by L. T. Meade
sighed when she mentioned her Greek."I was in your room studying Greek all the evening; no one could havecome to take the money."
"It is gone, however," said Maggie. She spoke with new cheerfulness.The look on Prissie's face, the tone in her voice, made Maggie blush atever having suspected her. "It is gone," she said, in quite a light andcheerful way, "but I am really sorry I mentioned it. As I said justnow, I don't intend to investigate the matter. I may have fallen asleepand taken the five-pound note out in a dream and torn it up, or put iton the fire. Anyhow, it has vanished, and that is all I have to say.Come, Prissie, I want to hear what Miss Heath said to you last night."
"No," suddenly exclaimed Annie Day, "Miss Peel, you must not leave theroom just now. You have made a statement, Miss Oliphant, which I forone do not intend to pass over without at least asking a few questions.You did not tear up that note in a dream. If it is lost, someone tookit. We are St Benet's girls, and we don't choose to have this kind ofthing said to us. The thief must confess, and the note must bereturned."
"All right," said Maggie, "I sha'n't object to recovering my property.Priscilla, I shall be walking in the grounds; you can come to me whenyour council of war is over."
The moment Maggie left the room, Rosalind Merton made a remark. "MissPeel is the only person who can explain the mystery," she said.
"What do you mean?" asked Priscilla.
"Why, you confess yourself that you were in Miss Oliphant's room thegreater part of the evening."
"I confess it?" remarked Priscilla; "that is a curious phrase to applyto a statement. I confess nothing. I was in Maggie's room, but what ofthat? When people confess things," she added, with a naivete whichtouched one or two of the girls, "they generally have done somethingwrong. Now, what was there wrong in my sitting in my friend's room?"
"Oh, Miss Oliphant is `your friend'?" said Rosalind.
"Of course, of course." But here a memory came over Priscilla; sheremembered Maggie's words the night before--"You _were_ my friend." Forthe first time her voice faltered, and the crimson flush of distresscovered her face. Rosalind's cruel eyes were fixed on her.
"Let me speak now," interrupted Miss Day. She gave Rosalind a piercingglance which caused her, in her turn, to colour violently. "It is justthis, Miss Peel," said Annie Day: "you will excuse my speaking bluntly,but you are placed in a very unpleasant position."
"I? How?" asked Prissie.
"Oh, you great baby!" burst from Rosalind again.
"Please don't speak to me in that tone, Miss Merton," said Priscilla,with a new dignity, which became her well. "Now, Miss Day, what haveyou to say?"
To Prissie's surprise, at this juncture, Nancy Banister suddenly lefther seat, and came and stood at the back of her chair.
"I am on your side whatever happens," she remarked.
"Thank you," said Prissie.
"Now, please, Miss Day."
"You must know who took the note," said Annie Day.
"I assure you I don't; I can't imagine how it has disappeared. Not asoul came into the room while I was there. I did go away once for aboutthree minutes to fetch my Lexicon; but I don't suppose anyone came intoMiss Oliphant's room during those few minutes--there was no one about tocome."
"Oh, you left the room for about three minutes?"
"Perhaps three--perhaps not so many. I had left my Lexicon in thelibrary; I went to fetch it."
"Oh," said Rosalind, suddenly taking the words out of Miss Day's mouth,"when did you invent this little fiction?"
Prissie's eyes seemed suddenly to blaze fire; for the first time sheperceived the drift of the cruel suspicion, which her fellow-studentswere seeking to cast upon her. "How wicked you are!" she said toRosalind. "Why do you look at me like that? Miss Day, why do yousmile? Why do you all smile? Oh, Nancy," added poor Prissie, springingto her feet, and looking full into Nancy's troubled eyes, "what is thematter?--am I in a dream?"
"It is all very fine to be theatrical," said Miss Day, "but the fact is,Miss Peel, you are not at all popular enough at St Benet's to induceany of us to consent to live under a ban for your sake. Miss Oliphanthas lost her money. You say that you spent some time in her room; thepurse was on her bureau. Miss Oliphant is rich, she is also generous,she says openly that she does not intend to investigate the matter. Nodoubt, if you confess your weakness and return the money, she willforgive you, and not report this disgraceful proceeding to the collegeauthorities." While Miss Day was speaking, some heavy panting breathscame two or three times from Priscilla's lips. Her face had turned coldand white; but her eyes blazed like living coals.
"Now I understand," she said, slowly; "you think--you think that I--Istole a five-pound note from my friend; you think that I went into herroom and opened her purse, and took away her money; you think that ofme--you! I scorn you all, I defy you, I dare you to prove your dreadfulwords! I am going to Miss Heath this moment; she shall protect me fromthis dishonour."
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
IN THE ANTE-CHAPEL OF ST HILDA'S.
Priscilla ran blindly down the corridor which opened into the wideentrance-hall. Groups of girls were standing about; they stared as thewild-looking apparition rushed past them: Prissie was blind to theirpuzzled and curious glances. She wanted to see Miss Heath; she had aqueer kind of instinct, rather than any distinct impression, that inMiss Heath's presence she would be protected, that Miss Heath would knowwhat to say, would know how to dispel the cloud of disgrace which hadsuddenly been cast over her like a cloak.
"Is there anything wrong, Miss Peel?" said gentle little Ada Hardy,coming up and speaking to her affectionately. Miss Hardy stood right inPrissie's path, barring her way for a moment, and causing her, in spiteof herself, to stop her headlong rush to the Vice-Principal's room.Priscilla put up her hand to her brow; she looked in a dazed sort of wayat the kind-hearted girl.
"What is the matter--can I help you?" repeated Ada Hardy.
"You can't help me," said Prissie. "I want to see Miss Heath; let mepass." She ran forward again, and some other girls, coming out of thedining-hall, now came up to Ada and distracted her attention.
Miss Heath's private sitting-room was on the ground floor. This lovelyroom has been described before. It was open now, and Prissie went inwithout knocking; she thought she would see Miss Heath sitting as sheusually was at this hour, either reading or answering letters; she wasnot in the room. Priscilla felt too wild and impetuous to consider anyaction carefully, just then; she ran up at once to the electric-bell,and pressed the button for quite a quarter of a minute. A maidservantcame quickly to answer the summons. She thought Miss Heath had sent forher, and stared at the excited girl.
"I want to see Miss Heath," said Priscilla; "please ask her to come tome here; say Miss Peel wants to see her--Priscilla Peel wants to seeher, very, _very_ badly, in her own sitting-room at once. Ask her tocome to me at once."
The presence of real tragedy always inspires respect; there was noquestion with regard to the genuineness of Prissie's sorrow just then.
"I will try and find Miss Heath, Miss, and ask her to come to youwithout delay," answered the maid. She softly withdrew, closing thedoor after her. Priscilla went and stood on the hearthrug. Raising hereyes for a moment, they rested on a large and beautiful platinotype ofG.F. Watts's picture of "Hope." The last time she had visited MissHeath in that room, Prissie had been taken by the kind Vice-Principal tolook at the picture, and some of its symbolism was explained to her."That globe on which the figure of Hope sits," Miss Heath had said, "ismeant to represent the world. Hope is blindfolded in order moreeffectually to shut out the sights which might distract her. See theharp in her hand, observe her rapt attitude--she is listening tomelody--she hears, she rejoices, and yet the harp out of which she makesmusic only possesses one string--all the rest are broken." Miss Heathsaid nothing further, and Prissie scarcely took in the full meaning ofthe picture that evening. Now she looked again, and a passionate agonyswept over her. "Hope has one
string still left to her harp with whichshe can play music," murmured the young girl; "but oh! there are timeswhen all the strings of the harp are broken; then, Hope dies."
The room door was opened, and the servant reappeared.
"I am very sorry, Miss," she said, "but Miss Heath has gone out for themorning. Would you like to see anyone else?"
Priscilla gazed at the messenger in a dull sort of way. "I can't seeMiss Heath?" she murmured.
"No, Miss, she is out."
"Very well."
"Can I do anything for you, Miss?"
"No, thank you."
The servant went away with a puzzled expression on her face.
"That plain young lady, who is so awful poor--Miss Peel, I mean--seemsin a sad taking," she said by-and-by to her fellow-servants.
Priscilla, left alone in Miss Heath's sitting-room, stood still for amoment, then, running upstairs to her room, she put on her hat andjacket, and went out. She was expected to attend two lectures thatmorning, and the hour for the first had almost arrived. Maggie Oliphantwas coming into the house when Prissie ran past her.
"My dear!" she exclaimed, shocked at the look on Priscilla's face."Come here; I want to speak to you."
"I can't--don't stop me."
"But where are you going? Mr Kenyon has just arrived. I am on my wayto the lecture-hall now."
"It doesn't matter."
"Aren't you coming?"
"No."
This last word reached Miss Oliphant from a distance; Prissie hadalready almost reached the gates.
Maggie stood still for a moment, half inclined to follow the excited,frantic-looking girl, but that queer inertia, which was part of hercomplex character, came over her. She shrugged her shoulders, theinterest died out of her face; she walked slowly through theentrance-hall and down one of the side corridors to the lecture-room.
When the Greek lecture had come to an end, Nancy Banister came up andslipped her hand through Maggie's arm.
"What is the matter, Maggie?" she asked, "you look very white andtired."
"I have a headache," answered Maggie. "If it does not get better, Ishall send for a carriage and take a drive."
"May I come with you?"
"No, dear Nancy, when I have these bad headaches it is almost necessaryto me to be alone."
"Would it not be better for you to go and lie down in your room?"
"I, to lie down in my room with a headache like this?--no, thank you."Maggie shuddered as she spoke. Nancy felt her friend's arm shiver asshe leant on it.
"You are really ill, darling!" she said, in a tone of sympathy andfondness.
"I have not felt right for a week, and am worse to-day, but I daresay adrive in this nice frosty air will set me up."
"I am going to Kingsdene. Shall I order a carriage for you?"
"I wish you would."
"Maggie, did you notice that Priscilla was not at her lecture?"
"She was not. I met her rushing away, I think, to Kingsdene; she seemedput out about something."
"Poor little thing; no wonder--those horrid girls!"
"Oh, Nancy, if there's anything unpleasant, don't tell me just now; myhead aches so dreadfully, I could scarcely hear bad news."
"You are working too hard, Maggie."
"I am not; it is the only thing left to me."
"Do you know that we are to have a rehearsal of _The Princess_ to-night?If you are as ill as you look now, you can't be present."
"I will be present. Do you think I can't force myself to do what isnecessary?"
"Oh, I am well acquainted with the power of your will," answered Nancy,with a laugh. "Well, good-bye dear, I am off; you may expect thecarriage to arrive in half an hour."
Meanwhile, Priscilla, still blind, deaf, and dumb with misery, ran,rather than walked, along the road which leads to Kingsdene. The daywas lovely, with little faint wafts of spring in the air; the sky waspale blue and cloudless; there was a slight hoar frost on the grass.Priscilla chose to walk on it, rather than on the dusty road; it feltcrisp under her tread.
She had not the least idea why she was going to Kingsdene; her wish wasto walk, and walk, and walk until sheer fatigue, caused bylong-continued motion, brought to her temporary ease and forgetfulness.
Prissie was a very strong girl, and she knew she must walk for a longtime; her feet must traverse many miles before she effected her object.Just as she was passing St Hilda's College she came face to face withHammond. He was in his college cap and gown, and was on his way tomorning prayers in the chapel. Hammond had received Maggie's letterthat morning, and this fact caused him to look at Priscilla with newinterest. On another occasion, he would have passed her with a hurriedbow. Now he stopped to speak. The moment he caught sight of her face,he forgot everything else in his distress at the expression of miserywhich it wore.
"Where are you going, Miss Peel?" he asked; "you appear to be flyingfrom something, or, perhaps, it is _to_ something. Must you run? See,you have almost knocked me down." He chose light words on purpose,hoping to make Prissie smile.
"I am going for a walk," she said; "please let me pass."
"I am afraid you are in trouble," he replied then, seeing thatPriscilla's mood must be taken seriously.
His sympathy gave the poor girl a momentary thrill of comfort; sheraised her eyes to his face, and spoke huskily.
"A dreadful thing has happened to me," she said.
The chapel bell stopped as she spoke; groups of men, all in their capsand gowns, hurried by; several of them looked from Hammond to Priscilla,and smiled.
"I must go to chapel now," he said; "but I should like to speak to you.Can I not see you after morning prayers? Would you not come to theservice? You might sit in the ante-chapel, if you did not want to comeinto the chapel itself. You had much better do that. Whatever yourtrouble is, the service at St Hilda's ought to sustain you. Pleasewait for me in the ante-chapel. I shall look for you there afterprayers."
He ran off just in time to take his own place in the chapel, before thedoors were shut, and curtains drawn.
Without a moment's hesitation, Priscilla followed him. She entered theante-chapel, sat down on a bench not far from the entrance door, andwhen the service began, she dropped on her knees, and covered her facewith her hands.
The music came to her in soft waves of far-off harmony. The doors whichdivided the inner chapel from the outer gave it a faint sound, as if itwere miles away; each note, however, was distinct; no sound was lost.The boys' voices rose high in the air; they were angelic in theirsweetness. Prissie was incapable, at that moment, of taking in themeaning of the words she heard, but the lovely sounds comforted her; thedreadful weight was lifted, or, at least, partially lifted, from herbrain; she felt as if a hand had been laid on her hot, angry heart; asif a gentle, a very gentle, touch was soothing the sorrow there.
"I am ready now," said Hammond, when the service was over; "will youcome?"
She rose without a word, and went out with him into the quadrangle; theywalked down the High Street.
"Are you going back to St Benet's?" he asked.
"Oh, no--oh, no!"
"`Yes,' you mean; I will walk with you as far as the gates."
"I am not going back."
"Pardon me," said Hammond, "you _must_ go back; so young a girl cannottake long walks alone. If one of your fellow-students were with you, itwould be different."
"I would not walk with one of them now for the world."
"Not with Miss Oliphant?"
"With her, least of all."
"That is a pity," said Hammond, gravely, "for no one can feel morekindly towards you."
Prissie made no response.
They walked to the end of the High Street.
"This is your way," said Hammond, "down this quiet lane; we shall get toSt Benet's in ten minutes."
"I am not going there. Good-bye, Mr Hammond."
"Miss Peel, you must forgive my appearing to interfere with you, but itis ab
solutely wrong for a young girl, such as you are, to wander aboutalone in the vicinity of a large university town. Let me treat you asmy sister for once, and insist on accompanying you to the gates of thecollege."
Prissie looked up at him. "It is very good of you to take any notice ofme," she said, after a pause. "You won't ever again after--after youknow what I have been accused of. If you wish me to go back to StBenet's, I will; after all, it does not matter, for I can go outby-and-by somewhere else."
Hammond smiled to himself at Prissie's very qualified submission. Justthen a carriage came up and drove slowly past them. Miss Oliphant, inher velvet and sables, was seated in it. Hammond sprang forward withheightened colour, and an eager exclamation on his lips. She did notmotion to the coachman to stop, however, but gave the young man acareless, cold bow. She did not notice Priscilla at all. The carriagequickly drove out of sight, and Hammond, after a pause, said gravely--
"You must tell me your trouble, Miss Peel."
"I will," said Prissie. "Someone has
