that the composition was found. Even Carrie knew nothing except this; and all supposed it had been mislaid.

Not long after this, as Susan, Florence and Carrie were walking in the grounds together, they went to the quiet nook which was Carrie’s favourite spot. Taking a little by-path, they wandered on, till suddenly they came upon Miss Forester, who was sitting on a log, reading.

The trees grew so thickly around her seat that they did not see her till they were close beside her.

Florence saw that the place was quite near “Lina’s Nook,” as they had named her favourite spot.

“This _is_ a pretty place,” said Susan, kindly.

“Yes,” replied Miss Forester. “I come here often. It is one of my favourite haunts.”

It flashed upon Florence in an instant that she it was who had been a spy on her interview with Carrie in the grounds after their visit to the study, and had been Mr. Worcester’s informant.

“You have acquired a great deal of useful information here, no doubt,” she said, a little sarcastically.

Miss Forester looked at her with a glance of keen intelligence.

“There _is_ a great deal to be learned, as you say, even in a quiet nook like this, if one keeps both eyes and ears open,” she replied, meaningly.

The girls passed on.

“The hateful old thing!” exclaimed Florence, indignantly.

“Hush! She will hear you,” said Carrie.

“I don’t care if she does! Listeners never hear any good of themselves; and she is no exception to the general rule. The old eaves-dropper! She deserves to be----”

“‘Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,’” said Susan, gently.

“I am not like you, Susie. I dare not say that yet.”

“I hope you will before long,” replied her friend.

“So do I,” said Florence, reverently.

The time came at last when Florence could say this; for Susan’s faithful and kind words were not lost. And never were there two happier beings than the cousins when, some months later, Florence told them, with happy tears glistening in her eyes, that she now understood what they meant by “loving Jesus.”

THE END.

PUBLICATIONS OF THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION.

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Biblical Antiquities.

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Lottie’s Thought-Book.

Beautifully illustrated with twenty-five elegant wood-cuts. 12mo, cloth, 50 cts.

Historical Tales for Young Protestants.

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Meat-Eaters.

With some Account of their Haunts and Habits. By the author of “Irish Amy,” etc. 12mo, cloth, twenty engravings. $1 00.

Jenny and the Insects.

Beautifully illustrated with seven highly-finished coloured engravings. Square 12mo, cloth, extra gilt. $2 00.

Pond Lily Stories.

By the author of “The Rutherford Children.” Beautifully illustrated with highly-finished coloured engravings. Square 12mo, cloth, extra gilt. $1 75.

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Sunday-School Teachers’ Bible Stories.

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The Life of Luther.

With Special Reference to its Earlier Periods and the Opening Scenes of the Reformation. By BARNAS SEARS, D.D. This is an original work, and written expressly for the American Sunday-School Union. 12mo, cloth, illustrated with steel and wood engravings, finished in the highest style of the art. $1 00.

New Union Bible Dictionary.

A new, improved and beautifully-illustrated edition of this popular and useful book has lately been published. It has been carefully revised, many articles abridged and new articles inserted. The type and page are larger, and the number of words greater, than in the former edition. It is illustrated with over two hundred new engravings, some of which are full-page size. 12mo, cloth, $1 25; large 18mo, 65 cts.

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The American Sunday-School and its Adjuncts.

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THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION HAS IN COURSE OF PREPARATION THE FOLLOWING NEW BOOKS.

I. Bessie Duncan; or, The First Year out of School.

II. Broken Cisterns; or, Lessons for Life, from the Story of Jessie Worthington.

III. The First Twenty Years of my Life.

IV. Little Freddy, the Runaway.

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VI. Leaves from the Tree of Life.

VII. The Little Herdsman. By the author of “Grandfather Merrie.”

VIII. Sunday all the Week. Beautifully illustrated.

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X. Carrie’s School-Days; or, Principle Put to the Test.

XI. Margaret Forbes; or, Bread found after Many Days.

XII. The Stain upon the Hand.

XIII. Chloe Lankton; or, Light beyond the Cloud.

XIV. Hans and his Northern Home.

XV. The Master-Key; or, The Way to Human Hearts.

XVI. The Working-Boy’s Sunday Improved.

XVII. Ellen Mordaunt; or, The Fruits of True Religion.

XVIII. Evelyn Grey; or, Flowers Thrive in Sunshine.

XIX. Over the Sea; or, Letters from an Officer in India to his Children at Home.

XX. Sunday Sunshine; New Hymns and Poems for the Young.

XXI. Masters and Workmen: A Tale for the Times.

XXII. Fourteen Ways of Studying the Bible.

XXIII. Charlie Grant; or, How to do Right.

XXIV. Ears of the Spiritual Harvest; or, Narratives of the Christian Life.

XXV. The Right Choice; or, The Difference between Worldly Diversions and Rational Recreations.

XXVI. The Little Guide, and Adrighoole; or, How to be Happy.

XXVII. Nature’s School; or, Lessons in the Garden and the Field.

XXVIII. The Bridge Over the Brook.

Transcriber’s Note:

Spelling, hyphenation and punctuation have been retained as they appear in the original publication. Changes have been made as follows:

Page 15 Carlo scampered on ahead _changed to_ Carrie scampered on ahead