by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XI.
THE MIDDLE WAY.
On the following Sunday Nan came to Mrs. Richmond with a request.
"I do so want to see Mr. Pryor!" she said. "I have not seen him for twoor three months; and he said that he was always at home on Sundays.May I go there this afternoon with Susan? Do, please, let me, Mrs.Richmond."
"Certainly, Nan dear; I am always glad that you should see yourmother's dear old friend."
So after early dinner, Nan, dressed in her pretty and neat mourning,started off, accompanied by Susan, to visit Mr. Pryor. She had notventured to the house where her mother had died before, for on thelast occasion of their meeting Mr. Pryor had come to see her. The doorwas opened by Phoebe, who, in her delight at seeing Nan, forgot alldecorum, and shocked Susan almost out of her wits by flinging her armsround the little girl's neck and hugging her tightly.
"Oh, Miss Nan! it is good to see you; and my missus, Mrs. Vincent, willbe that pleased! You will come down, miss, and have a cup of tea withmy mistress before you go back, won't you? Oh! it is elegant you look.What a pretty frock, miss! It ain't cut by our pattern, be it, miss?"
"No," said Nan. "Please, Phoebe, can I see Mr. Pryor?"
"It is delighted he will be to see you, darling. I'll just run up andask him. Won't you come into the parlour, dear? The parlour lodgershas gone, and there is no one there at present. Wait a minute, love,while I inquire whether Mr. Pryor is in. Oh! of course he must be; butI'll go and find out."
Nan and Susan went into the parlour, and presently Phoebe rusheddownstairs.
"Mr. Pryor says you are to go up this very minute, miss. And he hasordered tea for two, and muffins and cream. And perhaps this youngperson would come to the kitchen."
Poor Phoebe glanced with admiring eyes at Susan. Susan's manners werestaid and of a rebuking character. She did not think Phoebe at all thesort of girl she would care to associate with; but as Nan said in acareless tone, "Yes, Susan, go downstairs," and then ran by herself tothe drawing-room floor, there was nothing for it but to obey.
"What an elegant young lady Miss Nan has grown," said Phoebe. "Comedownstairs, won't you, miss? My mistress will make you right welcome."
So Susan had to make the best of it, and tripped down, accompanied byPhoebe.
Upstairs a very hearty welcome had taken place. Mr. Pryor had kissedNan, and taken her hand and made her seat herself in the mostcomfortable armchair in the room; and then he had stood in front ofher and looked her all over, from her head to the points of her neatlittle shoes.
"Well, Nancy," he said, "and how goes the world?"
"I am very unhappy," replied Nan at once. "For a time I felt better,but I am unhappy now. I have a great big secret, and it weighs on meand gets heavier and heavier every day; and I can never tell it, notto you nor to anybody; and I can never, never, never now be the bestgirl that mother wanted me to be."
"That is very sad indeed, Nancy," replied her friend; "and I cannotunderstand it, my dear. Nobody ought to be in the position you havejust described yourself to be in, far less a little girl who istreated with such kindness and love."
"It is because I am loved, and because they are so sweet, that I am sodreadfully unhappy," said Nan. "I have told a lot of lies, Mr. Pryor,and I can never unsay them. I can never tell the truth, for if I didthose whom I love would cease to love me. When it began I did notthink it would be such a big thing, but now it has grown and grown,and I can think of nothing else. My lessons, and my play, and mywalks, and even dear little Jack, are not a bit interesting to mebecause of this big Thing. There is no way out, Mr. Pryor; there is noway out at all."
"That is not true, Nancy, my dear."
Mr. Pryor sat down and looked thoughtful. The little girl's face, thetone of her voice, the suffering which filled her eyes, showed himthat her sorrow, whatever its nature, was very real.
"Suppose we ask God to help us out of this," he said after a moment'spause.
"I don't want to ask God, for I know what He will say, and I cannot doit."
"What will God say, Nancy?"
"That I must tell--that I am to tell the people what I did. And theywill never, never forgive me, and I cannot tell--I cannot tell, Mr.Pryor."
"Then, my dear Nancy, why did you come to see me?"
"Because I thought perhaps you would find the middle way."
"The middle way, Nancy?"
"The way between the very naughty and the very good. There must be amiddle way, and I want to get into it and to keep in it. Cannot youfind it for me?"
"I have never heard of it, Nancy--never. I am afraid there is nomiddle way. You have done, I take it, something wrong; and you have,I take it, told a lie about it."
"That is it."
"And one lie, as is invariably the case, has led to another, and toanother, and to another."
"Oh yes, Mr. Pryor, that is certainly it."
"And each lie makes your poor little heart feet more sad, and each lieshuts out more and more of the beautiful sunshine of God's love fromyour spirit. Nancy, there is no middle way. You must go on tellingthose lies, and adding to the misery of your life, and getting lowerand lower and your heart harder and harder, until after a time thathappens which"----
"What?" said Nan. "You frighten me."
"That happens which is the result of sin. You do not suffer any morepain; your conscience ceases to prick you; that voice within you istired, and will not speak any more because you have treated it sobadly. That is what will happen in the lower path on which you arepreparing to walk."
"You terrify me. I am sorry I came. I will not stay any longer. Icould not tell."
"Come here, Nancy, and let us talk it over."
"I cannot--I do not want to say any more. Let us forget it."
"My dear child, you would not have come to me if you had nothoped"----
"Yes; I hoped that you would show me the middle path."
"There is none. Nancy dear, will you not confide in me if I faithfullypromise that I will not tell any one what you have done."
Nan paused to think.
"I should like to," she said, "but I have promised not to tell."
"Who did you promise?"
"I cannot even tell you that. Perhaps I will some day; perhaps I willget the person to allow me to tell you. It is a dreadful thing, and itseemed so small at the beginning! I am a very unhappy girl."
"It requires a little pluck to get out of this dilemma, Nancy. But thestrong hand of God would help you over this crisis in your life, and,lo and behold! the darkness would go, and sunshine and joy would beyours again."
"I hoped so once, but I spoke to Kitty the other morning. I made up asort of case, and I tried to find out what she would feel; and shesaid that if anybody had done such an awful thing, that person wouldbe her enemy, and she would never, never forgive her. And then sheasked me what I meant, and if anybody had done it; and I told a lot offresh lies, and said no--nobody had done it; and I cannot go to Kittynow and tell her that I did it after all."
"You are very mysterious, Nancy, and you make me very unhappy; but ifyou have quite made up your mind to go on being a naughty girl andadding to this burden of lies, I will not talk about it any more justnow. But I will pray a great deal for you, and beg of God not to letyour conscience go to sleep."
"Oh, please, do not, for I am so miserable!"
"Here comes the tea. Will you pour me out a cup?" was Mr. Pryor'sanswer.
Phoebe, with her beaming face, brought in the tray.
"If you please, miss, Mrs. Vincent would like to see you very muchbefore you go away. Susan is having an agreeable time in the kitchenwith a new-laid egg and buttered toast to her tea; and Mrs. Vincentwill be so glad to see you once again, miss!"
Nan murmured something. Phoebe left the room. Even Phoebe noticed theshadow on the little face.
"Now, come," said Mr. Pryor; "you know exactly how I like my tea; pourit out for me. One lump of sugar and a very little cream. Ah! that isright."
Nan mini
stered to the dear old gentleman, and as he chatted upon everysubject but the one closest her heart, she tried to cheer up for hissake.
By-and-by her visit came to an end. She bade Mr. Pryor good-bye. Hetold her that he would be in any day if she wished to speak to him,but he did not again allude to her secret. Mrs. Vincent was enrapturedwith Nan's appearance, and made her turn round two or three times inorder to get a good view of the cut of her dress.
"I declare, Phoebe," she said, "you could take the pattern of that inyour mind, so to speak. It is a very stylish little costume; mostelegant it would look on my little granddaughter, Rosie Watson."
Phoebe sniffed in a somewhat aggressive way; she did not consider thatRosie Watson had any right to the same pattern as Nan. Soon afterwardsSusan and Nan left the house and went back to Mayfield Gardens.
