"

"Oh, no, sir; it is too late; it is too late!"

"It is never to late to do well."

"Oh, yes, sir; it is for me! Oh, how I wish I had had your good counsel
before; it would have saved me from so much trouble."

"My dear child, you make me seriously uneasy; do explain yourself," said
the old pastor, drawing his chair closer to hers and trying to get a
look at the distressed little face that was bowed down upon her hands
and veiled with her hair; "do tell me, my dear, what is the matter."

"Oh, sir, I am afraid to tell you; you'd hate and despise me; you'd
never speak to me again," said Capitola, keeping her face concealed.

"My dear child," said the minister, very gravely and sorrowfully,
"whatever your offense has been, and you make me fear that it has been a
very serious one, I invite you to confide it to me, and, having done so,
I promise, however I may mourn the sin, not to 'hate,' or 'despise,' or
forsake the sinner. Come, confide in me."

"Oh, sir, I daren't! indeed I daren't!" moaned Capitola.

"My poor girl!" said the minister, "if I am to do you any good it is
absolutely necessary that you make me your confidant."

"Oh, sir, I have been a very wicked girl; I daren't tell you how wicked
I have been!"

"Does your good uncle know or suspect this wrongdoing of yours?"

"Uncle! Oh, no, sir! He'd turn me out of doors! He'd kill me! Indeed he
would, sir! Please don't tell him!"

"You forget, my child, that I do not yet know the nature of your
offense," said the minister, in a state of painful anxiety.

"But I am going to inform you, sir; and oh! I hope you will take pity on
me and tell me what to do; for though I dread to speak, I can't keep it
on my conscience any longer, it is such a heavy weight on my breast!"

"Sin always is, my poor girl," said the pastor, with a deep moan.

"But, sir, you know I had no mother, as you said yourself."

"I know it, my poor girl, and am ready to make every allowance," said
the old pastor, with a deep sigh, not knowing what next to expect.

"And--and--I hope you will forgive me, sir; but--but he was so handsome
I couldn't help liking him!"

"Miss Black!" cried the horrified pastor.

"There! I knew you'd just go and bite my head off the very first thing!
Oh, dear, what shall I do?" sobbed Capitola.

The good pastor, who had started to his feet, remained gazing upon her
in a panic of consternation, murmuring to himself:

"Good angel! I am fated to hear more gre