_THE OFFENCE GIVEN._
THE next day, and the next, Fanny went up to the spring and down to the
grove, but she could see nothing of Sarah.
The next afternoon she was sent on an errand to the Corners. She went
"'cross-lots," as they say; and passing the end of Sam Leyman's garden,
she saw Sarah sitting at work on the back doorstep and called to her.
"Is that you, Fanny?" exclaimed Sarah, jumping up and coming to meet
Fanny with an expression of real pleasure on her face. "Where are you
going?"
"Over to the Corners for grandma. Don't you want to go with me?"
"I am afraid Mrs. Lilly wouldn't like it," said Sarah, hesitating in a
way very unusual with her.
"Seems to me you have taken a very sudden fit of goodness," said Fanny,
not at all pleased. "I wonder how long you have been so particular?
Ever since you went to meeting the other night, I suppose. But do come
a little way with me. I want to see you ever so much."
"Well, I don't care."
"I went down to the grove yesterday on purpose to find you," said
Fanny, in rather an injured tone, as they walked across the pasture
together. "I thought you would certainly be there. Why didn't you come?"
"Well, for two or three reasons; I was busy at home, for one thing,
mending and washing Ally's clothes, and trying to patch up some of my
own old frocks, so as to be a little more decent. And besides, Fanny,
to tell you the truth, I thought it would be rather mean after your
grandma spoke to me so kindly Sunday night."
"Oh yes; very kindly indeed—to your face," said Fanny, sneeringly.
"What do you mean?" asked Sarah.
"Oh, nothing—only Oney said she wondered what had brought 'that' Sarah
Leyman to meeting, and grandma said she presumed you had only come to
make fun of everything and everybody, and she thought you had better
stay away, at least till you had something decent to wear."
"Did Mrs. Lilly say that?" asked Sarah, in a low tone.
"She said a great deal more than that," replied Fanny, "and so did
the rest of the people?" And she proceeded to repeat a number of
contemptuous speeches which she professed to have overheard, till she
was stopped by Sarah's throwing herself on the ground and bursting out
into a passionate fit of crying.
"What is the matter?" asked Fanny, surprised and rather alarmed at the
storm she had raised. "What are you crying about?"
"I don't care so much for the rest of them," said Sarah, sitting up
with her black eyes flashing through her tears. "But Mrs. Lilly that I
thought was so good, and that spoke to me so kindly! I don't care; I
never will believe in anybody's goodness again. Fanny, are you telling
me the truth? Was your grandma really so mean and wicked as that?"
"I don't see anything so mean and wicked," said Fanny, rather scared,
but not at all understanding Sarah's state of mind. "She said what she
thought, I suppose."
"When did she say what she thought, when she was telling me to my face
that she was glad to see me and hoped I would come again, or when she
was talking against me behind my back, and saying she should think I
would be ashamed to show myself? Come now, Fanny! She did not really
say all that. You are making it up to tease me, I know."
"You can ask Willy, for he heard her," said Fanny, determined to stand
her ground, but beginning to wish she had not said anything.
"I have a great mind to go and ask Mrs. Lilly herself," said Sarah.
"You will get into a scrape if you do, I can tell you," said Fanny,
knowing that if Sarah and her grandmother came together, they would
soon arrive at an understanding. "Grandma knows that it was you who let
out the bull."
"It was 'not' me!" exclaimed Sarah, indignantly. "I 'never' leave the
bars down, and hardly ever go through them, and I had not seen the bull
that day."
"Well, anyhow, she thinks you did, and she is very angry about it. She
said if she caught you, she would have you sent where you would be
taken care of and kept out of mischief. And Mrs. Crane said you would
be a great deal better off in the asylum, and that grandma would be
doing a good turn to everybody."
"I should like to see them put me in the asylum!" exclaimed Sarah. "I
never will go there. I will kill myself or somebody else first." And
down went her head on the grass again in a tempest of grief and anger.
"I don't believe there is one single good person in all the world,"
she said, through her sobs. "I wonder whether there is anything good
anywhere? If it wasn't for poor Ally, I would go and jump into Pope's
hole this very day, and so be dead and buried at the same time."
Ally was Sarah's younger sister, and her special pet.
"I wonder if Aunt Sally was just such a hypocrite as your grandmother?"
continued Sarah, with a fresh burst of grief. "I wonder if all her
goodness was just lies and pretence?"
"You shall not call my grandmother a hypocrite, Sarah Leyman; I should
think you would be ashamed." And then Fanny stopped suddenly, for it
occurred to her that it was herself who had given her grandmother such
a character, and not Sarah. She could not in the least understand the
cause of Sarah's excessive grief, and thought she was only angry at
being laughed at.
"Oh come, never mind," said she, presently. "Why, it isn't anything so
very dreadful; and besides, if you want to come to meeting, you can
come, for all them."
"I shall never come again, never," said Sarah, sitting up and wiping
her eyes. "I did think that night I would try to be a Christian. I made
up my mind to it; I have said my prayers ever since, and I was going to
ask you to give me or lend me a Testament to read myself and to teach
Ally out of. Father won't have a Bible in the house, if he knows it,
but I would keep it hidden away where he could not find it. But it is
all over now. There is no use in trying."
The tone of hopeless despair in which Sarah said these words made its
way even into Fanny's blunt feelings. She began to feel a little sorry
for what she had done.
"Oh, I wouldn't say so," said she; "I wouldn't give it all up for
that—just because grandma isn't perfect. Just keep on and be good all
the same. I do."
"You do!—You!" said Sarah, in a tone of contemptuous wonder. "Fanny
Lilly, do you really think you are a good girl?"
Her tone and words made Fanny wince, but she stood her ground.
"Why, yes, I do," she replied. "I read my Bible and say my prayers
every day, and I have been reading ever so many good books. I learned
two hymns only yesterday. If that isn't being a good girl—"
"Well, it isn't—not according to my notion," said Sarah. "That would
not be my way of being good. Fanny," she added, with sudden energy, "if
you tell me that all you have said is just made up to tease me, I will
be your friend for ever, and I will do anything in the world for you. I
don't care; I mean to ask Mrs. Lilly about it, anyhow."
"Well, you can do as you please, of course," said Fanny, affecting an
unconcern which she by no means felt. "I shouldn't think you would like
to be taken and shut up with all those poorhouse children, and never
see Ally nor anybody again, but if you do, I don't know why I need
care. I went to see the asylum with grandma, and it did not look very
pleasant, I tell you."
The asylum spoken of by Fanny was one for poor children which had been
established at R— by the joint efforts of two counties. The children of
paupers were carried to this asylum instead of the poorhouse, and were
taught and cared for.
"Besides, I shouldn't know whether she told the truth or not if she
spoke ever so kindly to me," said Sarah. "I shall never know whether
anybody is true again, or anything, for that matter. Well, let it go. I
dare say it is all nonsense, as pa says, and that nobody cares whether
we are good or bad. Come, tell me the news. What has happened?"
"Nothing very particular that I know of, only old Mrs. Cassell and her
granddaughter and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon are coming up to our house to
spend the day on Wednesday, and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon are going to stay
for a visit. Oney is making all kinds of nice things. Oh, by the way,
Sarah, I want that volume of Mr. Brandon's travels that I lent you.
Willy has been hunting the house over for it."
"I'll get it when I go home," said Sarah. "He's another, I suppose."
"Another what?" asked Fanny.
"Another of the hypocrites," said Sarah.
"I didn't know he pretended to be anything so very good."
"Don't he? I met him up on the mountain last week. He was looking for
wild flowers, and I showed him some kinds he had never seen before; and
didn't he talk 'good'? I thought he was a wicked young man before, and
so I told him."
"Oh, Sarah, you never told Mr. Brandon all that stuff?"
"Yes, I did; and he only laughed and said, 'Don't be in such a hurry to
believe evil of people you don't know, my girl. Anybody as bright as
you ought to have something better to think about than idle, gossiping
stories.' And then I told him I was reading his book, but I couldn't
understand it very well. Oh, we had a real nice talk, I can tell you.
But I dare say he is all humbug, like the rest of them. Annie Cassell
is a cunning little thing, though. You bring her up to the spring, and
we will have a real nice time."
"I don't suppose grandma will let me," said Fanny.
"You needn't tell her all about it, you goose. Just tell her you want
to show Annie the spring. There is no harm in that."
"I don't know about it."
"If you don't, I will just come down to the house and ask to see you,
and tell your grandma you promised to come and bring Annie with you."
"You wouldn't tell such a lie?" said Fanny, alarmed.
"You'll see," was the answer. "Why shouldn't I tell lies as well as
other folks? Just as sure as you don't come, I will come down to the
house and ask for you. You needn't be afraid. You don't suppose I want
to hurt the child, do you?"
"No; of course not. Well, I will come if I can."
When Fanny reached home, she went to find her grandmother, who was in
the dairy. The truth was, she had seen Willy in the field, and was
by no means sure that he had not seen her walking with Sarah. So she
meant to be beforehand with him, in case he should have any intention
of telling of her. So first putting Mr. Brandon's book down behind the
parlour table that it might have the appearance of having fallen by
accident, she went into the milkroom, where Mrs. Lilly was working over
her butter—an operation which she always performed herself if possible.
"Grandma," said she, "I met Sarah Leyman at the Corners; and she walked
over home with me. I couldn't get rid of her without being rude, and I
knew you wouldn't want me to hurt her feelings."
"Of course not," said Mrs. Lilly, feeling pleased that Fanny should
come to her so frankly. "Don't be unkind to her in any way. How did she
seem to feel?"
"Oh, just as usual," said Fanny. "She says she thinks all religious
people are hypocrites alike."
"I wonder whether she thinks her aunt Sally was one?" said Mrs. Lilly.
"I asked her that, and she said she didn't remember much about her, but
she didn't believe there was much to choose."
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Lilly, sighing.
"Well, I suppose one ought to be sorry for her, and yet I could not
help being angry," said Fanny. "I told her she ought to be ashamed,
but she went on worse than ever. I do believe she will make fun of
anything. I never heard her so bad as she was to-day."
"That may be only a sign that her heart is touched," said Mrs. Lilly.
"She may be trying to silence her conscience. Those have a great deal
to answer for who have brought her up in such a way."
"Yes, indeed," said Oney, who had just come in with her hands full of
cake warm from the oven. "'Whoso shall offend one of these little ones,
it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and
that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.' I wouldn't like to have
the responsibility that rests on that girl's father and mother."
"I hoped for better things from seeing Sarah at the meeting," said Mrs.
Lilly, "but Fanny tells me she only makes fun of the whole thing. But
it may be only that she is trying to put down conviction in her own
mind. You must be very careful what you say to her, Fanny. I wish I
could get a chance for a quiet talk with her."
"Has Willy found that book yet?" asked Fanny, feeling very
uncomfortable, and wishing to change the subject before anything else
was said.
"No, not yet; I can't think what has become of it," replied Mrs. Lilly.
"I hope it is not lost."
"I believe I will go and take a look for it; perhaps I may find it in
some place Willy has overlooked," said Fanny. "I am pretty good at
finding things."
"Do, my dear, and dust the books in the parlour at the same time. And,
Fanny, you may get out all the Indian curiosities, and arrange them;
they will help to amuse Annie."
Fanny dusted and arranged and put everything in nice order, trying to
become so much interested in her work as not to think of anything else,
for the words of Oney rang in her ears very uncomfortably. "Whosoever
offendeth one of these little ones—" Fanny thought that did not sound
quite right, and she opened the book to see.
"Whoso shall offend one of these little ones which 'believe' in 'me,—'"
That did not mend the matter, and she shut the book and laid it down
as if it burned her fingers. Was not this just what, she had done? Had
she not offended Sarah just as she was beginning to believe? Had she
not done her best to prevent her from taking another step in that path
which the poor girl was just trying to enter—the path which led to
safety, to happiness and salvation? Suppose Sarah should never repent
and become a Christian, whose would be the fault?
"Well, I couldn't help it," said Fanny to herself. "I couldn't have her
coming up here and talking to grandma, and telling her everything, as I
am sure she would the very first thing if grandma coaxed her a little.
I don't see how I can help going to the spring to-morrow, either, but
I must be sure and make Annie promise not to tell. Tiresome little
torment! I wish she wasn't coming at all. I dare say she will get me
into some scrape or other."
Fanny busied herself till tea-time with the books and curiosities, and
in unpacking her doll and its clothes, which had remained in their box
ever since she left home. When Oney called her to supper, she came into
the kitchen, holding up the missing book in triumph.
"See what I have found," said she.
"Oh, Mr. Brandon's book! How glad I am!" exclaimed Willy, with
sparkling eyes. "Where did you find it? I have hunted all over for it."
"It was behind the table in the parlour," said Fanny. "You couldn't
have looked very sharp, Willy."
Willy looked as if he did not know how to believe his ears.
"Why, Fanny!" he exclaimed. "I don't see how that can be. I moved the
table and looked behind it this very morning, and I am sure the book
was not there then, or I would have seen it."
"I am sure it was," answered Fanny, positively. "I found it when I
was dusting the parlour. I happened to think I would move out the
table, and down fell the book directly. So you see, Willy, you must be
mistaken."
"Perhaps you only thought you would move it, or you might not have
moved it far enough," said Mrs. Lilly. "Never mind; I am glad the book
is found."
"Well, if that isn't the strangest thing, I wouldn't say so," said
Willy to Oney when they were alone together. "Oney, I know just as well
as I know anything that the book was not there this morning. I pulled
the table clear away from the wall, and looked behind it and under the
cloth and everywhere."
"So did I," said Oney. "I am sure that it was not there."
"Then why didn't you say so?" asked Willy, a little vexed.
"Because I am an Indian, and know how to hold my tongue—a thing which I
sometimes think white folks never learn," said Oney, smiling. "Where's
the use in making a fuss?"
"But Fanny is so awful deceitful," said Willy; "I do think Mrs. Lilly
ought to know."
"Oh, she'll find out, never you fear," replied Oney; "and I would
rather she found out of herself, without any help of mine. You see,
Fanny is playing 'good' just now, and the old lady thinks she is just
right. I have given her two or three hints, but she would not hear, and
the other day she as much as told me she was afraid I was jealous of
Fanny. So I made up my mind to let matters alone, and you had better do
the same."