by L. T. Meade
the astonished littlegroup, who none of them believed that proud Hester Thornton could weep.
The wretched girl rushed up to her room, where she threw herself on herbed and gave way to some of the bitterest tears she had ever shed. Allher indifference to Annie, all her real unkindness, all herever-increasing dislike came back now to torture and harass her. Shebegan to believe with the girls that Annie would be successful; shebegan dimly to acknowledge in her heart the strange power which thischild possessed; she guessed that Annie would heap coals of fire on herhead by bringing back her little sister. She hoped, she longed, shecould almost have found it in her heart to pray that some one else, notAnnie, might save little Nan.
For not yet had Hester made up her mind to confess the truth about AnnieForest. To confess the truth now meant humiliation in the eyes of thewhole school. Even for Nan's sake she could not, she would not, begreat enough for this.
Sobbing on her bed, trembling from head to foot, in an agony of almostuncontrollable grief, she could not bring her proud and stubborn littleheart to accept God's only way of piece. No, she hoped she might beable to influence Susan Drummond and induce her to confess, and if Anniewas not cleared in that way, if she really saved little Nan, she woulddoubtless be restored to much of her lost favour in the school.
Hester had never been a favourite at Lavender House; but now her greattrouble caused all the girls to speak to her kindly and considerately,and as she lay on her bed she presently heard a gentle step on the floorof her room--a cool little hand was laid tenderly on her forehead, andopening her swollen eyes, she met Cecil's loving gaze.
"There is no news yet, Hester," said Cecil; "but Mrs Willis has justgone herself into Sefton, and will not lose an hour in getting furtherhelp. Mrs Willis looks quite haggard. Of course she is very anxiousboth about Annie and Nan."
"Oh, Annie is safe enough," murmured Hester, burying her head in thebedclothes.
"I don't know; Annie is very impulsive, and very pretty; the gipsies maylike to steal her too--of course she has gone straight to one of theirencampments. Naturally Mrs Willis is most anxious."
Hester pressed her hand to her throbbing head.
"We are all so sorry for you, dear," said Cecil gently.
"Thank you--being sorry for one does not do a great deal of good, doesit?"
"I thought sympathy always did good," replied Cecil, looking puzzled.
"Thank you," said Hester again. She lay quite still for several minuteswith her eyes closed. Her face looked intensely unhappy. Cecil was noteasily repelled, and she guessed only too surely that Hester's proudheart was suffering much. She was puzzled, however, how to approachher, and had almost made up her mind to go away and beg of kind-heartedMiss Danesbury to see if she could come and do something, when throughthe open window there came the shrill sweet laughter and the eager,high-pitched tones of some of the youngest children in the school. Astrange quiver passed over Hester's face at the sound; she sat up inbed, and gasped out in a half-strangled voice--
"Oh! I can't bear it--little Nan, little Nan! Cecil, I am very, veryunhappy."
"I know it, darling," said Cecil, and she put her arms round the excitedgirl. "Oh, Hester! don't turn away from me; do let us be unhappytogether."
"But you did not care for Nan."
"I did--we all loved the pretty darling."
"Suppose I never see her again?" said Hester half wildly. "Oh, Cecil!and mother left her to me! mother gave her to me to take care of, and tobring to her some day in heaven. Oh, little Nan, my pretty, my love, mysweet! I think I could better bear her being dead than this."
"You could, Hester," said Cecil, "if she was never to be found; but Idon't think God will give you such a terrible punishment. I thinklittle Nan will be restored to you. Let us ask God to do it, Hetty--letus kneel down now, we two little girls, and pray to Him with all ourmight."
"I can't pray; don't ask me," said Hester, turning her face away.
"Then I will."
"But not here, Cecil. Cecil, I am not good--I am not good enough topray."
"We don't want to be good to pray," said Cecil. "We want perhaps to beunhappy--perhaps sorry; but if God waited just for goodness, I don'tthink He would get many prayers."
"Well, I am unhappy, but not sorry. No, no; don't ask me, I cannotpray."
CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
SUSAN.
Mrs Willis came back at a very late hour from Sefton. The police wereconfident that they must soon discover both children, but no tidings hadyet been heard of either of them. Mrs Willis ordered her girls to bed,and went herself to kiss Hester and give her a special "good-night."She was struck by the peculiarly unhappy, and even hardened, expressionon the poor child's face, and felt that she did not half understand her.
In the middle of the night Hester awoke from a troubled dream. Sheawoke with a sharp cry, so sharp and intense in its sound that had anygirl been awake in the next room she must have heard it. She felt thatshe could no longer remain close to that little empty cot. She suddenlyremembered that Susan Drummond would be alone to-night: what time sogood as the present for having a long talk with Susan and getting her toclear Annie? She slipped out of bed, put on her dressing-gown, andsoftly opening the door, ran down the passage to Susan's room.
Susan was in bed, and fast asleep. Hester could see her face quiteplainly in the moonlight, for Susan slept facing the window, and theblind was not drawn down.
Hester had some difficulty in awakening Miss Drummond, who, however, atlast sat up in bed, yawning prodigiously.
"What is the matter? Is that you, Hester Thornton? Have you got anynews of little Nan? Has Annie come back?"
"No, they are both still away. Susy, I want to speak to you."
"Dear me! what for? must you speak in the middle of the night?"
"Yes, for I don't want anyone else to know. Oh, Susan, please don't goto sleep."
"My dear, I won't, if I can help it. Do you mind throwing a little coldwater over my face and head? There is a can by the bed-side. I alwayskeep one handy. Ah, thanks--now I am wide awake. I shall probablyremain so for about two minutes. Can you get your say over in thattime?"
"I wonder, Susan," said Hester, "if you have got any heart--but heart ornot, I have just come here to-night to tell you that I have found youout. You are at the bottom of all this mischief about Annie Forest."
Susan had a most phlegmatic face, an utterly unemotional voice, and shenow stared calmly at Hester and demanded to know what in the world shemeant.
Hester felt her temper going, her self-control deserting her. Susan'sapparent innocence and indifference drove her half frantic.
"Oh, you are mean," she said. "You pretend to be innocent, but you arethe deepest and wickedest girl in the school. I tell you, Susan, I havefound you out--you put that caricature of Mrs Willis into Cecil's book;you changed Dora's theme. I don't know why you did it, nor how you didit, but you are the guilty person, and you have allowed the sin of it toremain on Annie's shoulders all this time. Oh, you are the very meanestgirl I ever heard of!"
"Dear, dear!" said Susan, "I wish I had not asked you to throw coldwater over my head and face, and allow myself to be made very wet anduncomfortable, just to be told I am the meanest girl you ever met. Andpray what affair is this of yours? You certainly don't love AnnieForest."
"I don't, but I want justice to be done to her. Annie is very, veryunhappy. Oh, Susy, won't you go and tell Mrs Willis the truth?"
"Really, my dear Hester, I think you are a little mad. How long haveyou known all this about me, pray?"
"Oh, for some time since--since the night the essay was changed."
"Ah, then, if what you stale is true, you told Mrs Willis a lie, forshe distinctly asked you if you knew anything about the `Muddy Stream,'and you said you didn't. I saw you--I remarked how very red you gotwhen you plumped out that great lie! My dear, if I am the meanest andwickedest girl in the school, prove it--go, tell Mrs Willis what youknow. Now,
if you will allow me, I will get back into the land ofdreams."
Susan curled herself up once more in her bed, wrapped the bedclothestightly round her, and was to all appearance oblivious of Hester'spresence.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.
UNDER THE HEDGE.
It is one thing to talk of the delights of sleeping under a hedge-rowand another to realise them. A hayfield is a very charming place, butin the middle of the night, with the dew clinging to everything, it isapt to prove but a chilly bed; the most familiar objects put on strangeand unreal forms, the most familiar sounds become loud and alarming.Annie slept for about an hour soundly; then she awoke, trembling withcold
