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.
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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