Sharing Her Crime: A Novel

by May Agnes Fleming

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE "STAR OF THE VALLEY."

  ----"Face and figure of a child, Though too calm, you think, and tender, For the childhood you would lend her."--BROWNING.

  The winter was now drawing on. The short, bleak November days had come,with their chill winds and frosty mornings. Miss Hagar looked at theslight, delicate form and pale little face of her _protegee_, and beganto talk of keeping her at home, instead of sending her to school duringthe winter months.

  Celeste listened, and never dreamed of opposing her wishes, but stoleaway by herself, and shed the first selfish tears that had ever fallenfrom her eyes in her life. It was so pleasant in school, among so manyhappy young faces, and with the holy, gentle-voiced Sisters of Charity,and so unspeakably lonesome at home, with nothing to do but look out ofthe window at gray hills and leafless trees, and listen to the drearysighing of the wind. Therefore Celeste grieved in silence, and strove tokeep back the tears when in Miss Hagar's presence, lest she should thinkher an ungrateful, dissatisfied little girl.

  One morning, however, as Miss Hagar entered the deserted parlor, shefound Celeste sitting in the chimney-corner, her face hidden in herhands, sobbing gently to herself. A little surprised at this, for thechild seemed always smiling and happy before her, Miss Hagar took her onher knee, and asked what was the matter.

  "Nothing," replied Celeste, though her cheek glowed crimson red, as shefelt she was not speaking the truth.

  "People don't cry for nothing, child!" said the aged spinster, severely."_What's the matter?_"

  "Please, Miss Hagar, I'm so naughty, but--but--I don't want to leaveschool."

  "Don't want to leave school? Why, child, you'd freeze to death going toschool in the winter."

  "But Minnette goes," pleaded Celeste.

  "Minnette's not like you, little lily. She's strong and hardy, anddoesn't mind the cold; it only brings living roses to her cheeks; but_you_, little whiff of down that you are, you'd blow away with the firstwinter breeze."

  Celeste had no reply to make to this. She only hung down her head, andtried very hard to swallow a choking sensation in her throat.

  At this moment Archie burst in, in his usual boisterous manner, allaglow with snow-balling Louis. Master Rivers seemed in very goodcondition, notwithstanding the loss of Gipsy; though I rather think hewould have been induced to knock any one down who would tell him he hadforgotten her.

  "What! in trouble again, little sis? Who's been bothering you now? Justgive me a hint, and I'll invite them not to do it again."

  "Why, the little simpleton is crying because I won't let her freezeherself to death going to school all winter!" said Miss Hagar.

  "Oh, that's it--is it? Dry up your tears, then, Birdie; there's 'balm inGilead' for you. Yesterday, that good-natured old savage, SquireErliston, hearing me tell Louis that Celeste could not go to schoolowing to the distance, immediately insisted that we should all use hisfamily sleigh for the winter. Now, Miss Hagar, see how those radiantsmiles chase her tears away. We'll nestle you up in the buffalo robes,and dash off to school with you every morning to the music of thejingling sleigh-bells. Eh, puss? won't it be glorious?"

  "What's that?" said Minnette, entering suddenly.

  "Why, Squire Erliston has given his sleigh up to Pussy here to take herto school, and perhaps we'll take you if you're not cross, though thesquire has no particular love for you."

  "Thank you for nothing," said Minnette, scornfully; "but I wouldn't goif you did ask me. Before I'd be such a baby!" she added, glancingcontemptuously at Celeste.

  And Minnette was as good as her word, positively refusing even thestormiest mornings to go in the sleigh. Archie exhausted all hiseloquence, and Celeste pleaded tearfully, offering to stay at home andlet her take her place; but Minnette answered all their entreaties by asullen "I won't." Even when Louis, the only living being to whom herhigh, stubborn will would bend, pleaded with her to come, she onlyturned away, and said, in a tone _very_ gentle for her:

  "No, Louis, don't ask me; I can't go. Why should I? I'm no tremblinglittle coward like Celeste. I _love_ the winter!--yes, twice as well asthe summer! The summer is too still, and warm, and serene for me! Butthe winter, with its maddening winds and howling storms, and white,frosty ground and piercing cold breeze, sends the blood bounding likelightning through every vein in my body, until I fly along, scarcelytouching the ground beneath me! Louis, walking alone through thedrifted snow, I feel no cold; but in your warm sleigh beside _her_, myheart would feel like ice!"

  "Strange, wild girl that you are! Why do you dislike Celeste so much?"

  "I don't know. I never liked any one in my life--at least not more than_one_. Do _you_ like her?" she said, lifting her eyes, glancing withdusky fire, to his face.

  "Like her!" he exclaimed, shaking back his short, black curls, while hisfull, dark eye kindled--"like that lovely little creature! that gentlelittle dove! that sweet little fairy! beautiful as an angel! radiant asa poet's dream! bewitching as an Eastern houri! Like her! Oh, Minnette!"

  She paused for a moment, and fixed her gleaming eyes on the bright,handsome face, sparkling with boyish enthusiasm; then, without a word,turned away, and fled from his sight.

  And from that moment her hatred of Celeste redoubled tenfold in itsintensity. Every opportunity of wounding and insulting the sensitiveheart of the gentle child was seized; but every insult was borne withpatience--every taunt and sarcasm met with meek silence, that onlyexasperated her merciless tormentor more and more. Sometimes Celestewould feel rising in her bosom a feeling of dislike and indignationtoward her persecutor; and then, filled with remorse, she would kneel inthe chapel and meekly pray for a better spirit, and always risestrengthened and hopeful, to encounter her arch-enemy, with her tauntingwords and deriding black eyes.

  One last incident, displaying forcibly their different dispositions, andI have done with the _children_, Minnette and Celeste, forever.

  The Sisters had purchased a beautiful new statue of the Madonna, andplaced it in the refectory until it could be properly fixed in thechapel. The children were repeatedly forbidden to enter the refectorywhile it was there, lest it should accidentally be broken.

  One day, the Sisters had given a _conge_, and their pupils were outplaying noisily in the large garden and grounds attached to the convent.Minnette, who never liked to mingle in a crowd, selected three of theboldest spirits present, and proposed they should play "Puss in thecorner" by themselves.

  "Oh! we can't here in this great big place," was the reply; "besides,the other girls will be sure to join us."

  "Let us go into the class-room, then," said the adventurous Minnette.

  "Sister Mary Stanislaus is sweeping out the class-room, and she won'tlet us," said one of the girls.

  "Well, then, there's the refectory," persisted Minnette.

  "Oh! we daren't go there! Mother Vincent would be dreadfully angry. Youknow the new statue is there!" said the girls, aghast at the very idea.

  "Such cowards!" exclaimed Minnette, her lip curling and her eyeflashing. "I wish Gipsy Gower were here. _She_ would not be afraid."

  "_I_ ain't a coward! I'll go!" cried one, following the daring Minnette,who had already started for the forbidden room. The others, yielding totheir bolder spirit, followed after, and soon were wildly romping in therefectory.

  Suddenly, Minnette, in her haste, rushed against the shelf where thestatue stood. Down it came, with a loud crash, shivered into a thousandfragments.

  The four girls stood pale, aghast with terror. Even Minnette's heart fora moment ceased to beat, as she gazed on the broken pieces of theexquisite statue. It was but for a moment; all her presence of mindreturned, as she breathlessly exclaimed:

  "Sister will be here in a moment and catch us. Let us run out and jointhe other girls, and she'll never know who did it."

  In an instant they were rushing pell-mell from the room. Minnette wasthe last, and as she went out her eye fell upon Celeste coming along thepassage. A project
for gratifying her hatred immediately flashed acrossher mind. Seizing Celeste by the arm she thrust her into the refectory,closed the door, and fled, just as the Sister, startled by the noise,came running to the spot.

  She opened the door! There stood Celeste, pale and trembling, gazing inhorror on the ruins at her feet.

  An involuntary shriek from Sister Stanislaus brought all the nuns andpupils in alarm to the spot. Celeste had entered the forbiddenroom--had, by some accident, broken the beautiful and costly statue;that was a fact self-evident to all. She did not attempt to deny it--hertrembling lips could frame no words, while the _real_ culprits stoodboldly by, silent and unsuspected.

  Celeste was led away to appear before "Mother Vincent," and answer theheavy charge brought against her. She well knew how it all happened, andcould very easily have cleared herself; but she had just been reading alecture on humility and self-denial, and heroically resolved to bear theblame sooner than charge Minnette. "Minnette will hate me worse thanever if I tell," she thought; "and I must try and get her to like me.Besides, I deserve punishment, for I felt dreadfully bad and naughty,when she made the girls laugh at me this morning."

  So Celeste met the charge only by silence, and sobs, and tears; andMother Vincent, leading her into the class-room, where all the girlsand teachers were assembled, administered a public reproof.

  "Had it been any of the other girls," she said, "she would not have feltsurprised; but Celeste was such a good girl generally, she was indeedsurprised and grieved. It was not for the loss of the statue she caredmost--though _that_ could scarcely be replaced--but so glaring an act ofdisobedience as entering the refectory could not go unpunished.Therefore, Sister Mary Joseph would lead Celeste off and leave her byherself until school was dismissed, as a warning to be more obedient infuture."

  And Celeste, with her fair face flushed with shame--her bosom heavingwith sobs as though her gentle heart would break--was led away to thenow unforbidden refectory, and left alone in her deep sorrow. The realculprits sat silent and uneasy, starting guiltily when a low, suppressedsob would now and then reach their ear. But Minnette, with her blackeyes blazing with triumph, her cheeks crimson with excitement, sat boldand undaunted, proud and rejoicing in her victory.

  That evening one of the girls, unable to endure the stings ofconscience, went to the Mother Superior and nobly confessed the whole.The good lady listened amazed, but silent. Celeste was released, broughtbefore her, and confronted with Minnette.

  "Why did you tell this falsehood, Minnette?" said the justly indignantlady, turning to her.

  "I told no falsehood, madam," she said, boldly, though her cheek glowedlike fire, and her falcon eye fell beneath the keen, steady gaze of theother.

  "You _acted_ a falsehood, then, which is quite as bad," said MotherVincent; "and I am pained beyond measure to find so artful and wicked adisposition in one so young. And you, my child," she added, drawingCeleste toward her and caressing her golden head; "why did you sufferthis wrong in silence?"

  "Because I deserved it, Mother; I didn't like Minnette this morning,"she answered, dropping her pale face sadly.

  A glance that might have killed her, it was so dazzlingly, intenselyangry, shot from the lightning eyes of Minnette.

  After a few brief words, both were dismissed. The sleigh stopped to takeup Celeste, and Minnette walked proudly and sullenly home.

  When she reached the house she found Celeste standing in the doorway,with Louis beside her, twining her golden curls over his fingers. Allthe evil passions in Minnette's nature were aroused at the sight.Springing upon her, fairly screaming with rage, she raised her clenchedhand and struck her a blow that felled her to the ground. Then dartingpast, she flew like a flash up the polished oaken staircase, and lockedherself in her own room; but not until the wild cry of Louis at thedemoniac act reached her ear, turning her very blood to gall.

  He sprang forward, and raised Celeste up. She had struck on a sharpicicle as she fell, and the golden hair clung to her face clotted withthe flowing blood. Pale and senseless, like a broken lily, she lay inhis arms, as, with a heart ready to burst with anguish, Louis bore herinto the house and laid her on a sofa. His cry brought Miss Hagar to thespot. She stood in the doorway, and with her usual calmness surveyed thescene. Celeste lay without life or motion on the sofa, and Louis bentover her, chafing her cold hands, and calling her by every tender andendearing name.

  "Some of Minnette's handiwork," she said, coming forward; "poor littlewhite dove, that vulture would tear out your very heart if she could.But my words will come true, and some day she will find out she has aheart herself, when it is torn quivering and bleeding in strong agonyfrom the roots."

  "Oh, Miss Hagar, do you think she is dead?" cried Louis, his brave,strong heart swelling and throbbing in an agony of grief.

  "No; I hope not. Ring the bell," was her answer.

  Louis obeyed; and having dispatched the servant who answered it for thedoctor, she proceeded to wash the blood from the wound. Doctor Wisemancame in with the utmost indifference; listened to the story, said it was"just like Minnette;" thought it ten chances to one whether she wouldever recover; gave a few general directions as to how she was to betreated, and went off to sip his coffee and read the newspaper.

  Louis' indignation knew no bounds.

  "Leave this detestable old house," he exclaimed impetuously, to MissHagar; "take Celeste over to Sunset Hall, and live with us. Grandfatheris rough, but kind and generous; and you and poor little Celeste will bewarmly welcomed. _Do_ come, Miss Hagar."

  "No, Louis," said Miss Hagar, shaking her head. "I thank you for yourkind offer; but I cannot be dependent on anybody. No; I cannot go."

  "But, good heavens! Miss Hagar, will you stay and let that hawk-heartMinnette kill this poor, gentle little soul, who is more like an angelthan a living child."

  "No," said Miss Hagar; "there is a cottage belonging to me about half amile from here, at a place called Little Valley. You know it, of course.Well, I shall have it furnished; and as soon as Celeste recovers, if sheever _does_ recover, poor child, I shall go there. Thank the Lord! I'mable to support myself; and there she will be beyond the power ofMinnette."

  "Beyond the power of Minnette," thought Louis, as he walked homeward."Will she _ever_ be beyond the power of that mad girl? What can havemade her hate that angelic little creature so, I wonder?"

  Ah, Louis! Ten years from hence will _you_ need to ask that question?

  The indignation of all at Sunset Hall at hearing of Minnette'soutrageous conduct was extreme. The squire was sure that "bedeviledtigress would never die in bed." Mrs. Gower's fat bosom swelled withindignation, and even Lizzie managed to drawl out "it was positively toobad." And immediately after hearing it Mrs. Gower ordered out thesleigh, and loading it with delicacies for the little sufferer, set outfor Deep Dale, where she found her raving in the delirium of a brainfever.

  Days and weeks passed ere Celeste rose from her bed, pale and weak, andfrailer than ever. Minnette, with proud, cold scorn, met the reproachfulglances of those around her; and never betrayed, by word or act, theslightest interest in the sufferer. Only once, when Celeste for thefirst time entered the parlor, supported by Louis, did she start; andthe blood swept in a crimson tide to her face, dyeing her very templesfiery red. She turned aside her head; but Celeste went over, and takingher unwilling hand, said, gently:

  "Dear Minnette, how glad I am to see you once more. It seems such a longtime since we met. Why did you not come to see me when I was sick?"

  "You had more agreeable company," said Minnette, in a low, cold voice,glaring her fierce eyes at Louis as she arose. "Excuse me," and shepassed haughtily from the room.

  Miss Hagar's Valley Cottage was now ready for her reception; and as soonas Celeste could bear to be removed they quitted Deep Dale. Celeste sheda few tears as she bade good-bye to the doctor and Minnette, but theywere speedily turned to smiles as Louis gayly lifted her in his arms andplaced her in the sleigh beside Archie. Then, seating himself
on theother side of her, he shouted a merry adieu to Minnette, who seemedneither to see nor hear him as she leaned, cold and still, against thedoor. Miss Hagar took her seat in front with the driver; and off thewhole party dashed.

  As the spring advanced the roses once more bloomed upon the pale cheeksof Celeste; and the fair "Star of the Valley," as Master Louis hadpoetically named her, was known far and wide. Celeste had never been sohappy before in her life. Every day brought Louis or Archie to thecottage, with books, flowers, or pictures, or something to present their"star" with. And as yet Celeste loved them both alike, just as she didMiss Hagar, just as she did Mrs. Gower. Though weeks and months passedaway, Minnette never came near them. Sometimes Celeste went with theboys to see her; but her reception was always so cold and chilling that,fearing her visits displeased her, she at last desisted altogether.

  And Minnette, strange girl that she was, lived her own life in secret.She sat in her own room, silent and alone, the livelong day; for afterthat eventful morning on which the statue was broken, she would go toschool no more. With her chin leaning on her hand, she would sit forhours with her glittering black eyes fixed on the fire, thinking andthinking, while the doctor sat silently reading by himself, untilfinally Master Archie, with a jaw-splitting yawn, declared that he_would_ go and be a Sister of Charity if they'd take him; for of all theold tombs ever he heard of, Deep Dale beat them hollow.