by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XVIII.
AUGUSTA'S SIGNATURE.
A few days later the four girls went into the country. At first Nanwas so delighted with the change that she forgot all her trials andworries; the air was so fresh, and the gardens round the house sobeautiful; the woods, which were near by, were so fragrant, so shady,so delicious to roam about in; and last but not least came the walksby the seashore, the long rambles on the yellow sands, the hours whenthe girls floated away in their little boats on the surface of theblue waters. But still happier hours were those when the yacht carriedthem like a white bird over the dancing waves. Oh! all day and everyhour was perfect with bliss. Nan sometimes wondered what had happenedto her. Was she indeed the little girl who had lived a sad and anxiousand lonely life in a back-street in London; who had wanted for clothesand for nourishing food; who had been satisfied with the delights ofher doll, and who had known no better joys? Indeed, she was very farfrom being the same. It is true that in the old days she had mother,and mother counted for a good deal in Nan's loving heart. But motherhad suffered sorely, and God and the good angels had taken her away.Yes, Nan was happy now. She did not mind confessing it--she was happy;and the world was good, and all the friends she had made were verykind to her.
Miss Roy accompanied the children into the country, and for the firstfortnight all went well. Night after night the marks were put down inthe orderly-book, and day after day the Captain's scheme for theimprovement of his little band of soldiers was carried out, and at theend of each week Miss Roy sent to the Captain a report of progress.But the good-natured, kind-hearted governess was going for herholidays, and Mrs. Richmond was coming to the country to take herplace. On the day before Miss Roy left Augusta came into the prettyroom which was used as a schoolroom at Fairleigh. Miss Roy was justclosing the orderly-book; she raised her eyes as Augusta advanced.
"Well, dear," said the governess, "can I do anything for you?"
"I have been wondering," Augusta answered, "who will put down ourmarks in your absence."
"I believe," said Miss Roy, "that Mrs. Richmond will undertake thatduty."
"But why trouble Aunt Jessie? I could do it so nicely if you wouldentrust it to me."
Miss Roy looked full up at Augusta.
"I think not," she said slowly; "it would not be fair to the others."
"But why? I should be absolutely fair to them and to myself."
"It is not to be thought of," said Miss Roy a little sharply. "Mrs.Richmond must undertake this responsibility."
Augusta said no more, and early the next morning the governess wentaway. A week or so after her departure Uncle Peter was expected. IfNora and Kitty had been wild with delight at the thought of his visitwhen he came to London, now there were four eager and anxious girlswaiting to welcome him. What would he say? How would he look? Whatexpeditions would he plan? In what manner would he add to thefascination and happiness of these long summer days?
Mrs. Richmond raised her eyes from the letter which announced hisarrival, and looked at the four eager faces.
"Well, dears," she said, "it is a great relief to me that your uncleshould be coming. You see," she added, "I call him your uncleindiscriminately, for I am given to understand that Peter has adoptedyou all as nieces."
"I love him fifty times better than an ordinary uncle," cried Nan,with extraordinary fervour.
Augusta gave her a spiteful glance, and Mrs. Richmond, for a wonder,noticed it. She noticed it, and it disturbed her. She had a greataffection for her sister's child, and believed fully in Augusta,having never yet encountered any of that young lady's acts of deceit;but the look on her face was arresting and disturbing, and she thoughtabout it when the children went out for their "morning walk.
"What could it have meant?" thought the kind-hearted woman; and thenshe rose and went slowly to the secretaire in her study, and opening adrawer, she took out her sister's last letter. The sentences which hereyes rested on ran as follows:
"I am very loath, my dear Jessie, to put any suspicious thoughts intoyour head with regard to my darling and only child, but her father andI both feel that you ought to know that there have been times in herlife when she has not been quite straight. Say nothing of this,Jessie, but perhaps in dealing with her character you will be more justto her, more fair to her, and more able to influence her if you get ahint of the truth."
"Not quite straight," murmured Mrs. Richmond; and she put the letterback into its envelope and locked the drawer in which she kept it. Anhour afterwards she went out. She was walking slowly through ashrubbery which ran at the back of the house when the sound of voicesfell on her ears. There was a high-pitched voice which undoubtedlybelonged to Augusta, and there were the low and sweet tones of Nan.
Augusta was holding Nan by both her hands. She was a great deal tallerthan the little girl, and a great deal stronger, and she had drawn thechild close to her.
"I would kill you if you told," she said, with extraordinary passion."But there! you know you daren't. Go--I hate you!" and she pushed Nanfrom her, who ran fast and quickly out of sight.
Mrs. Richmond waited for a moment, too stunned to move or to speak.Then she went quickly round the tall holly which had hidden her fromAugusta's view, and putting her hand on the girl's shoulder, turnedher round.
"My dear," she said.
"Yes, Aunt Jessie," said Augusta; "what is it?" She had managed tocontrol herself, and her face looked almost as usual.
"I happened to overhear you just now, Gussie, and I must say that yourwords displeased me very much. I do not understand what you weretalking about, but you used the most cruel and unjustifiableexpressions. I wish to say, my dear, that I cannot permit you to bullylittle Nancy. The child is an orphan, and I should be very angry ifany one were unkind to her. As to the meaning of your words, Augusta,I think they demand an explanation."
"Oh, Aunt Jessie!" said Augusta, "Nan is terribly provoking; she issuch a peculiar little thing that she sometimes almost drives me wild.She has been fretting and fidgeting about a trifling matter for days."
"Something she wants to tell?" interrupted Mrs. Richmond. "And whyshould she not tell? Why should you be so violent as to terrify thepoor child by informing her that you would kill her if she told? Howdared you say anything so wicked?"
"I lost my temper, Aunt Jessie, and that is the truth. The whole thingreferred to a little matter with regard to myself which I do not wantany one to know. You surely would not encourage Nancy to be atell-tale!"
"I feel it is my duty to speak to her," said Mrs. Richmond.
"Oh no, no, Aunt Jessie! I beseech you not;" and going close up toher, Augusta raised her hand to her lips and kissed it.
"Please--please, Aunt Jessie, don't say anything about it. I will makeit up with Nan, and I promise never to be so nasty again. You cannotspeak to her, you know, for you happened to overhear us; and it wouldnot be fair, would it?"
"No; perhaps not," said Mrs. Richmond a little doubtfully. "Well, mydear, I don't want to be hard on you, and you know I have always lovedyou very much."
"And I am away from my parents, too," said Augusta, eager to takeadvantage of Mrs. Richmond's softening mood. "And I am really awfullysorry that I lost my temper that time. I will go this very minute toNan and make it up with her. You won't speak to her about it, willyou, Aunt Jessie?"
"I suppose not; but I hope very much that I am doing right."
"Why, Aunt Jessie, you have never found me out in any meanness yet,have you? Why should you doubt me now?"
"I will try not to doubt you, dear. I will try to believe in you.Only, one thing, Augusta, your unkindness to Nan will have at least toundergo this punishment--you will receive a bad mark in theorderly-book for your conduct tonight."
Now, up to the present Augusta's marks in the orderly-book had beengood, and she had done her utmost to fulfil the letter at least ofCaptain Richmond's conditions. She had abstained from rudeness orroughness in her manner. She had--to the Richmond girls at least--beengood-natured. Her
private cruelties and unkindnesses to Nancy were notknown to the rest of the party. Nancy herself never told. Augusta hadtherefore received good marks for conduct as well as for generalintelligence and physical discipline. Her great hope was that CaptainRichmond would bestow upon her what he called the Victoria Cross ofhis scheme; for after having received so valuable a proof of herexcellent conduct, her father and mother would be abundantlysatisfied, and would send her, on their return, to the longed-forschool in Paris. But a bad mark for conduct just the day before theCaptain's return would seriously interfere with Augusta's schemes. Shewalked down the shrubbery in deep thought and very much disturbed inher mind. Through the shrubbery there was a winding and very prettypath straight to the seashore. On the shore the Richmonds had arrangeda tent. The tent was placed above high-water mark, and it was not onlyused for bathing purposes, but was also a favourite resort of thechildren's for all kinds of picnics and pleasure expeditions. Theyused to sit there with their work and storybooks. They often broughttheir tea there. It was their favourite place of retirement, too, bethe weather wet or fine. Augusta now approached the tent, wondering ifNancy were there. Nan had withdrawn far back into its darkest corner;she was not reading, although a story-book lay at her side. She hadevidently been crying very bitterly, for her face was disfigured andher eyes swollen. Augusta looked at her with great dislike; then itoccurred to her that Nancy might be very useful to her, and in shortthat there was no use in making her unhappy. She sank down on acushion near the little girl's side, and said in a voice which shetried to make very sad and sympathetic:
"I am awfully angry with myself, Nancy. I know I ought not to havespoken to you as I did. I hope you will forgive me and let bygones bebygones."
Nancy was naturally of a forgiving temperament; she looked up atAugusta now, and said in a low tone:
"Why do you say such dreadful things to me? Why must I keep myconscience burdened because of you?"
"Now, listen, Nancy," said Augusta; "I am speaking quite frankly toyou. I will be as open to you as you are to me."
"Well, what are you going to say?" asked Nancy.
"This: it might do me great harm if you were to tell now, but if youwill only wait until the holidays are over and we are back in town,why, I will give you leave to say anything you please."
"Why would my telling now injure you? I need not mention your name. Ijust want to tell dear, kind Mrs. Richmond about my own part. And ofcourse I want to tell Uncle Peter. It is so dreadful to look into hiseyes and to know that I am not what he thinks me! May I not tell mypart and leave yours out? Please--please let me, Gussie. You can'tknow the pain of the burden I am bearing, and how miserable I am."
"You couldn't tell your part without telling mine," said Augusta, "andI don't wish mine spoken about at present. You will have to be silent.But never mind, Nancy; you--shall tell, as I promised you, when we getback to London. Won't you be kind to me and keep the secret untilthen?"
"And may I positively--certainly--tell when we get back to London?"asked the child.
"Yes; have I not said it? And now, let us talk no more of the matter."
"But, Augusta," said Nancy, rising, "will you do something for me--ifI agree to this, will you do something definite?"
"Oh, what a queer child you are!" said Augusta. "What am I to do?"
"Will you write it down?"
"I write it down! Why should I do that?"
"Will you give me the words in writing? _Nancy may tell when shegets back to town_: just those words, and sign them '_Augusta_'."
Augusta had her own reasons for wishing to please the little girl.
"And here is some paper," said Nancy, "and here is a pencil. Writethe words down, Augusta, and let me keep the paper."
"Here is some paper," said Nancy, "and here is a pencil.Write the words down, Augusta, and let me keep the paper."]
"You will never show any one?" said Augusta.
"Indeed--indeed I won't."
"And if I do this for you, will you do something for me?"
"If I can."
"Very well." Augusta spoke in quite a cheerful tone. "I will do whatyou wish and sign the paper, and you can keep it and show it to me toremind me of my promise when we get back to London. In the meantimeyou mustn't talk any more of this nonsense. You mustn't worry me frommorning to night as you have been doing ever since I have had thepleasure of knowing you. And there is still something more."
"I won't talk of it; and I'll be very, very grateful," said Nancy.
"Well; child, so far so good; but now for my real condition. Do youknow, Nancy, that you--you little wretch!--have just got me into amost horrible scrape?"
"How?" asked Nancy, fixing her wondering eyes on Augusta's face.
"You have, you monkey--you have. This is what you have done. When Iwas talking to you just now in the shrubbery, and giving you someplain words with regard to your conduct, you put on the airs of amartyr, and, lo and behold, little Miss Martyr! somebody listened, andsomebody was very angry."
"Whom?" asked the child.
"No less a person than my aunt Jessie. You ran away in one of yourfits of passion and left me to face the brunt of the storm. Didn't Iget it, too? Oh, Aunt Jessie was in a rage! She spoke of you as if youwere a poor, half-murdered angel. I declare it was sickening to hearher. And there is worse to follow. You know what we all think of UnclePeter and his scheme, and how anxious we are to get the best that hecan give us; and I want the Royal Cross that he has promised to themost victorious."
"Oh no, Augusta," said Nancy, with a faint and quickly suppressedsmile; "you can't mean that you are going in for that."
"And why not, miss? I mean to go in for it."
"Well, but the Royal Cross is for valour and noble conduct,and--Augusta, you can't mean it."
"You are a nice child!" said Augusta, her eyes flashing with fury."How dare you speak to me like that, you poor little charity-girl,kept here by Aunt Jessie--kept here out of kindness"----
"Oh, don't! You dare not say that! It is not true."
"Well, I won't. But really, Nancy, you have the power of nearlydriving me mad; a more irritating creature I have never come across.But now, what I want you to do is this. Aunt Jessie is angry, and sheis going to give me a bad mark to-night in the orderly-book; and if Iget it I am done for, for a bad mark for conduct will be talked aboutand commented on, and my chances of the great prize will bepractically _nil_. Now, I want you, Nancy, to tell her that I wasnot to blame this morning, or at least _scarcely_ to blame; thatyou were very naughty and irritating, and it was no wonder I gotcross. You must do everything in your power to prevent her giving me abad mark. And remember another thing, Nancy; if she asks you what wasthe matter, you are not to let out _anything_. Simply say:'Augusta is rather quick-tempered, and I worried her and talkednonsense. I was to blame, and not Augusta, and she ought not to have abad mark.' Do you promise? Surely you can do nothing else when youhave got me into this horrid scrape."
Nancy thought hard for a minute.
"I do want to get that paper signed!" she said to herself. "It willmake things quite right when we get back to London, for Gussie cannotgo back from her own written promise; and then, too, I need tell nolie to Mrs. Richmond." So after a moment she said:
"Very well; I will do my best. Of course, I can't promise to succeed,but I will do my best."
"That is all right," said Augusta. "Here, give me that half-sheet ofpaper."
Nan did so.
Augusta wrote quickly, finishing with a dashing signature.
"There!" she said; "keep it carefully. Don't, for goodness' sake, letany one see it. And now, run off as fast as you can and find AuntJessie."
