Joan of Arc, in real life she had never yet been able to
vindicate herself.

She sat through the sermon, making vows, Jacob-like, that if she ever
came through this time of tribulation alive she would go softly all the
rest of her days. She would live a life of complete
renunciation--selfish pleasures, worldly ambitions centering round Mrs.
Jarvis, even dreams of Joan of Arc she would put away forever. She
would not finish that enthralling story she was surreptitiously reading
in the Cheemaun _Chronicle_, the story of Lady Evelina De Lacy and the
false Lord Algernon. She would never even wish she had curls like
Rosie, but would be glad her hair was straight and plain; and when Mrs.
Jarvis came, offering her a fortune and a velvet dress and a gold
crown, she would turn away, declaring firmly that for her there could
be no pleasure in such worldly joys.

The sermon had never seemed so long. Mr. Murray, a good old man, whose
discourses had steadily lengthened with his years, preached on and on.
Forest Glen nodded and woke up and nodded again, and finally roused
itself to stand up for the closing psalm. As the people slowly and
silently filed out of church, still only half-awake, Elizabeth followed
her aunt with the feelings of a criminal going to the gallows. She
knew that her secret was safe with John and Charles Stuart. The boys
might fill her days with tribulation by teasing, but they would never
stoop to tell tales. Nevertheless, Elizabeth did not for a moment
consider this as an avenue of escape. The integrity of her soul
demanded that she go straight to Mr. MacAllister and confess. And then
everyone would know she had disgraced the name of Gordon forever, and
what Aunt Margaret would say was a thought to make one shudder.

As she went blindly down the aisle, she found herself shoved against
Mr. Coulson. He was looking straight ahead of him, very sternly, as
though to let her know he realized how wicked and ungenteel she was.
But Elizabeth had in memory many blessed occasions upon which her
teacher had exonerated her in the face of damaging evidence. She had
learned to put unbounded confidence in him. He was a person who
understood, and there were so very few people in the world who did
understand. He possessed some wonderful divining power, which
Elizabeth felt would make it possible for him even to conceive of a
person who could carry a dog into Sunday school and yet not be quite a
social outcast.