by L. T. Meade
stolen a five-pound note out ofMaggie Oliphant's purse; she missed it late at night, and spoke about itat breakfast this morning. I said that I did not know how it could havebeen taken, for I had been studying my Greek in her room during thewhole afternoon. Maggie spoke about her loss in the dining-hall, andafter she left the room Miss Day and Miss Merton accused me of havingstolen the money." Priscilla stopped speaking abruptly; she turned herhead away; a dull red suffused her face and neck.
"Well?" said Hammond.
"That is all. The girls at St Benet's think I am a thief. They thinkI took my kindest friend's money. I have nothing more to say: nothingpossibly could be more dreadful to me. I shall speak to Miss Heath, andask leave to go away from the college at once."
"You certainly ought not to do that."
"What do you mean?"
"If you went from St Benet's now, people might be induced to think thatyou really were guilty."
"But they think that now."
"I am quite certain that those students whose friendship is worthretaining think nothing of the sort."
"Why are you certain?" asked Prissie, turning swiftly round, and asudden ray of sunshine illuminating her whole face. "Do _you_ thinkthat I am not a thief?"
"I am as certain of that fact as I am of my own identity."
"Oh!" said the girl, with a gasp. She made a sudden dart forward, andseizing Hammond's hand, squeezed it passionately between both her own.
"And Miss Oliphant does not think of you as a thief," continued Hammond.
"I don't know--I can't say."
"You have no right to be so unjust to her," he replied, with fervour.
"I don't care so much for the opinions of the others now," said Prissie;"_you_ believe in me." She walked erect again; her footsteps were lightas if she trod on air. "You are a very good man," she said; "I would doanything for you--anything."
Hammond smiled. Her innocence, her enthusiasm, her childishness weretoo apparent for him to take her words for more than they were worth.
"Do you know," he said, after a pause, "that I am in a certain measureentitled to help you? In the first place, Miss Oliphant takes a greatinterest in you."
"You are mistaken, she does not--not now."
"I am not mistaken; she takes a great interest in you. Priscilla, youmust have guessed--you _have_ guessed--what Maggie Oliphant is to me; Ishould like, therefore, to help her friend. That is one tie between us;but there is another--Mr Hayes, your parish clergyman--"
"Oh!" said Prissie, "do you know Mr Hayes?"
"I not only know him," replied Hammond, smiling, "but he is my uncle. Iam going to see him this evening."
"Oh!"
"Of course, I shall tell him nothing of this, but I shall probably talkof you. Have you a message for him?"
"I can send him no message to-day."
They had now reached the college gates. Hammond took Priscilla's hand."Good-bye," he said; "I believe in you, and so does Miss Oliphant. Ifher money was stolen, the thief was certainly not the most upright, themost sincere girl in the college. My advice to you, Miss Peel, is tohold your head up bravely, to confront this charge by that sense ofabsolute innocence which you possess. In the meanwhile, I have not theleast doubt that the real thief will be found. Don't make a fuss; don'tgo about in wild despair--have faith in God." He pressed her hand, andturned away.
Priscilla took her usual place that day at the luncheon table. Thegirls who had witnessed her wild behaviour in the morning watched her inperplexity and astonishment. She ate her food with appetite; her facelooked serene--all the passion and agony had left it.
Rosalind Merton ventured on a sly allusion to the scene of the morning.Priscilla did not make the smallest comment; her face remained pale, hereyes untroubled. There was a new dignity about her.
"What's up now?" said Rosalind, to her friend Miss Day. "Is the littlePuritan going to defy us all?"
"Oh, don't worry any more about her," said Annie, who, for some reason,was in a particularly bad humour. "I only wish, for my part, Miss Peelhad never come to St Benet's; I don't like anything about her. Herheroics are as unpleasant to me as her stoicisms. But I may as well sayfrankly, Rosalind, before I drop this detestable subject, that I amquite sure she never stole that five-pound note: she was as littlelikely to do it as you, so there!"
There came a knock at the door. Rosalind flew to open it; by so doingshe hoped that Miss Day would not notice the sudden colour which filledher cheeks.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
BEAUTIFUL ANNABEL LEE.
Circumstances seem to combine to spoil some people. Maggie Oliphant wasone of the victims of fortune, which, while appearing to favour her,gave her in reality the worst training which was possible for a naturesuch as hers. She was impulsive, generous, affectionate, but she wasalso perverse, and, so to speak, uncertain. She was a creature ofmoods, and she was almost absolutely without self-control; and yetnature had been kind to Maggie, giving her great beauty of form andface, and a character which a right training would have rendered noble.
Up to the present, however, this training had scarcely come to MissOliphant. She was almost without relations, and she was possessed ofmore money than she knew what to do with. She had great abilities, andloved learning for the sake of learning, but, till she came to StBenet's, her education had been as desultory as her life. She had neverbeen to school; her governesses only taught her what she chose to learn.As a child she was very fickle in this respect, working hard frommorning till night one day, but idling the whole of the next. When shewas fifteen her guardian took her to Rome; the next two years were spentin travelling, and Maggie, who knew nothing properly, picked up thatkind of superficial miscellaneous knowledge which made her conversationbrilliant and added to her many charms.
"You shall be brought out early," her guardian had said to her. "Youare not educated in the stereotyped fashion, but you know enough. Afteryou are seventeen I will get you a suitable chaperon, and you shall livein London."
This scheme, however, was not carried out. For, shortly after herseventeenth birthday, Maggie Oliphant met a girl whose beauty andbrilliance were equal to her own, whose nature was stronger, and who hadbeen carefully trained in heart and mind while Maggie had beenneglected. Miss Lee was going through a course of training at StBenet's College for Women at Kingsdene. She was an uncommon girl inevery sense of the word. The expression of her lovely face was aspiquant as its features were beautiful; her eyes were dark as night;they also possessed the depth of the tenderest, sweetest summer night,subjugating all those who came in contact with her. Annabel Lee wonMaggie's warmest affections at once; she determined to join her friendat St Benet's. She spoke with ineffable scorn of her London season,and resolved, with that enthusiasm which was the strongest part of hernature, to become a student in reality. Under Annabel's guidance shetook up the course of study which was necessary to enable her to passher entrance examination. She acquitted herself well, for her abilitieswere of the highest order, and entered the college with _eclat_. MissLee was a student in Heath Hall, and Maggie thought herself supremelyhappy when she was given a room next to her friend.
Those were brilliant days at the Hall. Some girls resided there at thistime whose names were destined to be known in the world by-and-by. Theworkers were earnest; the tone which pervaded the life at Heath Hall wasdistinctly high. Shallow girls there must always be where any numberare to be found together, but, during Maggie Oliphant's first year,these girls had little chance of coming to the front. Maggie, who wasas easily influenced as a wave is tossed by the wind, rose quickly tothe heights with her companions. Her splendid intellect developed eachday; she was merry with the merry, glad with the glad, studious with thestudious. She was also generous, kind, and unselfish in company withthose girls who observed the precepts of the higher life. Next to MissLee, Maggie was one of the most popular girls in the college. AnnabelLee had the kindest of hearts, as well as the most fascinating of ways.She was
an extraordinary girl; there was a great deal of the exoticabout her; in many ways she was old for her years. No one ever thoughtor spoke of her as a prig, but all her influence was brought to bear inthe right direction. The girl who could do or think meanly avoided theexpression in Annabel's beautiful eyes. It was impossible for her tothink badly of her fellow-creatures, but meanness and sin made hersorrowful. There was not a girl in Heath Hall who would willingly giveAnnabel Lee sorrow.
In the days that followed people knew that she was one of those rare andbrilliant creatures who, like a lovely but too ethereal flower, mustquickly bloom into perfection and then pass away. Annabel was destinedto a
