And Belle shook her head as she glanced at Lizzie, who was staring hard at the fire with such a troubled face that Belle could not bear to see it.
Jumping out of her nest of cushions, she heaped a plate with good things, and going to Lizzie, offered it, saying, with a gentle courtesy that made the act doubly sweet:
"Please have some; you must be tired of waiting."
But Lizzie could not take it; she could only cover her face and cry; for this kindness rent her heart and made the stolen flower a burden too heavy to be borne.
"Oh, don't cry so! Are you sick? Have I been rude? Tell me all about it; and if I can't do any thing, mamma can," said Belle, surprised and troubled.
"No; I'm not sick; I'm bad, and I can't bear it when you are so good to me," sobbed Lizzie, quite overcome with penitence; and taking out the crumpled rose, she confessed her fault with many tears.
"Don't feel so much about such a little thing as that," began Belle, warmly; then checked herself, and added, more soberly, "It was wrong to take it
