“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 tears, were ever before me; the repeated strokes of the hard ferule kept sounding in my ears.  At length, unable to endure it longer I left my bed, and sat down by the window.  The noble elms stood peacefully in the moonlight, the penciled shadow of their spreading branches lying tremulously on the ground.

“The white fence, the graveled walks, the perfect quietness in which everything was wrapped, seemed to mock my restlessness, while the solemn midnight sky filled me with a sense of awe which I never felt before.  Ah!  Bessie, God was displeased with me, my conscience was burdened and uneasy, and I was wretched.

“As I turned from the window, my eyes rested on the snow-white coverlet of my little bed, a birthday gift from my mother.  All her patient kindness, rushed upon my mind.  I felt her dying hand upon my head.  I listened once more to her trembling voice, as she fervently besought the blessing of heaven upon me:—­

“‘Oh, make her a truthful, holy child!’

“I tried to banish from my thoughts this last petition of my dying mother; but the more resolute was my purpose, the more distinctly did those pleading tones fall upon my heart, till, bowing upon the window, I wept convulsively.  But tears, Bessie, could give me no relief.

“My agony became every moment more intense, till at length, I rushed, almost in terror, to my father’s bedside.

“‘Father! father!’ but I could say no more.  Tenderly putting his arm around me, he laid my throbbing head upon his bosom; and there he gently soothed me, till I could so far control my sobbing, as to explain its cause.  Then how fervently did he plead with, heaven, that his sinning child might be forgiven!

“‘Dear father,’ said I, ‘will you go with me to-night to see poor Amy?’

“He answered, ‘To-morrow morning, my child.’

[Illustration:  “Dear Father, will you go with me to-night to see poor Amy?”]

“Delay was torture; but striving to suppress my disappointment, I received my father’s kiss and went back to my room.  But slumber still fled from my weary eyelids.

“My longing to beg Amy’s forgiveness amounted to frenzy; and after watching for the morning, for what seemed to me hours, my anguish became so intolerable that I fled once more to my father, and with tears streaming down my cheeks, I knelt by his side, beseeching him to go with me to Amy that moment; adding, in a whisper, ’She may die before she has forgiven me.’  He laid his hand upon my burning cheek, and after a moment’s thought, replied,