uld break. To
do her justice, Lillie's sobs were not affected. She was lonesome and
thoroughly frightened; and, when she heard him coming, her nerves
gave out. John's heart yearned towards her. His short-lived anger had
burned out; and he was perfectly longing for a reconciliation. He felt
as if he must have her to love, no matter what she was. He came up to
her, and stroked her hair. "O Lillie!" he said, "why couldn't you have
told me the truth? What made you deceive me?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't like me if I did," said Lillie, in her
sobs.

"O Lillie! I should have liked you, no matter how old you were,--only
you should have told me _the truth_."

"I know it--I know it--oh, it _was_ wrong of me!" and Lillie sobbed,
and seemed in danger of falling into convulsions; and John's heart
gave out. He gathered her in his arms. "I can't help loving you; and I
can't live without you," he said, "be you what you may!"

Lillie's little heart beat with triumph under all her sobs: she had
got him, and should hold him yet.

"There can be no confidence between husband and wife, Lillie," said
John, gravely, "unless we are perfectly true with each other. Promise
me, dear, that you will never deceive me again."

Lillie promised with ready fervor. "O John!" she said, "I never should
have done so wrong if I had only come under your influence earlier.
The fact is, I have been under the worst influences all my life. I
never had anybody like you to guide me."

John may of course be excused for feeling that his flattering little
penitent was more to him than ever; and as to Lillie, she gave a sigh
of relief. _That_ was over, "anyway;" and she had him not only safe,
but more completely hers than before.

A generous man is entirely unnerved by a frank confession. If Lillie
had said one word in defence, if she had raised the slightest shadow
of an argument, John would have roused up all his moral principle to
oppose her; but this poor little white water-sprite, dissolving in a
rain of penitent tears, quite washed away all his anger and all his
heroism.

The next morning, Lillie, all fresh in a ravishing toilet, with
field-daisies in her hair, was in a condition to laugh gently at John
for his emotion of yesterday. She triumphed softly, not too obviously,
in her power. He couldn't do without her,--do what she might,--that
was plain.

"Now, John," she said, "don't you think we poor women are judged
rather hardly? Men, you know, tel