"Then when I saw my white dress, all black from the ashes, I ran away!"

"Now do not excite yourself, dear," cautioned Dorothy, for she saw how
Sarah's face had flushed, and did not like to hear her raise her voice
so.

"No, it will not hurt me. The pain of it has been killing me ever since,
but now it will go--with my confession!"

"Hush!" whispered Dorothy, "your mother is in the hall."

"Poor mother!" answered Sarah. "She has tried every way to help me, but
I could not tell her. It seemed so terrible!"

"But how did you hurt your ankle?" asked Dorothy bluntly.

"I fell out--of--the--tree! I did not mean to do it. I was up there
hiding from those who passed in the lane, and all at once the awful
thought came to me that I could slip and blame it on Tavia. But I did
not mean to do it that way. Oh, Dorothy, how dreadfully I have been
punished!" and the sick girl fell to weeping again.

"Never mind dear. We all do wrong sometimes--"

"No, Dorothy Dale, you never do. I have been jealous of your love for
Tavia. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you--that day
helping a poor drunken man to his feet. I said then I would make you
love me, but see how I have failed. You will hate me now."

"No, Sarah dear. You are better and nobler this minute than any other