"'With all my heart I forgive you. The past is cancelled; stay here, and help me in the work that God has set us to do, and obliterate the sins that this place has seen, by faithful striving in the labor of restoring it to his service again.' "My dear young lady," said Mrs. Arnold, in a trembling voice, "can you fear him after that?" "No," I exclaimed, with tears; "let me see him now." CHAPTER XIII. "Make no enemies; he is insignificant indeed that can do thee no harm." LACON. "Well," says Mrs. Arnold, with an inquiring look, as she was preparing to leave me for the night, "was I right, or do you feel sorry you followed my advice?" "Ah! no, indeed!" I exclaimed; "it's all right now! I can see all through it, and I am so much happier!" and I took her hand affectionately as she left me. It was all right, or nearly so. I had found, after the first awkwardness, that it was very easy to tell Mr. Shenstone things that I had never supposed I could tell to any one; there was something in his manner that divested one of all fear and shyness, and suggested only the interest and earnestness of one whose highest desire it was, to set forward in the right way, all who were faltering and uncertain. He made my duty very clear, and gave me many simple suggestions that I wondered I had never thought of before. He then told me what it seemed to him I ought to do, in the matter of remedying the mischief I had caused. Acknowledging my fault to Mrs. Roberts in person, was a very humiliating, but a very wholesome mortification, and one which he unhesitatingly recommended. And the restoration to her of a dress equally as valuable as the one she had lost, was also his advice, and, if it shortened uncomfortably my already rather scanty supply of pocket-money, so much the better lesson it would be. He would himself undertake acquainting Mr. Rutledge with the circumstances, and representing them in the most favorable light. About the miniature I had just begun to tell him, intending to say as much as I could without implicating Kitty, when a knock at the door interrupted us, and "the doctor" was announced. His visit was not quite as trying as it had been in the morning, owing to the increased stock of patience and good resolutions I had been laying in since then; and indeed, they continued to influence my endurance of him during the daily visits that he inflicted on me while I remained at the Parsonage. I had had so much of the effects of willfulness, that I determined never to be self-willed again, and not so much as to ask him when I might go back to Rutledge; and he, for his part, seemed determined not to volunteer the permission till I should ask for it.