by L. T. Meade
still, to a certain extent, under Dora's influence, and hadnot the courage to tell her that she intended to be very busy over herown essay this afternoon.
"Now, Hester, dear," said Dora, when they found themselves both seatedin the bower, "you are the only girl in the school to whom I couldconfide the subject of my great essay. I really believe that I have hiton something absolutely original. My dear child, I hope you won't allowyourself to be discouraged. I fear that you won't have much heart to goon with your theme after you have read my words; but, never mind, dear,it will be good practice for you, and you know it _was_ rather silly togo in for a prize which I intended to compete for."
"May I read your essay, please, Dora?" asked Hester. "I am very muchinterested in my own study, and, whether I win the prize or not, I shallalways remember the pleasure I took in writing it."
"What subject did you select, dear?" inquired Miss Russell.
"Well, I am attempting a little sketch of Marie Antoinette."
"Ah, hackneyed, my dear girl--terribly hackneyed; but, of course, Idon't mean to discourage you. _Now_!--I draw a life--picture, and Icall it `The River.' See how it begins--why, I declare I know the wordsby heart, `_As our eyes rest on this clear and limpid stream, as we seethe sun sparkle_.' My dear Hester, you shall read me my essay aloud. Ishall like to hear my own words from your lips, and you have really apretty accent, dear."
Hester folded back the brown-paper cover, and wanting to have her taskover began to read nastily. But, as her eyes rested on the first lines,she turned to her companion, and said--
"Did you not tell me that your essay was called `The River'?"
"Yes, dear; the full title is `The Windings of a Noble River.'"
"That's very odd," replied Hester. "What I see here is `The Meanderingsof a Muddy Stream.' `_As our dull orbs rest on this turbid water onwhich the sun cannot possibly shine_.' Why, Dora, this cannot be youressay, and yet, surely, it is your handwriting."
Dora, with her face suddenly flushing a vivid crimson, snatched themanuscript from Hester's hand, and looked over it eagerly. Alas! therewas no doubt. The title of this essay was "The Meanderings of a MuddyStream," and the words which immediately followed were a smart andridiculous parody on her own high-flown sentences. The resemblance toher handwriting was perfect. The brown-paper cover, neatly sewn on toprotect the white manuscript, was undoubtedly her cover; the very paperon which the words were written seemed in all particulars the same.Dora turned the sheets eagerly, and here for the first time she saw adifference. Only four or five pages of the nonsense essay had beenattempted, and the night before, when finishing her toil, she hadproudly numbered her tenth page. She looked through the whole thing,turning leaf after leaf, while her cheeks were crimson, and her handstrembled. In the first moment of horrible humiliation and dismay sheliterally could not speak.
At last, springing to her feet, and confronting the astonished andalmost frightened Hester, she found her voice.
"Hester, you must help me in this. The most dreadful, the mostatrocious fraud has been committed. Some one has been base enough,audacious enough, wicked enough, to go to my desk privately, and takeaway my real essay--my work over which I have laboured and toiled. Theexpressions of my--my--yes, I will say it--my genius, have beenruthlessly burnt, or otherwise made away with, and _this_ thing has beenput in their place. Hester, why don't you speak--why do you stare at melike this?"
"I am puzzled by the writing," said Hester; "the writing is yours."
"The writing is mine!--oh, you wicked girl! The writing is an imitationof mine--a feeble and poor imitation. I thought, Hester, that by thistime you knew your friend's handwriting. I thought that one in whom Ihave confided--one whom I have stooped to notice because I fancied wehad a community of soul, would not be so ridiculous and so silly as tomistake this writing for mine. Look again, please, Hester Thornton, andtell me if I am ever so vulgar as to cross my _t's_. You know I_always_ loop them; and do I make a capital B in this fashion? And do Iindulge in flourishes? I grant you that the general effect to a casualobserver would be something the same, but you, Hester--I thought youknew me better."
Here Hester, examining the false essay, had to confess that the crossed_t's_ and the flourishes were unlike Miss Russell's calligraphy.
"It is a forgery, most cleverly done," said Dora. "There is such athing, Hester, as being wickedly clever. This spiteful, cruel attemptto injure another can have but proceeded from one _very_ low order ofmind. Hester, there has been plenty of favouritism in this school, butdo you suppose I shall allow such a thing as this to pass overunsearched into? If necessary, I shall ask my father to interfere.This is a slight--an outrage; but the whole mystery shall at last becleared up. Miss Good and Miss Danesbury shall be informed at once, andthe very instant Mrs Willis returns she shall be told what a serpentshe has been nursing in this false, wicked girl, Annie Forest."
"Stop, Dora," said Hester suddenly. She sprang to her feet, claspingher hands, and her colour varied rapidly from white to red. A suddenlight poured in upon her, and she was about to speak when something--quite a small, trivial thing--occurred. She only saw little Nan in thedistance flying swiftly, with outstretched arms, to meet a girl, whoseknees she clasped in baby ecstasy. The girl stooped down and kissed thelittle face, and the round arms were flung around her neck. The nextinstant Annie Forest continued her walk alone, and Nan, lookingwistfully back after her, went in another direction with her nurse. Thewhole scene took but a moment to enact, but as she watched, Hester'sface grew hard and white. She sat down again, with her lips firmlypressed together.
"What is it, Hester?" exclaimed Dora. "What were you going to say? Yousurely know nothing about this?"
"Well, Dora, I am not the guilty person. I was only going to remarkthat you cannot be _sure_ it is Annie Forest."
"Oh, so you are going to take that horrid girl's part now? I wonder atyou! She all but killed your little sister, and then stole her loveaway from you. Did you see the little thing now, how she flew to her?Why, she never kisses you like that."
"I know--I know," said Hester, and she turned away her face with agroan, and leant forward against the rustic bench, pressing her hotforehead down on her hands.
"You'll have your triumph, Hester, when Miss Forest is publiclyexpelled," said Dora, tapping her lightly on the shoulder, and then,taking up the forged essay, she went slowly out of the garden.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
GOOD AND BAD ANGELS.
Hester stayed behind in the shady little arbour, and then, on that softspring day, while the birds sang overhead, and the warm light breezescame in and fanned her hot cheeks, good angels and bad drew near tofight for a victory. Which would conquer? Hester had many faults, buthitherto she had been honourable and truthful; her sins had been thoseof pride and jealousy, but she had never told a falsehood in her life.She, knew perfectly--she trembled as the full knowledge overpoweredher--that she had it in her power to exonerate Annie. She could not inthe least imagine now stupid Susan Drummond could contrive and carry outsuch a clever and deep-laid plot; but she knew also that if she relatedwhat she had seen with her own eyes the night before, she would probablygive such a clew to the apparent mystery that the truth would come tolight.
If Annie was cleared from this accusation, doubtless the old story ofher supposed guilt with regard to Mrs Willis's caricature would also beread with its right key. Hester was a clever and sharp girl; and thefact of seeing Susan Drummond in the school-room in the dead of nightopened her eyes also to one or two other apparent little mysteries.While Susan was her own room-mate she had often given a passing wonderto the fact of her extraordinary desire to overcome her sleepiness, andhad laughed over the expedients Susan had used to wake at all moments.
These things, at the time, had scarcely given her a moment's seriousreflection; but now she pondered them carefully, and became more andmore certain that, for some inexplicable and unfathomable reason,sleepy, and apparently innocent, S
usan Drummond wished to sow the seedsof mischief and discord in the school. Hester was sure that if shechose to speak now she could clear poor Annie, and restore her to herlost place in Mrs Willis's favour.
Should she do so?--ah! should she? Her lips trembled, her colour cameand went as the angels, good and bad, fought hard for victory withinher. How she had longed to revenge herself on Annie! How cordially shehad hated her! Now was the moment of her revenge. She had but toremain silent now, and to let matters take their course; she had but tohold her tongue about the little incident of last night, and, withoutany doubt, circumstantial evidence would point at Annie Forest, and shewould be expelled from the school. Mrs Willis must condemn her now.Mr Everard must
