CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
THE CONSEQUENCES.
When Rhoda opened her eyes she was lying in a strange bed, and some onewas sitting by her side, anxiously watching her face. It was not Nurse_par excellence_, but the matron of another house, whose features seemedunfamiliar, despite their kindly expression.
"You are better? You feel rested now?" she questioned, and Rhodastruggled wearily to form a a reply.
"My head aches. I feel--tired!"
"Yes, yes, of course. Don't speak, but lie quite still; I will staybeside you."
A soothing hand was pressed upon her own, and once again her eyesclosed, and she floated away into that strange, dream-like world.Sometimes all was blank, at other times she was dimly conscious of whatwent on around, as when voices murmured together by her side, and Nurserelated how she had spoken and answered a question, and the doctordeclared in reply that she was better, decidedly better! She was heavyand weary, and had no desire but to be left alone, while time passed byin a curious, dizzy fashion, light and darkness succeeding each otherwith extraordinary celerity. Then gradually all became clear; she waslying in the sick room where patients suffering from non-infectiouscomplaints were taken. The pressure at her head was giving way,allowing glimmering flashes of memory. What was it?--a terrible,terrible nightmare; a horror as of falling from a great height; asudden, numbing crash... Where has she been? What had she done? Andthen with another struggling gleam--the toboggan!
Her cry of distress brought the nurse to her side, while she gasped outa feeble--
"I remember! I was tobogganing.--I was too quick. I suppose I fell?"
"Yes, you fell, but you are better now; you are getting on finely. Justkeep quiet, and you will be up again in a few days."
There was a tone of relief in the good woman's voice as though there hadbeen another remembrance which she had feared to hear, but Rhoda did notnotice it, for a very few words seemed to tire her in those days, andher brain was unable to grasp more than one idea at a time.
The next time she awoke her mother was sitting by the bed. It appearedthat she had been staying in the house for the past four days, peepingin at the invalid while she slept, but waiting the doctor's permissionto appear before her waking eyes. Rhoda was languidly pleased to seeher, but puzzled to account for the air of depression which lay soconstantly on the once cheery face. If she were getting better, why dideveryone look so doleful--the doctor, her mother, Miss Bruce--everyonewhom she saw? She questioned, but could get no answer, struggled aftera haunting memory, which at one moment seemed at the point of shapingitself into words, and at the next retreated to a hopeless distance.And then suddenly, by one of those marvellous actions of the brain whichwe can never understand, the whole scene flashed upon her as she layupon her pillow, thinking of something entirely different, and nottroubling her head about the mystery.
She saw herself dragging the toboggan up the bank, felt again the horrorof that first mad rush, saw the girls flying to right and left beforeEvie's waving arms, and heard Evie's voice shriek aloud in the pain ofthe sudden collision. Her own agonised exclamation brought mother andnurse hurrying across the room to lay soothing hands upon her, and holdher down in bed as she cried out wildly--
"Oh, I remember! I remember! Evie! The toboggan dashed up the bank,and she was looking after the girls, and I crashed into her, and sheshrieked. Oh, Evie! Evie! She was hurt, terribly hurt... She felldown over me. Where is she now? I must go to her--I must go at once!"
The two watchers exchanged a rapid glance, and even in that moment ofagitation Rhoda realised that this was the awakening which they had beendreading, this the explanation of the universal depression. A new noteof fear sounded in her voice, as she quavered feebly:
"Is Evie--dead?"
"No, no, nor likely to die! She has been ill, but is getting betternow. She is in her own room, with Nurse to look after her. You cannotpossibly see her yet, for it would be bad for both."
"But you are sure she is better? You are sure she will get well? Youare not deceiving me just to keep me quiet?"
"No, indeed. It is the truth, that she is getting stronger every day.When I say that, you can believe that I am not deceiving you, can't you,dear?"
Yes, of course, she was bound to believe it; but in some patients thefaculties seem strangely sharpened in convalescence, and despite hermother's assurance Rhoda felt convinced that something was being keptback--that something had happened to Evie which she was not to beallowed to know. She asked no more questions, but with sharpened eyeswatched the faces of the visitors who were now allowed to see her, andfound in each the same shade of depression. She was waiting for anopportunity, and it came at last on the first day when she was allowedto sit up, and Miss Bruce came in to pay her usual visit. No one elsewas in the room, and Rhoda looked up into the strong, grave face, andfelt her heart beat rapidly. Now was her opportunity! Miss Bruce couldbe trusted to answer truthfully, however painful might be the news whichshe had to unfold; she was neither hard nor unsympathetic, but she hadthe courage of her convictions, and had faced too many disagreeableduties to understand the meaning of shirking. Rhoda clasped her handstightly together, swallowed nervously once or twice, and began--
"Miss Bruce please--I want to ask you--Mother won't tell me. Was it myfault that--Evie was hurt?"
The Principal's face hardened involuntarily.
"What do you think yourself, Rhoda? Your companions, as you know, arenever ready to speak against a friend, but I have made the strictestenquiries into this sad affair, and I hear that the girls warned youthat you were attempting a dangerous feat, and implored you to waituntil Miss Everett returned. You chose to disregard them, and to takeno thought of the risk to others, and--"
Rhoda turned, if possible, a shade paler than before.
"I see!" she said slowly. "I suppose it's no use saying that I neverthought I could hurt anyone but myself. I _should_ have thought!Everyone who knows me, knows that I love Evie, and would rather havebeen smashed to pieces than have harmed her in any way."
"Yes, Rhoda!" Miss Bruce sighed heavily, "that is quite true,nevertheless it seems to me a little inconsistent that you did not thinkmore of her feelings. She was responsible for your safety, and you canhardly have believed that she would have allowed such a mad trick.However, I don't wish to reproach you, for your punishment has beentaken out of my hands. Nothing that I could do or say could affect youhalf so much as the thought of the trouble which you have brought uponyour kind, good friend--"
It was coming now; it was coming at last! Rhoda's heart gave a wild,fluttering leap; she looked up breathlessly into the unbending face.
"What is the trouble? I thought she was like me--stunned and shaken. Inever heard--"
"No, it is not at all the same. You had a slight concussion, from whichyou have now recovered. Her injury is much more lasting. Her rightknee-cap was broken, and the doctors fear it will never be quite rightagain. She will probably be lame for life."
Rhoda turned her head aside, and said no word, and Miss Bruce stoodlooking down at her in silence also. The curly hair was fastened backby a ribbon tied in the nape of the neck, and the profile was stillvisible leaning against the pillows. It was motionless, except for onetell-tale pulse above the ear which beat furiously up and down, up anddown, beneath the drawn skin. The Principal looked on that littlepulse, and laid her hand pitifully on the girl's head.
"I will leave you now, Rhoda. You would rather be alone. I am trulysorry for you, but I am powerless to help. One can only pray that somegood may come out of all this trouble."
She left the room, and Rhoda was alone at last, to face the nightmarewhich had come into her life. Evie _lamed_, and by her doing! Evieinjured for life by one moment's thoughtlessness--rashness--call it_wickedness_ if you will--even then it seemed impossible that it shouldbe _allowed_ to have such lasting consequences! One moment'sdisobedience, and then to suffer for it all her life! to see Evi
e--dear,sweet, graceful Evie--limping about, crippled and helpless; to keep everin one's mind the memory of that last wild run--the last time Evie wouldever run! Could retribution possibly have taken to itself a moretorturing form? She had spoiled Evie's life, and brought misery into ahappy home.
"I could have borne it if it had happened to myself," she gasped. "Butno! I must needs get well, and be strong, and rich, and healthy. Isuppose I shall laugh again some day, and forget, and be happy, whileEvie--. I am a Cain upon earth, not fit to live! I wish I could diethis minute, and not have a chance to do any more mischief."
But we cannot die just because we wish to escape the consequences of ourown misdoing; we are obliged to live, and face them day after day.Crises of suffering, moments of humiliation, stabbing returns of painjust when we are congratulating ourselves that the worst is over--theymust be lived through, and though we fly to the ends of the world theywill still follow in our wake.
One of the consequences which Rhoda dreaded, and yet longed for incurious, contradictory fashion, was her first interview with Evieherself. What would she say? What would she do? Would she be sweetand self-forgetful as of old, or full of bitter reproaches? She couldgather no clue from her companions, and her first request to be allowedto visit the invalid in her room was vetoed on the ground that theexcitement would be bad for herself, and could do Evie no good. When,however, she was allowed to walk about, and even entertain hercompanions to tea, the first excuse could no longer be offered, and atlast, consent being given, she tapped tremblingly at the well-knowndoor. Nurse's voice bade her enter, and she walked forward with hereyes fixed on the bed on which Evie lay. Her face was thin and drawn,and had lost its colour, yet it was none of these things which struck achill to Rhoda's heart, but the expression in the eyes themselves--Evie's sweet brown eyes, which of old had been alight with kindlyhumour. They were blank eyes now, listless eyes, which stared andstared, yet seemed hardly to see that at which they gazed. Rhoda stoodbefore her for a full moment, before the light of recognition showed intheir depths, and even then it was a flicker more than a light, and diedout again with startling rapidity.
The girl stood trembling, the carefully rehearsed words fading away frommemory, for excuses and protestations seemed alike useless in thepresence of that despairing calm. She looked pitifully into the setface, and faltered out:
"Evie, I've come... I wanted to see you! I have thought about youevery minute of the time... I could not stay away--"
No answer. Evie might not have heard her speak, for all signs ofemotion which appeared on her face. Rhoda waited another moment andthen with a catch in her voice asked another question:
"Is--is your knee very painful, Evie?"
"No!" Evie winced at that, and turning towards the other side of thebed, held out her hand appealingly towards the Nurse, who took it in herown, and frowned a warning to the visitor.
"You had better go now, Miss. She isn't equal to much yet. You havegot your way and seen her, so just give her a kiss, and go quietlyaway."
Tears of disappointment rushed to Rhoda's eyes, and as she stooped togive that farewell kiss the salt drops fell upon Evie's cheeks, androused her momentarily from her lethargy.
"Poor Rhoda!" she sighed softly. "Poor little Rhoda!" then her eyesclosed, and Nurse took hold of the girl's arm and led her resolutelyaway.
"You look as if you were going to faint yourself, and I can't have twoof you on my hands," she said as soon as the corridor was reached, andthe door closed behind them. "You'll just come back to your own room,my dear, and lie down on the bed."
"Nurse--tell me! you have been with her the whole time, and know how shefeels. Will she ever forgive me? I never, never thought it would be sobad as this. She would not speak to me, would not look at me even."
"She wasn't thinking of you at all, my dear, she was thinking of herknee. That is all she can find time to think of just now. The doctorskept it from her as long as they could, but she questioned them, andwould not be put off, so they had to tell her the truth. She knows shewill be lame, and it has pretty well broken her heart. It's the breadout of her mouth, poor lamb, and she knows it. It will be many a longday before she is herself again."
And this was the end of Rhoda's first meeting with Laura Everett afterher accident!