CHAPTER XIX.--"WHY DID YOU DO IT?"
Meanwhile Sylvia was thoroughly enjoying herself. She started for theCastle in the highest spirits. Her walk during the morning hours had notfatigued her; and when, soon after twelve o'clock, she walked slowly andthoughtfully up the avenue, a happier, prettier girl could scarcely beseen. The good food she had enjoyed since Jasper had appeared on thescene had already begun to tell. Her cheeks were plump, her eyes bright;her somewhat pale complexion was creamy in tint and thoroughly healthy.Her dress, too, effected wonders. Sylvia would look well in a cottonfrock; she would look well as a milkmaid, as a cottage girl; but shealso had that indescribable grace which would enable her to fill aloftier station. And now, in her rich furs and dark-brown costume, shelooked fit to move in any society. She held Evelyn's letter in her hand.Her one fear was that Evelyn would remark on her own costumetransmogrified for Sylvia's benefit.
"Well, if she does, I don't much care," thought the happy girl. "Afterall, truth is best. Why should I deceive? I deceived when I was herelast, when I wore Audrey's dress. I had not the courage then that I havenow. Somehow to-day I feel happy and not afraid of anything."
She was met, just before she reached the front entrance, by Audrey andEvelyn.
"Here, Evelyn," she cried--"here is a note for you."
Evelyn took it quickly. She did not want Audrey to know that Jasper wasliving at The Priory. She turned aside and read her note, and Audreydevoted herself to Sylvia. Audrey had liked Sylvia before; she liked herbetter than ever now. She was far too polite to glance at her improveddress; that somehow seemed to tell her that happier circumstances haddawned for Sylvia, and a sense of rejoicing visited her.
"I am so very glad you have come!" she said. "Evelyn and I have beenplanning how we are to spend the day. We want to give you, and ourselvesalso, a right good time. Do you know that Evelyn and I are schoolgirlsnow? Is it not strange? Dear Miss Sinclair has left us. We miss herterribly; but I think we shall like school-life--eh, Eve?"
Evelyn had finished Jasper's letter, and had thrust it into her pocket.
"I hate school-life!" she said emphatically.
"Oh Eve! but why?" asked Audrey. "I thought you were making a great manyfriends at school."
"Wherever I go I shall make friends," replied Evelyn in a careless tone."That, of course, is due to my position. But I do not know, after all,"she continued, "that I like fair-weather friends. Mothery used to tellme that I must be careful when with them. She said they would, one andall, expect me to do something for them. Now, I hate people who want youto do things for them. For my part, I shall soon let my so-calledfriends know that I am not that sort of girl."
"Let us walk about now," said Audrey. "It will be lunch-time beforelong; afterwards I thought we might go for a ride. Can you ride,Sylvia?"
"I used to ride once," she answered, coloring high with pleasure.
"I can lend you a habit; and we have a very nice horse--quite quiet, andat the same time spirited."
"I am not afraid of any horses," answered the girl. "I should like aride immensely."
"We will have lunch, then a ride, then a good cozy chat together by theschoolroom fire, then dinner; and then, what do you say to a dance? Wehave asked some young friends to come to the Castle to-night for thepurpose."
"I must not be too late in going home," said Sylvia. "And," she added,"I have not brought a dress for the evening."
"Oh, we must manage that," said Audrey. "What a good thing that you andI are the same height! Now, shall we walk round the shrubbery?"
"The shrubbery always reminds me," said Sylvia, "of the first day wemet."
"Yes. I was very angry with you that day," said Audrey, with a laugh."You must know that I always hated that old custom of throwing theCastle open to every one on New Year's Day."
"But I am too glad of it," said Sylvia. "It made me know you, and Evelyntoo."
"Don't forget, Audrey," said Evelyn at that moment, "that Sylvia isreally my friend. It was I who first brought her to the Castle.--You donot forget that, do you, Sylvia?"
"No," said Sylvia, smiling. "And I like you both awfully. But do tell meabout your school--do, please."
"Well," said Audrey, "there is a rather exciting thing to tell--somethingunpleasant, too. Perhaps you ought not to know."
"Please--please tell me. I am quite dying to hear about it."
Audrey then described the mysterious damage done to Sesame and Lilies.
"Miss Henderson was told," she said, "and yesterday morning she spoke tothe entire school. She is going to punish the person who did it veryseverely if she can find her; and if that person does not confess, Ibelieve the whole school is to be put more or less into Coventry."
"But how does she know that any of the girls did it?" was Sylvia'sanswer. "There are servants in the house. Has she questioned them?"
"She has; but it so happens that the servants are quite placed abovesuspicion, for the book was whole at a certain hour the very first daywe came to school, and that evening it was found in its mutilatedcondition. During all those hours it happened to be in the Fourth Formschoolroom."
"Yes," said Evelyn in a careless tone. "It is quite horrid for me, youknow, for I am a Fourth Form girl. I ought not to be. I ought to be inthe Sixth Form with Audrey. But there! those unpleasant mistresses haveno penetration."
"But why should you wish to be in a higher form than your acquirementswarrant?" replied Sylvia. "Oh," she added, with enthusiasm, "don't Ienvy you both your luck! Should I not love to be at school in order towork hard!"
"By the way, Sylvia," said Audrey suddenly, "how have you beeneducated?"
"Why, anyhow," said the girl. "I have taught myself mostly. But pleasedo not ask me any questions. I don't want to think of my own life at allto-day; I am so very happy at being with you two."
Audrey immediately turned the conversation; but soon, by a sort ofinstinct, it crept back again to the curious occurrence which had takenplace at Miss Henderson's school.
"Please do not speak of it at lunch," said Audrey, "for we have not toldmother or father anything about it. We hope that this disgraceful thingwill not be made public, but that the culprit will confess."
"Much chance of that!" said Evelyn; and she nudged Sylvia's arm, onwhich she happened to be leaning.
The girls presently went into the house. Lunch followed. Lady Franceswas extremely kind to Sylvia--in fact, she made a pet of her. She lookedwith admiration at the pretty and suitable costume, and wondered in herown heart what she could do for the little girl.
"I like her," she said to herself. "She suits me better than any girl Ihave ever met except my own dear Audrey. Oh, how I wish she were theheiress instead of Evelyn!"
Evelyn was fairly well behaved; she had learnt to suppress herself. Shewas now outwardly dutiful to Lady Frances, and was, without any seemingin the matter, affectionate to her uncle. The Squire was alwaysspecially kind to Evelyn; but he liked young girls, and took notice ofSylvia also, trying to draw her out. He spoke to her about her father.He told her that he had once known a distinguished man of the name, andwondered if it could be the same. Sylvia colored painfully, and showedby many signs that the conversation distressed her.
"It cannot be the same, of course," said the Squire lightly, "for myfriend Robert Leeson was a man who was likely to rise to the very top ofhis profession. He was a barrister of extreme eminence. I shall neverforget the brilliant way he spoke in a _cause celebre_ which occupiedpublic attention not long ago. He won the case for his clients, andcovered himself with well-earned glory."
Sylvia's eyes sparkled; then they grew dim with unshed tears. Shelowered her eyes and looked on her plate. Lady Frances nodded softly toherself.
"The same--doubtless the same," she said to herself. "A mostdistinguished man. How terribly sad! I must inquire into this; Edwardhas unexpectedly given me the clue."
The girls went for a ride after lunch, and the rest of the delightfulday passed swiftly. Sylvia counted the hours. When
ever she looked at theclock her face grew a little sadder. Half-hour after half-hour of theprecious time was going by. When should she have such a grand treatagain? At last it was time to go up-stairs to dress for dinner.
"Now, you must come to my room, Sylvia," said Evelyn. "Yes, I insist,"she added, "for I was in reality your first friend."
Sylvia was quite willing to comply. She soon found herself in Evelyn'sextremely pretty blue-and-silver room. How comfortable it looked--howluxurious, how sweet, how refreshing to the eyes! The cleanliness andperfect order of the room, the brightness of the fire, the calm, properlook of Read as she stood by waiting to dress Evelyn for dinner, allimpressed Sylvia.
"I like this life," she said suddenly. "Perhaps it is bad for me even tosee it, but I like it; I confess as much."
"Perhaps, Miss Leeson," said Read just then in a very courteous voice,"you will not object to Miss Audrey lending you the same dress you worethe last time you were here? It has been nicely made up, and looks veryfresh and new."
As Read spoke she pointed to the lovely Indian muslin robe which layacross Evelyn's bed.
"Please, Read," said Evelyn suddenly, "don't stay to help me to dressto-night; Sylvia will do that. I want to have a chat with her; I have alot to say."
"I will certainly help Evelyn if I can," replied Sylvia.
"Very well, miss," replied Read. "To tell you the truth, I shall berather relieved; my mistress requires a fresh tucker to be put into thedress she means to wear this evening, and I have not quite finished it.Then you will excuse me, young ladies. If you want anything, will youhave the goodness to ring?"
The next moment Read had departed.
"Now, that is right," said Evelyn. "Now we shall have a cozy time; thereis nearly an hour before we need go down-stairs. How do you like myroom, Sylvia?"
"Very much indeed. I see the second bed has gone."
"Oh yes. I do not mind a scrap sleeping alone now; in fact, I ratherprefer it. Sylvia, I want so badly to confide in you!"
"To confide in me! How? Why?"
"I want to ask you about Jasper. Oh yes, she wants to see me. I canmanage to slip out about nine o'clock on Tuesday next; we are not todine down-stairs on Tuesday night, for there is a big dinner party. Shecan come to meet me then; I shall be standing by the stile in theshrubbery."
"But surely Lady Frances will not like you to be out so late!"
"As if I minded her! Sylvia, for goodness' sake don't tell me that youare growing goody-goody."
"No; I never was that," replied Sylvia. "I don't think I could be; it isnot in me, I am afraid."
"I hope not; I don't think Jasper would encourage that sort of thing.Yes, I have a lot to tell her, and you may say from me that I don't carefor school."
"Oh, I am so sorry! It is incomprehensible to me, for I should thinkthat you would love it."
"For some reasons I might have endured it; but then, you see, there isthat awkward thing about the Ruskin book."
"The Ruskin book!" said Sylvia. She turned white, and her heart began tobeat. "Surely--surely, Evelyn, you have had nothing to do with thetearing out of the first pages of _Sesame and Lilies_!"
"You won't tell--you promise you won't tell?" said Evelyn, nodding herhead, and her eyes looking very bright.
"Oh! I don't know. This is dreadful; please relieve my anxiety."
"You will not tell; you dare not!" said Evelyn, with passion. "If youdid I would tell about Jasper--I would. Oh! I would not leave a stoneunturned to make your life miserable. There, Sylvia, forgive me; I didnot mean to scold. I like you so much, dear Sylvia; and I am so glad youhave Jasper with you, and it suits me to perfection. But I did tear theleaves out of the book; yes, I did, and I am glad I did; and you mustnever, never tell."
"But, Eve--oh, Eve! why did you do such a dreadful thing?"
"I did it in a fit of temper, to spite that horrid Miss Thompson; I hateher so! She was so intolerably cheeky; she made me stay in duringrecreation on the very first day, and she accused me of telling lies,and when she had left the room I saw the odious book lying on the table.I had seen her reading it before, and I thought it was her book; andalmost before I had time to think, the pages were out and torn up and inthe fire. If I had known it was Miss Henderson's book, of course, Ishould not have done it. But I did not know. I meant to punish horridold Thompson, and it seems I have succeeded better than I expected."
"But, Eve--Eve, the whole school is suspected now. What are you going todo?"
"Do!" replied Evelyn. "Nothing."
"But you have been asked, have you not, whether you knew anything aboutthe injury to the book?"
"I have, and I told a nice little whopper--a nice pretty little whopper--adear, charming little whopper--and I mean to stick to it."
"Eve!"
"You look shocked. Well, cheer up; it has not been your fault. I mustconfide in some one, so I have told you, and you may tell Jasper if youlike. Dear old Jasper! she will applaud me for my spirit. Oh dear! doyou know, Sylvia, I think you are rather a tiresome girl. I thought youtoo would have admired the plucky way I have acted."
"How can I admire deceit and lies?" replied Sylvia in a low tone.
"You dare say those words to me!"
"Yes, I dare. Oh, you have made me unhappy! Oh, you have destroyed myday! Oh Eve, Eve, why did you do it?"
"You won't tell on me, please, Sylvia? You have promised that, have younot?"
"Oh, why should I tell? It is not my place. But why did you do it?"
"If you will not tell, nothing matters. I have done it, and it is notyour affair."
"Yes, it is, now that you have confided in me. Oh, you have made meunhappy!"
"You are a goose! But you may tell dear Jasper; and tell her too thather little Eve will wait for her at the turnstile on Tuesday night atnine o'clock. Now then, let's get ready or we shall be late for dinner."