CHAPTER XXXIII
CONFESSION.
Yes, Annie Colchester had made up her mind. There was only one thing tobe done; she must see Mr. Parker without a moment's delay, make fullconfession, and fling herself upon his mercy.
"Even prison would be better than this present agony," thought the poorgirl. "Whatever happens, I cannot face the Achesons again without theirknowing the truth."
With the first dawn she rose and dressed, and then wrote a little noteto Mrs. Acheson.
"You will think badly of me, and no wonder," wrote Annie. "The man whotried to steal the wooden box last night was my brother Rupert. Yes, hewas my brother. He cut the square of glass out of the window, andentered your house as a common burglar. Pray, don't do anything untilyou hear from me again. I am going to Mr. Parker."
Belle found this note, read its contents, flushed slowly all over,rubbed her forehead in a distracted way, and then, hiding the note inthe pocket of her dressing-gown, returned to her own room.
"Poor Annie has gone out of her mind," she said to herself. "Mr.Colchester, that charming, scholarly, delightful man enter the house inorder to take my box of money--impossible! I should not believe it if athousand Annie Colchesters swore to it. This note is my property, and Irefuse to divulge its contents for the present."
Meanwhile Annie wandered about the streets until it was time for Mr.Parker to appear at his office. He had been called unexpectedly out oftown on the previous day, or events would have come to an issue beforenow. On his arrival this morning he looked eagerly through hiscorrespondence, and had just taken up the letter from the expert and wasreading its contents when his clerk entered, said that Miss Colchesterhad called, that she looked in serious trouble, and wished to see Mr.Parker without delay.
"Ask Miss Colchester into my waiting-room, and say I will send for herpresently," was the reply.
The clerk withdrew. Mr. Parker continued to read the expert's letter.
"I thought so," he said to himself; "he says the writings are notidentical, that they have not been written by the same person. MissAnnie little knows what a trap she has got into. She is just here in thenick of time. Yes, I will see her; I will get the whole naked truth outof her. Guilty! of course she is guilty. After she has made herconfession she shall come with me to the Gilroys. What an old, blindfool I have been. How could I ever doubt a girl with a face likeLeslie's?"
He stood up as he spoke. The expert's letter had pleased him; but hecould not but own that he felt nearly as puzzled as ever.
"Bless me if I know what it means even now," he said anxiously tohimself.
The puzzled man was standing on his hearth. His hair was wildly rubbedover his head, and his eyes looked fiercer than Annie had ever seen themwhen she entered the room.
"Well, Miss Colchester," he said, "may I ask what is the meaning of thisvisit? It so happens that I am anxious to see you, and should havecalled upon you if you had not come to me. But, as a rule, I do not seepeople on private business in my office."
"I have come to speak to you about Leslie Gilroy," said Annie. "You arefond of Leslie?"
"It does not matter to you whether I care for her or not. What have yougot to say about her?"
"Only that she is quite innocent," said Annie. "She never wrote thatletter."
Mr. Parker's face wore an ugly sneer.
"I wonder now," he said, coming a step or two forward, "if you have beenfollowing me about on the sly for the last day or two? Do you happen toknow that I had taken that letter and also the writing Leslie Gilroyleft here the other day to Essex the expert? You are sharp enough toknow most things. Did you find out about that?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"My meaning is plain enough. It is better to make confession before opendetection, is it not?"
"I don't know anything," continued Annie; "I have never heard of Mr.Essex before. I am the most wretched, miserable girl in the world. Icame to you to confess, not knowing that you were able to expose me. Itdoes not matter now in the very least whether you expose me or not, forI am going to expose myself. I did write that letter. I knew at the timethat it was forgery; but I was desperate. Rupert wanted sixty pounds. Hesaid that if he did not get the money he would be locked up; the policewere already after him. He owed the money for a debt of such a naturethat if he did not pay it he would be locked up."
"Well, all this is coming to the point with a vengeance," said Mr.Parker.
Annie clutched hold of the nearest chair to steady herself.
"I am miserable, and I know that I deserve imprisonment, or anything youlike to give me," she said.
"We will leave out the question about your deservings for the present,"said the merchant. "What I want is the truth, the whole truth, andnothing but the truth."
"Well, I did it," said Annie; "I did commit forgery. I was nearly mad. Ihave always loved Rupert better than I ought. He was my only brother,and I--I could never turn from him. It was idolatry, and I am punished."
"Go on with your story," said Mr. Parker.
"I am doing so; only you must give me time. Rupert wanted the money, andI was distracted. Leslie and I were roomfellows; she was always good tome."
"A nice return you have made for her kindness."
"I know that well; but you cannot understand the temptation. There, Idon't mean to excuse myself. On the very evening when I saw Rupert, andfound out all about his trouble, Leslie talked about you. I was sostartled to find that she also knew you. She told me what you were doingfor her, how liberal you were with your money, how very kind. She saidthat her father had been your greatest friend, and that you had made asort of promise to help his children. As she spoke, a desperate ideacame into my head. I was always very clever at imitating handwriting,and there was plenty of Leslie's about. The idea of making her appear towrite to you for money came into my brain, and would not go away again.I thought of it all night, and the scheme seemed almost impossible to bedetected, and was my last and only resource. I rose very early, got holdof some of Leslie's handwriting, copied it carefully, wrote the letterwhich I brought to you, got permission to go to London from MissLauderdale, and saw you that afternoon. You gave me the money. I took itback. I gave it to Rupert."
"But even now I do not understand," said Mr. Parker. "I came down toWingfield the next day. I was very much disturbed, I can tell you. Thatletter, which seemed to be Leslie's, shook my faith. I always consideredher the finest, sweetest girl I had ever come across, like, very like,one whom I have lost; but no matter, you are unworthy to hear that name.I came to Wingfield, and I saw Leslie, and she knew all about it; shedid not deny anything."
"That is because she was noble. I was obliged to tell her the truth, andshe resolved to screen me and take the consequences."
"'Pon my word! I never heard anything like this in the whole course ofmy life," said Mr. Parker. "Noble! I should think she was; but what wereyou made of? You allowed her! Think what she suffered. I distrusted her,and you allowed her to screen you."
"I did, for Rupert's sake. I know I was bad, but I was not wholly bad.She knew that if it were discovered I should be expelled from St.Wode's, and my chance in life would be over, so she agreed to screen me.I didn't guess at the time how much she would suffer, and what it wouldmean to her. Leslie saw Rupert and told him that if he would leave thecountry, and never return, she would keep his secret and mine. Rupertpromised to go away. He went, and I thought I should never see himagain. Then I lost my interest in my work. I found I could not study;and when I passed my exam. I only took an ordinary, and my prospectswere more or less ruined. I was terribly poor, for the little money thatI had saved I had already given to my brother. When my own money wasnearly gone I went to Leslie; that was a few days ago. I heard that youwanted a secretary, and I begged and implored of her to ask you to giveme the post. Leslie did not like asking you. She said you were terriblychanged to her; but at last she consented. She came here with me. Youtold her that if she told the real truth about the money you would giv
eme the post. How could she tell you the truth without ruining me? Weboth knew it was all up then, although she implored me at the eleventhhour to make confession; but I could not--how could I without ruiningRupert?"
"You conscience has become very tender since then," said Mr. Parker."How is it you are here this morning?"
"I will tell you. Because Rupert himself has opened my eyes. Oh, I lovehim still; yes, I love him still; but my heart is broken. I don't carewhat happens to me. Friends of mine of the name of Acheson asked me tostay with them for a week. I had only fourteen shillings in the world,and I thought I would go. Mrs. Acheson was very kind--she was like amother to me; but on the very day I went, on the day I saw you last, Imet my brother. He had never gone away; he had broken his word toLeslie; he had got into fresh, awful trouble. He wanted more and moremoney; and, oh, Mr. Parker, last night he broke into the very housewhere I was staying, in order to steal some money which was in thedrawing-room. What am I to do? Oh, if I might only die!"
The miserable girl fell on her knees, burying her face in a chair nearby; her faint sobs sounded through the room.
Mr. Parker stood still for a moment, the color in his face was comingand going. What was he to do? He hated Annie Colchester, and yet fromthe bottom of his soul he pitied her. Before he could decide anything,there came a knock at the door.
"Particularly engaged just now," he called out.
"It's Miss Gilroy, sir. She wants to see you as soon as possible."
"Miss Gilroy! Bless my soul! what can she have come about?"
"Oh, do let her in. I know she will plead for me. She will ask you notto be too bitterly hard," said poor Annie.
Mr. Parker opened the door.
"Come right in, Leslie," he said. His manner had changed; there was atremble in his deep voice.
Leslie came eagerly forward.
"I have come to ask you if you know anything about Annie Colchester,"she began. "We are in dreadful trouble about her; she has disappeared,and---- Why, what is it? You seem to know something. What is wrong?"
"Only that I have learned the truth at last, Leslie. Annie Colchester ishere; she has confessed everything. Stand up, Annie, and speak thismoment."
But Annie was past this, her head was buried in her hands, and sobsshook her frame. Leslie gave one glance from Mr. Parker to Annie, andthen sprang forward.
She fell on her knees by Annie's side, and put her arms round her.
"Oh, poor, poor Annie; have you really confessed?" said Leslie. "It wasbrave of you, dear; it was brave." She put her arms round Annie's neckand began to kiss her.
"Oh, you don't know how she has been tried and tempted," she continued,turning to the merchant. "You cannot be angry with her any longer. Eventhe worst sinner ought to be forgiven when he confesses; and Annie issorry, so sorry."
Leslie's kisses fell on Annie's hot cheeks like rain. After a time Annieslightly moved her position, and stole one arm softly round Leslie'sneck.
Mr. Parker looked at the two.
"Bless my soul! this will upset me," he muttered to himself. "Never meta girl like Leslie; it makes one believe in Christianity; that it does."
He suddenly left the room. An hour later he came back.
Annie was now quite collected and calm. She had told Leslie everything.Leslie went straight up to Mr. Parker, and took his hand.
"You have got to do something for me," she said.
"I'll do anything for you, Leslie; I feel fit to die when I think how Imistrusted you."
"You had good reasons to mistrust me, and I am not the least surprised.You need not reproach yourself in the very least. Now, if you will dosomething, if you will grant me a great, great favor, I shall be thehappiest of girls; I shall gladly rejoice in the thought of my pastsuffering if it can help Annie now."
"You want a favor for her?"
"I do; and I know you will grant it."
"It would be difficult for me to refuse you anything; but what is it?"
"I want you to do this. I don't wish Rupert Colchester, bad as he is, tobe locked up. I want him to leave the country; I want you to see that hegoes. He must be seen off, for Annie is not to be persecuted by him anylonger. When he is away I want Annie to become your secretary. I will beresponsible for her conduct, for her probity and honesty; she shall comeand live at my mother's, and she shall work for you. Annie must besaved. Oh, I love her, Mr. Parker; I love her, notwithstanding her sin.She was terribly tempted. You and I do not know anything of suchtemptation; but now we will save her, won't we? Will you do this for mysake?"
"I declare I'd do anything in the world for you; but it's rather a bigorder. I shan't mind helping that poor girl; but the brother! is he togo off scot-free?"
"For Annie's sake, yes. It would hurt her too terribly if he werepunished. Give him one last chance, Mr. Parker; he may be saved even atthe eleventh hour. Oh, you are the best man I know; prove it now."
"And this would make you quite happy, my dear?"
"It would make me so happy I should scarcely know how to contain myself.Oh say 'Yes,' here and now."
"Then here is my hand on it; I say it here and now."
* * * * *
Mr. Parker was as good as his word. He was not a man to do things byhalf-measures, and he did not lose an hour in taking means to discoverRupert Colchester's whereabouts. He found that young man hiding from thepolice, gave him such a talking to that even he felt a little ashamed;and finally, securing a berth for him on board a vessel which was boundfor Australia, saw him off himself on the following day. The curtaindrops forever on Rupert as far as this story is concerned.
Annie is happy at last, notwithstanding her great trials. She is verybusy, and has little time to think. She makes an excellent secretary; ispainstaking, persevering, clever, and affectionate. Mr. Parker does notlike to own it; but he is really getting very fond of her, and actuallyasks her advice on several matters in the most unwarrantable andunbusinesslike manner. Annie lives with Mrs. Gilroy, who is as kind askind can be to the motherless girl.
As to the other girls, whose opening lives have been so briefly sketchedin these pages, they are some of them still undergraduates at St.Wode's, and some are starting in the real battle of life; but they areall without exception doing well.
Lettie has given up her collegiate training, has entered society, makingMrs. Chetwynd very happy by so doing, and is much liked for her cheerfuland taking manners and her pretty face.
Eileen has quite recovered her health and strength. She and Marjorie arestill at St. Wode's, and Marjorie never forgets that time when Godanswered her prayer and spared Eileen's life.
Leslie is more beautiful and more beloved than ever by all those whoknow her. Mr. Parker openly talks of her as his adopted daughter, andher love for the old man is the sunshine of his declining years.
Belle hopes to open her hostel within a year at the latest. There is achange for the better in Belle, and she is less arrogant than formerly,although she still firmly believes that the true aim of a woman's lifeis to delve in the rich soil of past literature and not to troubleherself much about the future.
One and all in their different ways are going forward to a goal. Eachhas an ideal which will never be quite realized on earth; but each withstrength and courage has learned to take her part bravely in life'sbattle. To each has been accorded a strength higher than her own, whichenables her to refuse the evil and choose the good.
THE MASTERLY AND REALISTIC NOVELS OF FRANK NORRIS
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THE OCTOPUS. A Story of California.
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BLIX.
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A novel of romance and adventure, of love and valor, of mystery and hidden treasure. The hero is required to spend a whole year in the isolated house, which according to his grandfather's will shall then become his. If the terms of the will be violated the house goes to a young woman whom the will, furthermore, forbids him to marry. Nobody can guess the secret, and the whole plot moves along with an exciting zip.
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THE MAIN CHANCE. With illustrations by Harrison Fisher.
A "traction deal" in a Western city is the pivot about which the action of this clever story revolves. But it in the character-drawing of the principals that the author's strength lies. Exciting incidents develop their inherent strength and weakness, and if virtue wins in the end, it is quite in keeping with its carefully-planned antecedents. The N. Y. _Sun_ says: "We commend it for its workmanship--for its smoothness, its sensible fancies, and for its general charm."
ZELDA DAMERON. With portraits of the characters by John Cecil Clay.
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GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers, New York
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