THE ATTIC DESIRE CH:8

Towards morning she became drowsy and dropped off asleep. Maud had long been sleeping peacefully by her side.

When the girls awoke little Jessie was looking down at them. Jessie's eyes were red as though she had been crying very much. Susan started up, her face turned white.

"Is she frightfully bad?" she gasped.

"Oh, I don't know," said Jessie. "The doctor won't say. She has been delirious all night, and is now asleep. I don't know what to think. I came to tell you both, dear girls, to dress very quietly, and not to make the slightest noise. All the girls in the White Corridor are to be moved to-day in order that she may have perfect stillness. The doctor says that her brain is very much affected. He cannot imagine what can have happened to her. He says she has got a terrible shock."

"Oh, dear!" said Susan.

[Pg 262]

"You don't look well yourself, Susan. Have you a cold?"

"Yes. My throat aches, and my eyes ache."

"Well, get up quietly, dear, and go downstairs. There will be big fires in all the sitting rooms, and the boudoirs will be made thoroughly comfortable. I am glad you had a fire last night, girls. Yes, we must hope for the best."

Little Jessie bustled away. Susan and Maud began slowly to put on their things.

"There is one thing at least, Maud, that must be done," said Susan as she proceeded with her dressing. "That letter which I spoke of must be sent to Florence Dixie. Someone must go to church. You must do it, Maudie; you must do it for me."

"But I have a cold myself," said Maud.

"You must do it whether you have a cold or not. You will manage better than I, or I would do it. You must go to church. No one will notice you. You must say you want specially to go this morning. You will do this for me, won't you, Maud?"

"I don't know. I don't see why I should do it for you."

"Why, think—think for yourself what would happen if they were to come now. Really, girls like Florence Dixie and the Manners girls might easily know nothing about poor Christian's illness. This is Sunday; Wednesday will be here in no time. Think of their coming at present. Oh, Maud! you would be expelled as well as I."

"Do you think so?" said Maud, turning pale.

"I am sure—certain of it. We should all be made examples of—we three at least; Janet isn't quite so much in it."

"If that is the case I will make an effort," said Maud.

[Pg 263]

Susan proceeded more cheerfully with her dressing after this remark of Maud's; and presently, their toilets completed, the girls ran downstairs.

Then Susan, taking an opportunity when no one was looking, wrote a brief note to Florence Dixie. It ran as follows:

"Dear Florry: You and the Manners girls must on no account come on Wednesday. Don't attempt it, as you love me. I can add no more. From your friend,

"Susan Marsh."

When Susan had finished her letter she folded it up. Outside the little three-cornered note she wrote, "Be sure you burn this when read"; and then she put it into a small envelope, which she stuck down. A minute or two later she had thrust her note into Maud's hand.

"Put it into your pocket, and don't fail to deliver it. Oh! it will be a relief when you have managed this, Maud."

Maud nodded her head.

That morning Miss Peacock, contrary to her wont, did not appear at family prayers; but Miss Forest, the English teacher, took her place. Christian was again prayed for. The bulletin with regard to her state was a little worse, if anything, than it had been on the previous night. All the girls felt terribly depressed. They could not set to their accustomed Sunday work. Susan glided to a seat by the fire in the boudoir with a book; the others wandered here and there, not knowing what to do with themselves. Presently Jessie came down.

"Miss Peacock says that there will be prayers as usual in the chapel," she said, "and she hopes that all the girls who are sufficiently well will go there in good time."

Maud raised her head. She also was pretending to[Pg 264] read. Susan gave her one agonized glance. Maud rose slowly and went towards Jessie.

"Do you mind, Jessie," she said, "if I go to church at Tregellick?"

"But, my dear, Miss Peacock says that none of the girls are to go to the village church to-day."

"Only I should like to go; I like Mr. White's preaching so much."

Miss Jessie hesitated. "Well, I'll ask Miss Peacock," she said. "You must on no account go without her leave. She is in the room with Christian now, but I will ask her if I have an opportunity. Does anyone else want to go to the church at Tregellick?" she added, looking round at the assembled girls.

Jane Price and one or two other girls said that they would like to go to the village church; and Jessie, with four names entered in her little notebook, went upstairs.

She presently returned to say that Miss Peacock would allow the girls to go church in the village if they went straight there and straight back and did not speak to anyone.

"Remember, Miss Peacock trusts you," said Miss Jessie. "She is so distressed and miserable that she can scarcely think of anything, and there is no teacher able to be spared to go with you this morning. She trusts you to behave well, to speak to no one, and to come straight home again."

"Oh, I'll take care that they speak to no one," said Jane Price. "Appoint me the guardian of this party, won't you, Miss Jessie?"

"Very well, Jane. You are a nice, steady girl; you will see to the others."

Jessie bustled from the room.

"Now then, you have got to obey me," said Jane, with a laugh.

[Pg 265]

A minute or two later Maud passed Susan's chair. Susan bent towards her and whispered in her ear:

"You are a brick to have spoken out. I won't forget this to you in the future."

Star was one of the girls who elected to go to Tregellick church. She was too restless to stay within the grounds, and any chance of a walk outside appealed to her.

There were six girls altogether who started off in time to say their prayers in the little gray church in Tregellick.

Mr. White was an excellent preacher, and it was always a treat to Star to listen to him. There were two pews in the church set apart for the Penwerne Manor girls, and they entered these now. The church happened to be specially full that morning. Maud, who found herself between Jane Price and Star Lestrange, presently looked around her. It was necessary that she should see Florence Dixie. She hoped that as they were going out of the church she might have an opportunity of slipping a note into the girl's hand without anyone noticing her.

Jane Price, who was the leader of the little party, would on no account allow her to speak to Florence. But Florence was aware that she was not supposed to know any of the Penwerne Manor girls, and she was extremely proud of her secret acquaintance with more than one of them.

Florence and her mother, an extremely vulgar, overdressed woman, generally sat in a pew just in front of those used by the schoolgirls. When they got to the church Jane went into the second pew; but Maud without making any comment, ensconced herself in the first one. Jane wondered at this, but she nodded to her companions, and they all entered the first of the two pews;[Pg 266] and Maud, as has been stated, found herself between Star and Jane.

Florence glanced round once and fixed her eyes on Maud's face. She had not made the acquaintance of any of the other girls present, and on no account would she pretend to know any of them. But Maud colored when Florence's eyes glanced at her.

The service went on. The singing was better than ever. Christian was prayed for in church, at Miss Peacock's special request, and at last the service came to an end.

"Now, girls, let us hasten home," said Jane. "Just let us walk out, two and two, as fast as ever we can, and glance neither to right nor to left, and get back to the Manor in good time for early dinner."

She whispered this in a somewhat loud voice to Maud, who nodded her head, but could not help replying:

"I wish you wouldn't talk so loud in church."

Jane tossed her head and looked angry.

"Follow me," she said.

Star, who was looking thoroughly depressed, followed quite meekly; then came Maud. But no, she would not go now. On purpose she knocked down a prayer-book.

"Go on," she said to the girl next to her, and the girl went on. Maud was a long time on her knees finding the prayer-book. Presently she put it in its place. All the girls had now gone with the exception of Maud herself. Florence lingered, she scarcely knew why. Maud bent towards her.

"Take it," she said, "and say nothing."

Florence covered the note with her prayer-book; and, thoroughly relieved, and suddenly in excellent spirits, Maud left the church.

[Pg 267]

But her good spirits were not of long duration. Outside the church Star stepped back and spoke to her.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"Do what?" asked Maud, considerably startled.

"Of course, I saw you knock down that prayer-book on purpose. Why did you give that girl—Miss Dixie, I think you call her—a note?"

"I didn't," said Maud at once.

"You did. I shall tell Jane Price."

"Oh, what a horror you are!—a tell-tale and all the rest. Besides, it isn't true."

"It is true," said Star; "I saw you do it. What is the matter, Maud? There is a sort of conspiracy going on in our school. We are all fearfully unhappy, and I can't conceal things any longer. I can't and I won't."

"Oh, please—please don't tell Jane. Indeed—indeed I didn't do anything."

"Maud, if you deny it again I will tell Jane, and this instant."

"Well, I'll say nothing."

"You must come to me to-day to my boudoir. I shall ask to have it to myself, and only you and Susan shall come. I'll get to the bottom of this thing. Now, you understand."

Maud put on a wry face.

"I won't talk to you any more at present; I despise you," said Star.

She ran on and joined Jane Price.

"What's the matter with you, Star? You don't look too happy."

"Nor would you be if you had a weight on your mind which was reducing you to abject misery," was Star's response.

"Are you really so fond of Christian?"

"Who wouldn't be fond of a girl who was made ill at[Pg 268] the school all because she had been unkindly treated—a girl who is quite uncommon in herself? I can't make out what is the matter, Jane. I am thoroughly wretched."

"You look it, Star. I never saw your face so perplexed. What were you saying to Maud?"

"Giving her a bit of my mind. I don't like her."

"I like her better than Susan," whispered Jane in response. "Well, here we are," she added as they arrived at the well-known gates, "and I have kept my word: no one has spoken to anyone, or done a single thing that Miss Peacock would disapprove of."

"Oh, haven't they?" said Star to herself; but she was silent.

Just before they all went in to dinner Susan ran up to Maud. She took her friend's hand and spoke eagerly.

"Have you done it?" she whispered.

"Yes; but I don't think I have mended matters."

"What do you mean?"

"Star saw me do it."

"Maud! Well, you really are the most awkward, most incapable—Oh, you are a terrible girl!"

"I denied it, but she stuck to it. I just got her not to tell Jane Price, but she means to have it out with us both this afternoon. We are to meet her in the fourth class boudoir, and she means to be there alone. I never saw Star so determined. I expect we shall have a fight."

"It seems to me I don't care about anything," said Susan. "I think I'll run away. Father couldn't turn me out if I went home; only I haven't got enough money. Have you any you could lend me, Maud?"

"To run away and leave me behind?" said Maud. "Indeed, that I haven't. Don't be a goose, Susy; we have got to face this thing and pull ourselves through somehow. I tell you what."

"Yes?"

[Pg 269]

"Let us confide in Star; let us tell her just everything. It's about the best thing to do. She's the sort of girl who'd be desperate and cruel if she were kept in the dark; but if she knew, why, she mightn't."

"And you want me to tell—me—that I opened her purse and took the bill out, and laid the blame on Christian. You think she'll bear it."

"I don't know," said Maud. "It seems to me she'll find out whether you tell her or not. Oh, by the way, what is the news of Christian?"

"The doctor says the crisis will come to-night. Jessie is in a fearful state of anxiety. We have none of us seen Miss Peacock for a minute to-day. You never knew anything like the gloom of the chapel. I cried all the time. The other girls quite pitied me. Mr. Dalzell preached a sermon about schoolgirls and their temptations. I think Jessie and Miss Peacock must have been sneaking and telling him things he ought not to know. The girls looked at me a lot. I cried harder than ever. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what a wretched creature I am!"

"We are all wretched, it seems to me," said Maud. "The sooner we got out of this depression the better." Susan made no reply.

The great gong was not allowed to be sounded that day, but Jessie came to say that dinner was ready, and the girls marched into the hall.

[Pg 270]

CHAPTER XXVI

THE CLEW TO THE MYSTERY

Sunday can be the most delightful or the most wretched day in the world. When the heart is at peace, when the sun shines brightly, and things are going well, how sweet are the golden hours; how joyful and tuneful does the church bell sound; how soothing and stimulating to the highest part of our nature are the hymns and the church services! There is rest all round, and we feel it through and through our natures.

But there are other Sundays, again, which are just as miserable. There is the terrible ache in the heart; there is gloom over everything, and the cessation of customary occupations but increases this tenfold.

Christian, although a comparative stranger in the school, was now the one object of interest. She was thought of so much that there was little or no time to remember anybody else, and but for Star both Susan and Maud would have been allowed to have been as miserable and as naughty as they liked without anyone remarking them.

But Star, as she expressed it afterwards, felt almost vindictive that day. All that had gone before, and the wretched consequence of her own act of folly and unkindness in believing that Christian was guilty of the most disgraceful conduct, now caused her sensitive conscience to accuse her loudly. The best way to relieve herself was to put Christian right. She could only do this by forcing Susan and also Maud to confess. Star knew[Pg 271] very well that a special and very daring rebellion was to take place in the front attic on the following Wednesday. Its nature she had not the slightest idea of. She herself, as she said, would no longer be a Penwernian. She would not attend the secret meeting. But that did not prevent her from being intensely unhappy about it. It was on account of that that Christian had broken the rules. Christian had been sent to Tregellick and had spent her money at Dawson's shop, and she had brought in food, and paid a bill there. Susan and Maud and Mary Hillary and Janet Bouverie had incited her to this act of rebellion. They were the real culprits; Christian was little more than a tool. Ill as Christian now was the conspiracy had not ceased to exist. There was no doubt whatever on that point. Star did not intend to make any more fuss—she was too broken-down for that—only she saw Maud with her own eyes knock down the prayer-book in church. It had not been done by accident; Star's quick eyes had detected Maud in the act. The prayer-book had been deliberately dropped on the floor. This aroused the little girl's suspicions. She saw Maud stoop down, and she herself was obliged to leave the pew. She looked back. Maud had risen, and she was bending towards a vulgar, showy-looking girl, in the pew just in front of her, the very name of whom Star did not know; and she gave the girl something—something in the nature of a letter. There was no doubt of it.

"It is the clew to the mystery," thought Star. "Now I will be firm. Now I intend to be what they call cruel. It is the clew to the mystery. I will find out. Christian lies at death's door; she is dependent, perhaps, on me to save her life."

After dinner Star sped very quickly upstairs. She went on tiptoe. When she reached the neighborhood[Pg 272] of the White Corridor she took off her shoes. Then she glided along towards the door of the sickroom. It was very slightly ajar. Star peeped in. It so happened that Miss Peacock, who had been up all night, and was now worn out with anxiety, lay sound asleep in the arm-chair by the fire. Jessie was downstairs having her dinner. Neither was the nurse present. Star could look in at Christian. And it so happened that Christian looked back at Star; and although her face was white as death, and there were startling great shadows under her eyes, and although that same little face was not only white but strangely pinched, she recognized Star, and it seemed to Star that her eyes brightened and her lips moved in a sort of voiceless appeal.

This was enough for the little girl. Silently, without making the least vestige of noise, she glided across the floor and up to the sick girl's bed.

"Darling!" said Star.

Now, in all the world there could never be a more thrilling voice than Star Lestrange could assume when she chose. And the love now in her voice, and the pity, and the longing to make reparation penetrated straight down to the heart of the girl who was slowly but surely drifting out on a nameless tide.

It seemed to Christian, as she floated and floated on that deep, deep sea, that a hand took her and passed round her and drew her back and back. She looked up at Star, and the faintest of faint smiles awoke in her eyes.