A CONFESSION. 
429 
mind to tell him so. I cannot bear to say, 
in so many words, that I have been wrong 
or mistaken about any thing even to my¬ 
self.” 
“ Why do you tell me, then ?” was An¬ 
toinette’s very natural question. 
“ I am sure I don’t know,” replied Annie, 
half laughing, but still leaning over the rail¬ 
ing, so as to hide her face, “ unless it is 
because we have got into the spirit of being 
confidential. But it is true that l am proud 
and self-willed, and jealous besides.” 
“But that is not so bad as-” Antoin¬ 
ette pronounced the word as if it choked 
her—“ as lying.” 
“ I don’t know that. I suppose one sin 
is nearly or quite as bad as another. They 
must all be repented of alike, if we wish to 
be forgiven. And that reminds me of what 
I was going to say before.” Annie dropped 
her voice again and looked still more stead¬ 
fastly into the water. “ If you really want 
to improve yourself, you know what you 
must do. Ask Him to help you, you know.” 
“I do,” replied Antoinette. “I never 
used to say my prayers at home, unless there 
was some one to see me and tell mother if 
