“Oh! yes; I remember that quite well; I have been very, very wrong; I deserve to be punished, and I will try to bear it well.” Selina looked earnestly at her; then throwing her arms round her neck, she whispered,--“Tell me, dear Matilda, did Lydia ask you to show her that book?” Matilda made no answer; she kissed Selina fondly, then turning round, she said,--“Mrs. Roberts, I know I must be punished, what do I deserve?” “Not a very severe punishment, Matilda; for you have already lessened your fault by confessing it to me; and you will still further, I am sure, atone for it by confessing it to God and imploring His forgiveness. I see that you feel it deeply and are really penitent; I shall, therefore, leave your punishment with yourself. Say, then, what it shall be.” Matilda stood for some moments looking on the ground, her colour varying at every moment. “I had rather that you should have punished me,” she said. “But if I do not come into the room to-morrow, or next day, or the next, when you read aloud to us, will that be enough, do you think? I assure you it will be a great punishment to me.” Mrs. Roberts was in the habit of reading out some interesting story to them for an hour every day while they were employed in working for the poor. Matilda used to call it her happy hour, and the tears again filled her eyes at the thoughts of such a banishment. Mrs. Roberts saw it would indeed be punishment enough. She assented, and taking Matilda in her arms and kissing her, she said,--“You have my forgiveness, my child; now go to your room and ask forgiveness of your heavenly Father for your Saviour’s sake, and strength from the Holy Spirit to walk more and more in His blessed ways.” When Matilda returned to the school-room a short time afterwards, to invite Lydia to go to tea, her countenance was quite cheerful again. Lydia looked at her attentively. “Well,” she said, “I see you have got it over, and well over; I only hope you have not committed me; what did you say, Matilda? how much did you tell?” “I told only that I had spilt the ink on the book.” “And you did not mention my name?” “No, I did not.” But Lydia seemed to understand the tone and manner in which those few words were said, and hastened to efface the bad impression she had made. “You are a generous, noble girl, Matilda,” she said, “and though younger, far better than I am; you must teach me to be like you;” she twined her arms fondly round her waist, and they left the room together.