CHAPTER XXVII.--THE STRANGE VISITOR IN THE BACK BEDROOM.
In vain Sylvia pleaded and argued. She brought all her persuasions tobear; she brought all her natural sweetness to the fore. She tried love,with which she was so largely endowed; she tried tact, which had beengiven to her in full measure; she tried the gentle touch of scorn andsarcasm; finally she tried anger, but for all she said and did she mightas well have held her peace. Evelyn put on that stubbornness with whichshe could encase herself as in armor; nowhere could Sylvia find a crackor a crevice through which her words might pierce the obdurate andnaughty little heart. What was to be done? At last she gave up indespair. Audrey met her outside Evelyn's room. Sylvia shook her head.
"Don't question me," she said. "I am very unhappy. I pity you from myheart. I can say nothing; I am bound in honor to say nothing. PoorEvelyn will reap her own punishment."
"If," said Audrey, "you have failed I give up all hope."
After lunch Evelyn and Audrey went back to school. There were a goodmany classes to be held that afternoon--one for deportment, another fordancing, another for recitation. Evelyn could recite extremely well whenshe chose. She looked almost pretty when she recited some of thespirited ballads of her native land for the benefit of the school. Hereyes glowed, darkened, and deepened; the pallor of her face wastransformed and beautified by a faint blush. There was a heart somewherewithin her; as Audrey watched her she was obliged to acknowledge thatfact.
"She is thinking of her dead mother now," thought the girl. "Oh, if onlythat mother had been different we should not be placed in our presentterrible position!"
It was the custom of the school for the girls on recitation afternoonsto do their pieces in the great hall. Miss Henderson, Miss Lucy, and afew visitors generally came to listen to the recitations. Miss Thompsonwas the recitation mistress, and right well did she perform her task. Ifa girl had any dramatic power, if a girl had any talent for seeingbehind the story and behind the dream of the poet, Miss Thompson was theone to bring that gift to the surface. Evelyn, who was a dramatist bynature, became like wax in her hands; the way in which she recited thatafternoon brought a feeling of astonishment to those who listened toher.
"What remarkable little girl is that?" said a lady of the neighboringtown to Miss Henderson.
"She is a Tasmanian and Squire Edward Wynford's niece," replied MissHenderson; but it was evident that she was not to be drawn out on thesubject, nor would she allow herself to express any approbation ofEvelyn's really remarkable powers.
Audrey's piece, compared with Evelyn's, was tame and wanting in spirit.It was well rendered, it is true, but the ring of passion was absent.
"Really," said the same lady again, "I doubt whether recitations such asMiss Evelyn Wynford has given are good for the school; surely girlsought not to have their minds overexcited with such things!"
Miss Henderson was again silent.
The time passed by, and the close of the day arrived. Just as the girlswere putting on their cloaks and hats preparatory to going home, andsome were collecting round and praising Evelyn for her remarkableperformance of the afternoon, Miss Henderson appeared on the scene. Shetouched the little girl on the arm.
"One moment," she said.
"What do you want?" said Evelyn, backing.
"To speak to you, my dear."
Audrey gave Evelyn a beseeching look. Perhaps if Audrey had refrainedfrom looking at that moment, Evelyn, excited by her triumph, touched bythe plaudits of her companions, might have done what she was expected todo, and what immediately followed need not have taken place. But Evelynhated Audrey, and if for no other reason but to annoy her she wouldstand by her guns.
Miss Henderson took her hand, and entered a room adjoining thecloakroom. She closed the door, and said:
"The week is nearly up. You know what will happen to-morrow?"
"Yes," said Evelyn, lowering her eyes.
"You will be present?"
Evelyn was silent.
"I shall see that you are. You must realize already what a pitiablefigure you will be, how deep and lasting will be your disgrace. You havejust tasted the sweets of success; why should you undergo that whichwill be said of you to-morrow, that which no English girl can everforgive? It will not be forgotten in the school that owing to you muchenjoyment has been cut short, that owing to you a cloud has rested onthe entire place for several days--prizes forgone, liberty curtailed,amusements debarred; and, before and above all these things, the fearfulstigma of disgrace resting on every girl at Chepstow House. But evennow, Evelyn, there is time; even now, by a full confession, much can bemitigated. You know, my dear, how strong is the case against you.To-morrow morning both Miss Thompson and I proclaim before the entireschool what has occurred. You are, in short, as a prisoner at the bar.The school will be the judges; they will declare whether you areinnocent or guilty."
"Let me go," said Evelyn. "Why do you torture me? I said I did not doit, and I mean to stick to what I said. Let me go."
"Unhappy child! I shall not be able to retain you in the school afterto-morrow morning. But go now--go. God help you!"
Evelyn walked across the hall. Her school companions were still standingabout; many wondered why her face was so pale, and asked one anotherwhat Miss Henderson had to say in especial to the little girl.
"It cannot be," said Sophie, "that she did it. Why, of course she didnot do it; she would have no motive."
"Don't let us talk about it," said her companion. "For my part I ratherlike Evelyn--there is something so quaint and out-of-the-common abouther--only I wish she would not look so angry sometimes."
"But how splendidly she recited that song of the ranch!" said Sophie. "Icould see the whole picture. We must not expect her to be quite likeourselves; before she came here she was only a wild little savage."
The governess-cart had come for the two girls. They drove home insilence. Audrey was thinking of the misery of the following morning.Evelyn was planning her escape. She meant to go before dinner. She hadasked Jasper to meet her at seven o'clock precisely. She had thoughteverything out, and that seemed to be the best hour; the family would bein their different rooms dressing. Evelyn would make an excuse to sendRead away--indeed, she seldom now required her services, preferring todress alone. Read would be busy with her mistress and her own younglady, and Evelyn would thus be able to slip away without her prying eyesobserving it.
Tea was ready for the girls when they got home. They took it almostwithout speaking. Evelyn avoided looking at Audrey. Audrey felt that itwas now absolutely hopeless to say a word to Evelyn.
"I should just like to bid Uncle Edward good-by," thought the child."Perhaps I may never come back again. I do not suppose Aunt Frances willever allow me to live at the Castle again. I should like to kiss UncleEdward; he is the one person in this house whom I love."
She hesitated between her desire and her frantic wish to be out of reachof danger as soon as possible, but in the end the thought that her unclemight notice something different from usual about her made her afraid ofmaking the attempt. She went up to her room.
"It is not necessary to dress yet," said Audrey, who was going slowly inthe direction of the pretty schoolroom.
"No; but I have a slight headache," said Evelyn. "I will lie down for afew minutes before dinner. And, oh! please, Audrey, tell Read I do notwant her to come and dress me this evening. I shall put on my whitefrock, and I know how to fasten it myself."
"All right; I will tell her," replied Audrey.
She did not say any more, but went on her way. Evelyn entered her room.There she packed a few things in a bag; she was not going to take much.In the bottom of the bag she placed for security the two little rolls ofgold. These she covered over with a stout piece of brown paper; over thebrown paper she laid the treasures she most valued. It did not occur toher to take any of the clothes which her Aunt Frances had bought forher.
"I do not need them," she said to herself. "I shall have my own dear oldthings to wear ag
ain. Jasper took my trunks, and they are waiting for meat The Priory. How happy I shall be in a few minutes! I shall haveforgotten the awful misery of my life at Castle Wynford. I shall haveforgotten that horrid scene which is to take place to-morrow morning. Ishall be the old Evelyn again. How astonished Sylvia will be! WhateverSylvia is, she is true to Jasper; and she will be true to me, and shewill not betray me."
The time flew on; soon it was a quarter to seven. Evelyn could see theminute and hour hand of the pretty clock on her mantelpiece. The timeseemed to go on leaden wings. She did not dare to stir until a fewminutes after the dressing-gong had sounded; then she knew she shouldfind the coast clear. At last seven silvery chimes sounded from thelittle clock, and a minute later the great gong in the central hallpealed through the house. There was the gentle rustle of ladies' silkdresses as they went to their rooms to dress--for a few visitors hadarrived at the Castle that day. Evelyn knew this, and had made her plansaccordingly. The family had a good deal to think of; Read would bespecially busy. She went to the table where she had put her little bag,caught it up, took a thick shawl on her arm, and prepared to rushdown-stairs. She opened the door of her room and peeped out. All wasstillness in the corridor. All was stillness in the hall below. Shehoped that she could reach the side entrance and get away into theshrubberies without any one seeing her. Cautiously and swiftly shedescended the stairs. The stairs were made of white marble, and ofcourse there was no sound. She crossed the big hall and went down by aside corridor. Once she looked back, having a horrible suspicion thatsome one was watching her. There was no one in sight. She opened theside door, and the next instant had shut it behind her. She gave a gaspof pleasure. She was free; the horrid house would know her no more.
"Not until I go back as mistress and pay them all out," thought theangry little girl. "Never again will I live at Castle Wynford until I ammistress here."
Then she put wings to her feet and began to run. But, alas for Evelyn!the best-laid plans are sometimes upset, and at the moment of greatestsecurity comes the sudden fall. For she had not gone a dozen yardsbefore a hand was laid on her shoulder, and turning round and trying toextricate herself, she saw her Aunt Frances. Lady Frances, who shesupposed was safe in her room was standing by her side.
"Evelyn," she said, "what are you doing?"
"Nothing," said Evelyn, trying to wriggle out of her aunt's grasp.
"Then come back to the house with me."
She took the little girl's hand, and they re-entered the house side byside.
"You were running away," said Lady Frances, "but I do not permit that.We will not argue the point; come up-stairs."
She took Evelyn up to her room. There she opened the door and pushed herin.
"Doubtless you can do without dinner as you intended to run away," saidLady Frances. "I will speak to you afterwards; for the present you stayin your room." She locked the door and put the key into her pocket.
The angry child was locked in. To say that Evelyn was wild with passion,despair, and rage is but lightly to express the situation. For a timeshe was almost speechless; then she looked round her prison. Were thereany means of escape? Oh! she would not stand it; she would burst openthe door. Alas, alas for her puny strength! the door was of solid oak,firmly fastened, securely locked; it would defy the efforts of twentylittle girls of Evelyn's size and age. The window--she would escape bythe window! She rushed to it, opened it, and looked out. Evelyn's roomwas, it is true, on the first floor, but the drop to the ground beneathseemed too much for her. She shuddered as she looked below.
"If I were on the ranch, twenty Aunt Franceses would not keep me," shethought; and then she ran into her sitting-room.
Of late she had scarcely ever used her sitting-room, but now sheremembered it. The windows here were French; they looked on theflower-garden. To drop down here would not perhaps be so difficult; theground at least would be soft. Evelyn wondered if she might venture; butshe had once seen, long ago in Tasmania, a black woman try to escape.She had heard the thud of the woman's body as it alighted on the ground,and the shriek which followed. This woman had been found and broughtback to the house, and had suffered for weeks from a badly-broken leg.Evelyn now remembered that thud, and that broken leg, and the shriek ofthe victim. It would be worse than folly to injure herself. But, oh, wasit not maddening? Jasper would be waiting for her--Jasper with her bigheart and her great black eyes and her affectionate manner; and thelittle white bed would be made, and the delicious chocolate inpreparation; and the fun and the delightful escapade and the daringadventure must all be at an end. But they should not--no, no, they shouldnot!
"What a fool I am!" thought Evelyn. "Why should I not make a rope anddescend in that way? Aunt Frances has locked me in, but she does notknow how daring is the nature of Evelyn Wynford. I inherit it from mydarling mothery; I will not allow myself to be defeated."
Her courage and her spirits revived when she thought of the rope. Shemust wait, however, at least until half-past seven. The great gongsounded once more. Evelyn rushed to her door, and heard the rustle ofthe silken dresses of the ladies as they descended. She had her eye atthe keyhole, and fancied that she detected the hated form of her auntrobed in ruby velvet. A slim young figure in white also softlydescended.
"My cousin Audrey," thought the girl. "Oh dear! oh dear! and they leaveme here, locked up like a rat in a trap. They leave me here, and I amout of everything. Oh, I cannot, will not stand it!"
She ran to her bed, tore off the sheets, took a pair of scissors, andcut them into strips. She had all the ways and quick knowledge of a girlfrom the wilds. She knew how to make a knot which would hold. Soon herrope was ready. It was quite strong enough to bear her light weight. Shefastened it to a heavy article of furniture just inside the Frenchwindows of her sitting-room, and then dropping her little bag to theground below, she herself swiftly descended.
"Free! free!" she murmured. "Free in spite of her! She will see how Ihave gone. Oh, won't she rage? What fun! It is almost worth the miseryof the last half-hour to have escaped as I have done."
There was no one now to watch the little culprit as she stole across thegrass. She ran up to the stile where Jasper was still waiting for her.
"My darling," said Jasper, "how late you are! I was just going back; Ihad given you up."
"Kiss me, Jasper," said Evelyn. "Hug me and love me and carry me a bitof the way in your strong arms; and, oh! be quick--be very quick--for wemust hide, you and I, where no one can ever, ever find us. Oh Jasper,Jasper, I have had such a time!"
It was not Jasper's way to say much in moments of emergency. She tookEvelyn up, wrapped her warm fur cloak well round the little girl, andproceeded as quickly as she could in the direction of The Priory. Evelynlaid her head on her faithful nurse's shoulder, and a ray of warmth andcomfort visited her miserable little soul.
"Oh, I am lost but for you!" she murmured once or twice. "How I hateEngland! How I hate Aunt Frances! How I hate the horrid, horrid school,and even Audrey! But I love you, darling, darling Jasper, and I am happyonce more."
"You are not lost with me, my little white Eve," said Jasper. "You aresafe with me; and I tell you what it is, my sweet, you and I will partno more."
"We never, never will," said the little girl with fervor; and sheclasped Jasper still more tightly round the neck.
But notwithstanding all Jasper's love and good-will, the little figurebegan to grow heavy, and the way seemed twice as long as usual; and whenEvelyn begged and implored of her nurse to hurry, hurry, hurry, poorJasper's heart began to beat in great thumps, and finally she paused,and said with panting breath:
"I must drop you to the ground, my dearie, and you must run beside me,for I have lost my breath, pet, and I cannot carry you any farther."
"Oh, how selfish I am!" said Evelyn at once. "Yes, of course I will run,Jasper. I can walk quite well now. I have got over my first fright. Thegreat thing of all is to hurry. And you are certain, certain sure theywill not look for me at The Priory?"
/> "Well, now, darling, how could they? Nobody but Sylvia knows that I liveat The Priory, and why should they think that you had gone there? No; itis the police they will question, and the village they will go to, andthe railway maybe. But it is fun to think of the fine chase we aregiving them, and all to no purpose."
Evelyn laughed, and the two, holding each other's hands, continued ontheir way. By and by they reached the back entrance to The Priory.Jasper had left the gate a little ajar. Pilot came up to showattentions; he began to growl at Evelyn, but Jasper laid her hand on hisbig forehead.
"A friend, good dog! A little friend, Pilot," was Jasper's remark; andthen Pilot wagged his tail and allowed his friend Jasper--to whom he wasmuch attached, as she furnished him with unlimited chicken-bones--to goto the house. Two or three minutes later Evelyn found herselfestablished in Jasper's snug, pretty little bedroom. There the fireblazed; supper was in course of preparation. Evelyn flung herself downon a chair and panted slightly.
"So this is where you live?" she said.
"Yes, my darling, this is where I live."
"And where is Sylvia?" asked Evelyn.
"She is having supper with her father at the present moment."
"Oh! I should like to see her. How excited and astonished she will be!She won't tell--you are sure of that, Jasper?"
"Tell! Sylvia tell!" said Jasper. "Not quite, my dearie."
"Well, I should like to see her."
"She'll be here presently."
"You have not told that I was coming?"
"No, darling; I thought it best not."
"That is famous, Jasper; and do you know, I am quite hungry, so youmight get something to eat without delay."
"You did not by any chance forget the money?" said Jasper, lookinganxiously at Evelyn.
"Oh no; it is in my little black bag; you had better take it while youthink of it. It is in two rolls; Uncle Edward gave it to me. It is allgold--gold sovereigns; and there are twenty of them."
"Are not you a darling, a duck, and all the rest!" said Jasper, muchrelieved at this information. "I would not worry you for the money,darling," she continued as she bustled about and set the milk on to boilfor Evelyn's favorite beverage, "but that my own funds are gettingseriously low. You never knew such a state as we live in here. But wehave fun, darling; and we shall have all the more fun now that you havecome."
Evelyn leant back in her chair without replying. She had lived through agood deal that day, and she was tired and glad to rest. She felt secure.She was hungry, too; and it was nice to be petted by Jasper. She watchedthe preparations for the chocolate, and when it was made she sipped iteagerly, and munched a sponge-cake, and tried to believe that she wasthe happiest little girl in the world. But, oh! what ailed her? How wasit that she could not quite forget the horrid days at the Castle, andthe dreadful days at school, and Audrey's face, and Lady Frances'smanner, and--last but not least--dear, sweet, kind Uncle Edward?
"And I never proved to him that I could shoot a bird on the wing," shethought. "What a pity--what a sad pity! He will find the gun loaded, andhow astonished he will be! And he will never, never know that it was hisEvelyn loaded it and left it ready. Oh dear! I am sorry that I am notlikely to see Uncle Edward for a long time again. I am sorry that UncleEdward will be angry; I do not mind about any one else, but I am sorryabout him."
Just then there came the sound of a high-pitched and sweet voice in thekitchen outside.
"There is Sylvia," said Jasper. "I am going to tell her now, and tobring her in."
She went into the outside kitchen. Sylvia, in her shabbiest dress, witha pinched, cold look on her face, was standing by the embers of thefire.
"Oh Jasper," she said eagerly, "I do not know what to make of my fatherto-night! He has evidently had bad news by the post to-day--somethingabout his last investments. I never saw him so low or so irritable, andhe was quite cross about the nice little hash you made for his supper.He says that he will cut down the fuel-supply, and that I am not to havebig fires for cooking; and, worst of all, Jasper, he threatens to comeinto the kitchen to see for himself how I manage. Do you know, I feelquite frightened to-night. He is very strange in his manner, andsuspicious; and he looks so cold, too. No fire will he allow in thesitting-room. He gets worse and worse."
"Well, darling," said Jasper as cheerfully as she could, "this is an oldstory, is it not? He did eat his hash, when all is said and done."
"Yes; but I don't like his manner. And you know he discovered about theboxes in the box-room."
"That is over and done with too," said Jasper. "He cannot say much aboutthat; he can only puzzle and wonder, but it would take him a long timeto find out the truth."
"I don't like his way," repeated Sylvia.
"And perhaps you don't like my way either, Sylvia," said a strangevoice; and Sylvia uttered a scream, for Evelyn stood before her.
"Evelyn!" cried the girl. "Where have you come from? Oh, what is thematter? Oh, I do declare my head is going round!"
She clasped her hands to her forehead in absolute bewilderment. Jasperwent and locked the kitchen door.
"Now we are safe," she said; "and you two had best go into the bedroom.Yes, you had, for when he comes along it is the wisest plan for him tofind the kitchen locked and the place in darkness. He will never thinkof my bedroom; and, indeed, when the curtains are drawn and the shuttersshut you cannot get a blink of light from the outside, however hard youtry."
"Come, Sylvia," said Evelyn. She took Sylvia's hand and dragged her intothe bedroom.
"But why have you come, Evelyn? Why is it?" said poor Sylvia, in greatdistress and alarm.
"You will have to welcome me whether you like it or not," said Evelyn;"and what is more, you will have to be true to me. I came here because Ihave run away--run away from the school and the fuss and the disgrace ofto-morrow--run away from horrid Aunt Frances and from the horrid Castle;and I have come here to dear old Jasper; and I have brought my ownmoney, so you need not be at any expense. And if you tell you will----But, oh, Sylvia, you will not tell?"
"But this is terrible!" said Sylvia. "I don't understand--I cannotunderstand."
"Sit down, Miss Sylvia, dearie," said Jasper, "and I will try toexplain."
Sylvia sank down on the side of the little white bed.
"Now I know why you were getting this ready," she said. "You would notexplain to me, and I thought perhaps it was for me. Oh dear! oh dear!"
"I longed to tell you, but I dared not," said Jasper. "Would I let mysweet little lady die or be disgraced? That is not in me. She will hidehere with me for a bit, and afterwards--it will come all rightafterwards, my dear Miss Sylvia. Why, there, darlings! I love you both.And see what I have been planning. I mean to go up-stairs to-night andsleep in your room, Miss Sylvia. Yes, darling; and you and Miss Evelyncan sleep together here. The supper is all ready, and I have had as muchas I want. I mean to go quickly; and then if your father comes along andrattles at the kitchen door he'll get no answer, and if he peers throughthe keyhole, the place will be black as night. Then, being made up ofsuspicions, poor man, he'll tramp up-stairs and he'll thunder at yourdoor; but it will be locked, and after a time I'll answer him in yourvoice from the heart of the big bed, and all his suspicions will meltaway like snow when the sun shines on it. That is all, Miss Sylvia; andI mean to do it, and at once, too; for if we were so careful and charyand anxious before, we must be twice as careful and twice as chary nowthat I have got the precious little Eve to look after."
Jasper's plan was carried out to the letter. Sylvia did not like it, butat the same time she did not know how to oppose it; and when Evelyn puther arms round her neck and was soft and gentle--she who was so hard withmost, and so difficult to manage--and when she pleaded with tears in herbig brown eyes and a pathetic look on her white face, Sylvia yielded forthe present. Whatever happened, she would not betray her.