There never was a woman more distressed1 and puzzled than Miss Henderson. She consulted with her sister, Miss Lucy; she consulted with her favorite teacher, Miss Thompson. They talked into the small hours of the night, and finally it was resolved that Evelyn should have another chance.
“I must appeal to her honor; it is impossible that any girl could be quite destitute3 of that quality,” said Miss Henderson.
“I am sure you are doing right, sister,” said Miss Lucy. “Once you harden 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 than terrible—if she grew up a wicked woman. How awful to have power and not to 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 a case for a right judgment4 in all things. Poor child! I pity her from my heart; but how to bring her to the necessary confession5 is the question.”
Miss Henderson went to bed, but not to sleep. 282 Early in the morning she arose, having made up her mind what to do.
Accordingly, when Audrey and Evelyn arrived in the pretty little governess-cart—Audrey with a high color in her cheeks, looking as sweet and fresh and good and nice as English girl could look, and Evelyn tripping after her with a certain defiance6 on her white face and a look of hostility7 in her brown eyes—they were both greeted by Miss Henderson herself.
“Ah, Audrey dear,” she said in a cheerful and friendly tone, “how are you 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? I will join you presently for prayers.—Evelyn, can I have a word with you?”
“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 going to tell Evelyn that she suspects her.”
“Evelyn,” said Audrey, “I will wait for you in the dressing-room if Miss Henderson has no objection.”
“But I have, for it may be necessary for me to detain your cousin for a short time,” said Miss Henderson. “Go, Audrey; do not keep me any longer.”
Evelyn stood sullenly8 and perfectly9 still in the hall; Audrey disappeared in the direction of the 283 schoolrooms. Miss Henderson now took Evelyn’s hand and led her into her private sitting-room10.
“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 not want anybody to be sorry for me. I am one of the most lucky girls in the world. Sorry for me! Please don’t. Mothery could never bear to be pitied, 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 allude11 to your mother. I understand from Lady Frances that your mother is dead. You loved her, did you not?”
Evelyn gave a quick nod; her face seemed to say, “That is nothing to you.”
“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 284 your mother was good to you because she loved you, and you loved her back; you tried to please her because you loved her.”
“Oh, bother!” said Evelyn.
“Come here, dear.”
Evelyn did not budge12 an inch.
“Come over to me,” said Miss Henderson.
Miss Henderson was not accustomed to being disobeyed. Her tone was not loud, but it was quiet and determined14. She looked full at Evelyn. Her eyes were kind. Evelyn felt as if they mesmerized15 her. Step by step, very unwillingly16, 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 you are 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,” said Evelyn.
“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 by way of excusing my own conduct. I will say nothing of either sorrow or anger. I want to state a fact to you.”
“Get it over,” said Evelyn.
Miss Henderson now approached the table; she 285 opened the History at the reign17 of Edward I., and taking two tiny fragments of torn paper from the pages of the book, she laid them in her open palm. In her other hand she held the mutilated copy of Sesame and Lilies. The print on the torn scrap18 exactly corresponded with the print in the injured volume. Miss Henderson glanced from Evelyn to the scraps19 of paper, and from Evelyn to the 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 it on the table by her side.
“Between now,” she said, “and this time yesterday Miss Thompson discovered these scraps of paper in the copy of the History which you had to read on the morning of the day when you first came to school. The scraps are evidently part of the pages torn from the injured book. Have you anything to say with regard to them?”
Evelyn shook her head; her face was white and her eyes bright. But there was 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 pallid20 face. The obstinacy21 of the mouth was very apparent. The cleft22 in the chin still further showed the curious bias23 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 286 prayers to-day explain these circumstances to the whole school, and allow the school to draw its own conclusions?”
Evelyn now raised her eyes and fixed24 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 circumstantial evidence?”
“No. What is it?”
“You are very ignorant, my dear child—ignorant as well as wilful25; wilful as 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 now shown you to the rest of the school, and allow the school to draw its own 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 some extraordinary reason, were the person who tore the book. Why you did it is beyond my conception, is beyond Miss Thompson’s conception, is beyond the conception of my sister Lucy; but that you did do it we none of us for 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 will not be unkind to you, my poor little girl. I am sorry for one so ignorant, so wanting in all conceptions of right or wrong. Tell 287 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 vexed26 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 me then.”
Evelyn stood silent. Miss Henderson, taking the History with her, left the 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 a wild creature in a trap. To scream would do no good. Never before had the spoilt child found herself in such a position. A wild agony seized her; even now she did not repent27.
If only mothery were alive! If only she were back on the ranch28! If only Jasper were by her side!
“Oh mothery! oh Jasper!” she cried; and then a sob13 rose to her throat, tears burst from her eyes. The tension for the time was relieved; she huddled29 up in a chair, and sobbed30 as if her heart would break.
Miss Henderson came back again in half an hour. Ev............