CHAPTER XXIII.--ONE WEEK OF GRACE.
There never was a woman more distressed and puzzled than Miss Henderson.She consulted with her sister, Miss Lucy; she consulted with herfavorite teacher, Miss Thompson. They talked into the small hours of thenight, and finally it was resolved that Evelyn should have anotherchance.
"I must appeal to her honor; it is impossible that any girl could bequite destitute of that quality," said Miss Henderson.
"I am sure you are doing right, sister," said Miss Lucy. "Once youharden a girl you do for her. Whatever Evelyn Wynford's faults may be,she will hold a high position one day. It would be terrible--more thanterrible--if she grew up a wicked woman. How awful to have power and notto use it aright! My dear Maria, whatever you are, be merciful."
"I must pray to God to guide me aright," answered Miss Maria. "This is acase for a right judgment in all things. Poor child! I pity her from myheart; but how to bring her to the necessary confession is thequestion."
Miss Henderson went to bed, but not to sleep. Early in the morning shearose, having made up her mind what to do.
Accordingly, when Audrey and Evelyn arrived in the pretty littlegoverness-cart--Audrey with a high color in her cheeks, looking as sweetand fresh and good and nice as English girl could look, and Evelyntripping after her with a certain defiance on her white face and a lookof hostility in her brown eyes--they were both greeted by Miss Hendersonherself.
"Ah, Audrey dear," she said in a cheerful and friendly tone, "how areyou this morning?--How do you do, Evelyn?--No, Audrey, you are not late;you are quite in nice time. Will you go to the schoolroom, my dear? Iwill join you presently for prayers.--Evelyn, can I have a word withyou?"
"Why so?" asked Evelyn, backing a little.
"Because I have something I want to say to you."
Audrey also stood still. She cast a hostile glance at Miss Henderson,saying to herself:
"After all, my head-mistress is horribly unfair; she is doubtless goingto tell Evelyn that she suspects her."
"Evelyn," said Audrey, "I will wait for you in the dressing-room if MissHenderson has no objection."
"But I have, for it may be necessary for me to detain your cousin for ashort time," said Miss Henderson. "Go, Audrey; do not keep me anylonger."
Evelyn stood sullenly and perfectly still in the hall; Audreydisappeared in the direction of the schoolrooms. Miss Henderson now tookEvelyn's hand and led her into her private sitting-room.
"What do you want me for?" asked the little girl.
"I want to say something to you, Evelyn."
"Then say it, please."
"You must not be pert."
"I do not know what 'pert' is."
"What you are now. But there, my dear child, please control yourself;believe me, I am truly sorry for you."
"Then you need not be," said Evelyn, with a toss of her head. "I do notwant anybody to be sorry for me. I am one of the most lucky girls in theworld. Sorry for me! Please don't. Mothery could never bear to bepitied, and I won't be pitied; I have nothing to be pitied for."
"Who did you say never cared to be pitied?" asked Miss Henderson.
"Never you mind."
"And yet, Evelyn, I think I have heard the words. You allude to yourmother. I understand from Lady Frances that your mother is dead. Youloved her, did you not?"
Evelyn gave a quick nod; her face seemed to say, "That is nothing toyou."
"I see you did, and she was fond of you."
In spite of herself Evelyn gave another nod.
"Poor little girl; how sad to be without her!"
"Don't," said Evelyn in a strained voice.
"You lived all your early days in Tasmania, and your mother was good toyou because she loved you, and you loved her back; you tried to pleaseher because you loved her."
"Oh, bother!" said Evelyn.
"Come here, dear."
Evelyn did not budge an inch.
"Come over to me," said Miss Henderson.
Miss Henderson was not accustomed to being disobeyed. Her tone was notloud, but it was quiet and determined. She looked full at Evelyn. Hereyes were kind. Evelyn felt as if they mesmerized her. Step by step,very unwillingly, she approached the side of the head-mistress.
"I love girls like you," said Miss Henderson then.
"Bother!" said Evelyn again.
"And I do not mind even when they are sulky and rude and naughty, as youare now; still, I love them--I love them because I am sorry for them."
"You need not be sorry for me; I won't have you sorry for me," saidEvelyn.
"If I must not be sorry for you I must be something else."
"What?"
"Angry with you."
"Why so? I never! What do you mean now?"
"I must be angry with you, Evelyn--very angry. But I will say no more byway of excusing my own conduct. I will say nothing of either sorrow oranger. I want to state a fact to you."
"Get it over," said Evelyn.
Miss Henderson now approached the table; she opened the History at thereign of Edward I., and taking two tiny fragments of torn paper from thepages of the book, she laid them in her open palm. In her other hand sheheld the mutilated copy of _Sesame and Lilies_. The print on the tornscrap exactly corresponded with the print in the injured volume. MissHenderson glanced from Evelyn to the scraps of paper, and from Evelyn tothe copy of Ruskin.
"You have intelligence," she said; "you must see what this means."
She then carefully replaced the bits of paper in the History and laid iton the table by her side.
"Between now," she said, "and this time yesterday Miss Thompsondiscovered these scraps of paper in the copy of the History which youhad to read on the morning of the day when you first came to school. Thescraps are evidently part of the pages torn from the injured book. Haveyou anything to say with regard to them?"
Evelyn shook her head; her face was white and her eyes bright. But therewas a small red spot on each cheek--a spot about the size of a farthing.It did not grow any larger. It gave a curious effect to the pallid face.The obstinacy of the mouth was very apparent. The cleft in the chinstill further showed the curious bias of the girl's character.
"Have you anything to say--any remark to make?"
Again the head was slowly shaken.
"Is there any reason why I should not immediately after prayers to-dayexplain these circumstances to the whole school, and allow the school todraw its own conclusions?"
Evelyn now raised her eyes and fixed them on Miss Henderson's face.
"You will not do that, will you?" she asked.
"Have you ever, Evelyn, heard of such a thing as circumstantialevidence?"
"No. What is it?"
"You are very ignorant, my dear child--ignorant as well as wilful; wilfulas well as wicked."
"No, I am not wicked; you shall not say it!"
"Tell me, is there any reason why I should not show what I have nowshown you to the rest of the school, and allow the school to draw itsown conclusion?"
"You won't--will you?"
"Must I explain to you, Evelyn, what this means?"
"You can say anything you like."
"These scraps of paper prove beyond doubt that you, for someextraordinary reason, were the person who tore the book. Why you did itis beyond my conception, is beyond Miss Thompson's conception, is beyondthe conception of my sister Lucy; but that you did do it we none of usfor a moment doubt."
"Oh, you are wicked! How dare you think such things of me?"
"Tell me, Evelyn--tell me why you did it. Come here and tell me. I willnot be unkind to you, my poor little girl. I am sorry for one soignorant, so wanting in all conceptions of right or wrong. Tell me,dear, and as there is a God in heaven, Evelyn, I will forgive you."
"I will not tell you what I did not do," said the angry child.
"You are vexed now and do not know what you are saying. I will go away,and come back again at the end of half an hour; perhaps you will tell methen."
&nb
sp; Evelyn stood silent. Miss Henderson, taking the History with her, leftthe room. She turned the key in the lock. Evelyn rushed to the window.Could she get out by it? She rushed to the door and tried to open it.Window and door defied her efforts. She was locked in. She was like awild creature in a trap. To scream would do no good. Never before hadthe spoilt child found herself in such a position. A wild agony seizedher; even now she did not repent.
If only mothery were alive! If only she were back on the ranch! If onlyJasper were by her side!
"Oh mothery! oh Jasper!" she cried; and then a sob rose to her throat,tears burst from her eyes. The tension for the time was relieved; shehuddled up in a chair, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Miss Henderson came back again in half an hour. Evelyn was stillsobbing.
"Well, Evelyn," she said, "I am just going into the schoolroom now forprayers. Have you made up your mind? Will you tell me why you did it,and how you did it, and why you denied it? Just three questions, dear;answer truthfully, and you will have got over the most painful andterrible crisis of your life. Be brave, little girl; ask God to helpyou."
"I cannot tell you what I do not know," burst now from the angry child."Think what you like. Do what you like. I am at your mercy; but I hateyou, and I will never be a good girl--never, never! I will be a bad girlalways--always; and I hate you--I hate you!"
Miss Henderson did not speak a word. The most violent passion cannotlong retain its hold when the person on whom its rage is spent makes noreply. Even Evelyn cooled down a little. Miss Henderson stood quitestill; then she said gently:
"I am deeply sorry. I was prepared for this. It will take more than thisto subdue you."
"Are you going into the schoolroom with those scraps of paper, and areyou going to tell all the girls I am guilty?" said Evelyn.
"No, I shall not do that; I will give you another chance. There was tohave been a holiday to-day, but because of that sin of yours there willbe no holiday. There was to be a visit on Saturday to the museum atChisfield, which the girls were all looking forward to; they are not togo on account of you. There were to be prizes at the break-up; they willnot be given on account of you. The girls will not know that you are thecause of this deprivation, but they will know that the deprivation istheirs because there is a guilty person in the school, and because shewill not confess. Evelyn, I give you a week from now to think thismatter over. Remember, my dear, that I know you are guilty; rememberthat my sister Lucy knows it, and Miss Thompson; but before you arepublicly disgraced we wish to give you a chance. We will treat youduring the week that has yet to run as we would any other girl in theschool. You will be treated until the week is up as though you wereinnocent. Think well whether you will indeed doom your companions to somuch disappointment as will be theirs during the next week, to so dark asuspicion. During the next week the school will practically be sent toCoventry. Those who care for the girls will have to hold aloof fromthem. All the parents will have to be written to and told that there isan ugly suspicion hanging over the school. Think well before you putyour companions, your schoolfellows, into this cruel position."
"It is you who are cruel," said Evelyn.
"I must ask God to melt your hard heart, Evelyn."
"And are you really going to do all this?"
"Certainly."
"And at the end of the week?"
"If you have not confessed before then I shall be obliged to confess foryou before all the school. But, my poor child, you will; you must makeamends. God could not have made so hard a heart!"
Evelyn wiped away her tears. She scarcely knew what she felt; shescarcely comprehended what was going to happen.
"May I bathe my eyes," she said, "before I go with you into theschoolroom?"
"You may. I will wait for you here."
The little girl left the room.
"I never met such a character," said Miss Henderson to herself. "Godhelp me, what am I to do with her? If at the end of a week she has notconfessed her sin, I shall be obliged to ask Lady Frances to remove her.Poor child--poor child!"
Evelyn came back looking pale but serene. She held out her hand to MissHenderson.
"I do not want your hand, Evelyn."
"You said you would treat me for a week as if I were innocent."
"Very well, then; I will take your hand."
Miss Henderson entered the schoolroom holding Evelyn's hand. Evelyn waslooking as if nothing had happened; the traces of her tears hadvanished. She sat down on her form; the other girls glanced at her insome wonder. Prayers were read as usual; the head-mistress knelt topray. As her voice rose on the wings of prayer it trembled slightly. Sheprayed for those whose hearts were hard, that God would soften them. Sheprayed that wrong might be set right, that good might come out of evil,and that she herself might be guided to have a right judgment in allthings. There was a great solemnity in her prayer, and it was feltthroughout the hush in the big room. When she rose from her knees sheascended to her desk and faced the assembled girls.
"You know," she said, "what an unpleasant task lies before me. Theallotted time for the confession of the guilty person who injured mybook, _Sesame and Lilies_, has gone by. The guilty person has notconfessed, but I may as well say that the injury has been traced home toone of your number--but to whom, I am at present resolved not to tell. Igive that person one week in order to make her confession. I do this forreasons which my sister and I consider all-sufficient; but during thatweek, I am sorry to say, my dear girls, you must all bear with her andfor her the penalty of her wrong-doing. I must withhold indulgences,holidays, half-holidays, visits from friends; all that makes lifepleasant and bright and home-like will have to be withdrawn. Work willhave to be the order of the hour--work without the impetus of reward--workfor the sake of work. I am sorry to have to do this, but I feel thatsuch a course of conduct is due to myself. In a week's time from now, ifthe girl has not confessed, I must take further steps; but I can assurethe school that the cloud of my displeasure will then alone visit theguilty person, on whom it will fall with great severity."
There was a long, significant pause when Miss Henderson ceased speaking.She was about to descend from her seat when Brenda Fox spoke.
"Is this quite fair?" she said. "I hope I am not asking an impertinentquestion, but is it fair that the innocent should suffer for theguilty?"
"I must ask you all to do so. Think of the history of the past, girls.Take courage; it is not the first time."
"I think," said Brenda Fox later on that same day to Audrey, "that MissHenderson is right."
"Then I think her wrong," answered Audrey. "Of course I do not know heras well as you do, Brenda, and I am also ignorant with regard to theordinary rules of school-life, but I cannot but feel it would be muchbetter, if the guilty girl will not confess, to punish her at once andput an end to the thing."
"It would be pleasanter for us," replied Brenda Fox; "but then, MissHenderson never thinks of that."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Miss Henderson is the sort of woman who would think verylittle of small personal pain and inconvenience compared with the injurywhich might be permanently inflicted on a girl who was harshly dealtwith."
"Still I do not quite understand. If any girl in the school did such adisgraceful thing it ought to be known at once."
"Miss Henderson evidently does know, but for some reason she hopes thegirl will repent."
"And we are to be punished?"
"Is it not worth having a little discomfort if the girl's character canbe saved?"
"Yes, of course; if it does save her."
"We must hope for that. For my part," said Brenda in a reverent tone, "Ishall pray about it. I believe in prayer."
"And so do I," answered Audrey. "But do you know, Brenda, that I thinkMiss Henderson was greatly wanting in tact when she mentioned my poorlittle cousin's name two days ago."
"Why so? Your cousin did happen to be alone in the room."
"But it seemed to draw a very
unworthy suspicion upon her head."
"Oh no, no, Audrey!" answered Brenda. "Who could think that your cousinwould do it? Besides, she is quite a stranger; it was her first day atschool."
"Then have you the least idea who did it?"
"None; no one has. We are all very fond of Miss Thompson. We are allfond of Miss Henderson; we respect her and Miss Lucy as most able andworthy mistresses. We enjoy our school-life. Who could have been sounkind?"
Audrey had an uncomfortable sensation at her heart that Evelyn at leastdid not enjoy her school-life; that Evelyn disliked Miss Thompson, andopenly said that she hated Miss Henderson. Still, that Evelyn couldreally be guilty did not for an instant visit her brain.
Meanwhile Evelyn went recklessly on her way. The _denouement_, ofwhatever nature, was still a week off. For a week she could be gay orimpertinent or rude or defiant or good, just as the mood took her; atthe end of the week, or towards the end, she would run away. She wouldgo to Jasper and tell her she must hide her. This was her resolve. Shewas as inconsequent as an infant. To save herself trouble and pain washer one paramount idea; even her schoolfellows' annoyance and distressscarcely worried her. As she and Audrey always spent their evenings athome, the dulness of the school, the increase of lessons and the absenceof play, the walks two and two in absolute silence, scarcely depressedher; she could laugh and play at home, and talk to her uncle and drawhim out to tell her stories of her father. The one redeeming trait inher character was her love for Uncle Edward. She was certainly goingdownhill very rapidly at this time. Poor child! who was there tounderstand her, to bring her to a standstill, to help her to chooseright?