Before many days the children had learned that Miss Lane intended to be
obeyed; so the idea of resisting her authority gradually faded out of
their minds, if they had ever entertained it. She went about her duties
in her quiet, graceful way, showing in every action that she worked for
God, and made the thought of her accountability to Him the rule of her
life.
There was a promptness and decision in her manner that irresistibly
drew every child into her way, and very soon there was no complaint of
tardiness or carelessness in the school-room. Jennie’s hair was brushed
smoothly, because Miss Lane’s satin braids made her ashamed of her
tangled locks. Lillie thought of her own ten ragged finger-nails with
a blush, when the rosy tips of her teacher’s fingers glided over the
piano-keys; and Frank scraped his shoes before coming into the parlor,
because he had once left a stain on the clear gray of her dress with
his muddy boots; he could not forget her distressed look as she noticed
it, and reformed accordingly.
A taste for beautiful things began to be developed in their minds
too, and the stars, the sunset, and a snow-fall were seen with new
eyes. They learned, too, to know that God was about them, around them,
above them; that there was no thought in their heart but he knew it
altogether; that he must be the Guide in the daily walk of his baptized
children. So the days went on in content.
There came sometimes a girl of Jennie’s age to visit the children; Mary
Noel was her name; her parents lived on the opposite shore of the lake,
about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Graham’s, and were very careless,
worldly people, keeping but a loose watch over their child.
Miss Lane did not fancy her from the first, and disapproved of the
intimacy with her young charges; but she had never seen anything
positively evil in the child’s behavior, and therefore could not forbid
it. But one afternoon, while Mary Noel was there, something occurred
which decided her to prevent all intercourse between the children.
Lillie and Mary in passing Miss Lane’s door found it ajar, and looked
in curiously at the pictures, curious boxes and books that adorned it,
all arranged with most exquisite neatness and taste.
“Let us go in,” proposed Mary. “She is not there, is she?”
“No; but I would rather go in when she is there,” answered Lillie.
“Well, I’d like to see those pictures; come,” and she pushed the door
open.
“I don’t think Miss Lane would like it,” persisted Lillie.
“Why? what need you care? The room’s in your father’s house.”
“I don’t think it would be quite right, quite polite; Miss Lane is so
precise.”
“I know; such a stiff old maid, too. You’ll all be just like her. Well,
I’m going in. I wonder if there are many pictures in that album; I’m
going to look.”
“Come out, Mary; we had better not disturb anything. I am sure Miss
Lane would be displeased.”
“You all act as if you were afraid of her. She isn’t mistress here yet.
Mamma said may-be she’d be your stepmother sometime; how would you like
that?”
The child’s face became scarlet; she stamped her foot.
“It is not true; it is a wicked story. You are very bad to say so. I’ll
ask papa;” and Lillie sat down in the window with tears in her eyes.
In the mean time, Mary was examining one by one the contents of the
room, opening books and boxes, and peering about, full of curiosity.
“Oh, Lillie, here is this bottle; it is so delicious! Oh, just
smell—Cologne! And isn’t the bottle pretty?”
“Beautiful!” exclaimed Lillie, springing up and taking it out of her
hand quickly—too quickly; the choice ornament fell from her grasp, and
lay broken in two pieces upon the floor, while the odor of the Cologne
water filled the room.
Lillie’s cheeks crimsoned; she stood with clasped hands and loud
beating heart, surveying the fragments.
“What _shall_ we do?” she exclaimed.
“Let us go away—she’ll find the bottle broken; we need not say
anything. She will not know that you did it.”
So, conscience-smitten and miserable, the little girl followed her
tempter down stairs; her first thought being an earnest desire to
escape the blame. Lillie was nervous and sensitive and very timid; the
idea of her teacher’s displeasure overshadowed all the sunshine of
that day, and made it indeed a time of wretchedness. She trembled with
terror when she heard Miss Lane’s step, and shrunk back with a guilty
flush whenever she caught her eye, growing pale and chill at the sound
of her voice, lest the dreaded question should be asked, and contending
with her ever rebuking conscience which urged her to confession.
“Ah!” she thought, “if I had only not given up at first—if I had only
never touched it—it was so wrong. Mamma used to tell us that we were
always punished for doing wrong, even if no one saw us: and now I know
that is why I broke the vase. Miss Lane cannot trust me when she knows
it; and, oh, she said she would rather we troubled her every minute
with mischief than to see us do _one dishonorable_ thing. She will
be sure to find it out too, oh, dear! and I never can tell her; it
frightens me to think of it. What shall I do? I am so unhappy;” and the
child buried her head in the sofa cushions, sobbing aloud.
By and by she crept into the parlor, quite pale and subdued, worn out
by the ceaseless reproaches of her conscience, and waited in much
sadness for her papa’s coming. The children were in great glee watching
the snow as it came softly down, and listening to the loud howling of
the wind round the house, happy in their good home, the loving hearts
around them, and the bright firelight.
How little they knew of the great world, with the sin, suffering, and
death in it; of the dying, despairing thousands on God’s earth, crying
out to him in sore pain and need, the day of their rejoicing long since
passed!
Presently there was a shout, as Miss Lane came at a quick pace up the
walk, struggling against the wind and storm, holding her cloak fast
around her. She came in merrily, laughing, and with a vivid color in
both cheeks.
“It is perfectly delightful,” she cried, as soon as she saw the
children. “How happy is the dog rolling in the snow!”
“Where have you been? We were lonesome; we’ve been hunting you
everywhere.”
“I have been to visit my Sunday scholars, and I came round by the
post-office for my letters, and I have two such pleasant ones.”
“Did you go to see all the scholars? And did you find out who it was
that sat on the end of the bench last Sunday?”
“Yes; her name is Phœbe Birch, and I went to her house. She has a
stepmother who is not kind to her. Her father was sitting in a corner
of the room; he had been drinking; and when I went in, Phœbe was
crying. Her eyes were quite red and swollen; she brightened at the
sight of me; but I was too much afraid of both the father and mother to
talk much to her, poor child! At last I asked her if she would not come
regularly to Sunday-school, and gave her a little Prayer-book, which
seemed to make her very happy. The mother scolded and said, ‘She was
good for nothing already, and she did not think going to Sunday-school
would make her any better.’ I told her that I hoped it would. But when
I had got out of the close little room, from that hard scowling woman
and the drunken man, into the fresh air, I could scarcely bear to
think of poor little Phœbe’s spending all her life there.”
Miss Lane looked round the beautiful rooms, her eye glancing through an
open door to the glittering table awaiting them with its delicacies,
and she sighed heavily. Her cloak lay on the sofa; she was holding her
hat by one string, and Lillie was trembling, lest any moment she might
go up to her own room to put them away, and so discover the mischief
that had been done. What would she have given to live over that day
again, that she might have left _that_ undone?
It was too late then, and her face blanched as Miss Lane, gathering up
her things, went gaily up stairs to brush her hair. In a little while
she came down again, and Lillie’s watchful eyes saw—as no doubt she
expected—a change in her face immediately.
“Has any one been in my room to-day?” she inquired. There was a chorus
of Noes, and she continued:
“Some one or some _thing_ has knocked my Cologne bottle off the
bureau, and I found it lying shattered on the floor.”
“It must have been Sallie,” said Jennie, “she is so careless; she
spilled all the ink in my bottle on the parlor carpet yesterday.”
“What were you doing with ink in the parlor?” asked Miss Lane.
“I was writing my exercises: Mary Noel and Lillie made so much noise in
the hall that I could not write in my room.”
“Don’t go there to write again; it is not the proper place; and I wish
none of you to have anything to do with Mary Noel; she is not a proper
companion for you, I am sure. When she comes here to ask you to walk
with her again, just tell her I do not allow you to go. I must speak
to Sallie about breaking my things; there is no occasion for such
accidents.”
She walked toward the door. Lillie started up to stop her; but the
words died on her lip. She could not utter them; she could not bear to
see the expression of disapproval gathering upon her teacher’s face,
to know her trust was forfeited, and feel the punishment deserved.
“What did Sallie say?” asked Jennie, when she returned.
“She says she never touched the bureau, and seemed much hurt at my
suspecting her,” answered Miss Lane, sitting down by the window with a
grave air, and looking out upon the snow in silence.
“You need not believe her,” continued Jennie, “she is not true. Mrs.
Hall can’t teach her to be.”
“I have good reason to believe her,” was the answer; and Mr. Graham’s
arrival at that moment caused the children to rush with a shout to meet
him, forgetting Sallie and the Cologne bottle.