ABSTRACT
Next day Rarahu, with her head on my knees, wept hot tears. All notion of right and wrong was very imperfect in her little heart; she had grown up at haphazard in the woods; her ideas were confused, outlandish, and unformed, sprouting as they could in the shade of the great trees. Still, they were for the most part sweet and pure, and among them were some Christian notions picked up here and there in her old granny's Bible. Vanity and greediness had led her astray from the right path, but I was sure, perfectly sure, that she had made no return for these ill-omened gifts and all the evil could be washed out by tears. She quite understood that what she had done was very naughty, and above all she understood that she had grieved me—and that John, my solemn brother John, would not look at her with his blue eyes.
