who has done it?" Not a girl
spoke; I thought that I was the only one who had opened and shut the
blades, but I knew I had not gapped either of them. I knew that all
the others had taken up the knife; I was afraid to speak; I did not
like to take the whole blame, and I was silent as the other girls
were.

After waiting a few minutes, our teacher said, "As none of you
choose to confess who has done this, I shall have to punish the
innocent with the guilty; I shall take away a merit from all of you,
except those few girls who, I feel sure, would not disobey me."

There were only five girls in the school who did not lose a merit,
and I was one of the number. As she named them over, and gave her
reasons for believing them innocent, when she came to me, she said,
"Little Susan Vincent has been so orderly and so good ever since she
has been here, that I am sure it was not she that did it, and, if
she had, I am sure she would confess it."

I felt as if I was choking; I put my head clear down so that no one
could see my face; but the girls, who had none of them seen me touch
the knife, thought that my modesty made me appear so much confused;
no one but God and myself knew that I had a guilty conscience. I
felt too dreadfully to speak then; I thought of nothing else all
school time; I missed in all my lessons, for I did not attend to any
thing that was said to me. The schoolmistress thought I was sick,
and I went home miserable enough.

As I went along, I thought over all that Mrs. Brown had said to me
about conscience, and I understood then what she meant by the voice
of God in the heart. No one accused me, but I felt like a criminal;
every one thought well of me; my schoolmistress and companions all
loved me; but I despised and hated myself. I felt as if God was
displeased with me.

As usual, I went directly to Mrs. Brown to ask what she had for me
to do. "What's the matter, Susan?" said she; "you don't look right;
have you been naughty, or are you sick, child?"

I could not bear to have her speak so kindly to me when I did not
deserve it, and I burst into tears; I loved her like a mother, and I
told her all.

"And now, Susan, what are you going to do?"

"I want you, ma'am, to tell the schoolmistress."

"Better tell her yourself," she answered.

After thinking a while, I said that I would; and then my conscience
was a little easier. I went a little before the time, that I might
see her alone. When I came in, I f