Will you forgive me?"
I said, "Of course, if you're sorry, I forgive you, but you have been
a very long time in repenting."
Which was true. If I had been cross with one, of the others, and had
borne malice for five months, I should have thought myself very
wicked. But when I had said it, I felt sorry, for the old gentleman
made no answer. Father did not speak either, and I began to feel very
miserable. I touched the flowers, and the Old Squire gave them to me
in silence. I thanked him very much, and then I said--
"I am very glad you know about it now.... I'm very glad they lived ...
I hope you like them?... I hope, if you do like them, that they'll
grow and spread all over your field."
The Old Squire spoke at last. He said, "It is not my field any
longer."
I said, "Oh, why?"
"I have given it away; I have been a long time in repenting, but when
I did repent I punished myself. I have given it away."
It overwhelmed me, and when he took up the big paper again, I thought
he was going, and I tried to stop him, for I was sorry I had spoken
unkindly to him, and I wanted to be friends.
"Please don't go," I said. "Please stop and be friends. And oh,
please, please don't give Mary's Meadow away. You mustn't punish
yourself. There's nothing to punish yourself for. I forgive you with
all my heart, and I'm sorry I spoke crossly.
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