CHAPTER XIX.
KITTY TELLS THE TRUTH.
Early the next morning Kitty received her telegram. It certainly was notat all calculated to soothe her. She was restless and miserable before;now her hands shook so violently that she could scarcely eat herbreakfast.
Alice acted somewhat the part of a jailer; she had to convey thedisgraced girl to Middleton School.
"I am ill; I won't go," said Kitty, bursting into tears.
"You had much better come, Kitty," said Alice, speaking almost kindlyfor the first time in her life; she really pitied poor Kitty at thatmoment. "If you will only take your punishment patiently it will soon beover, and I know for a fact," she continued, "that many of the girls areonly too anxious to make it up to you by and by."
"Oh, it's not that," said Kitty; "it is because I am so wretched. I havea great trouble at home; but there, there's no use in talking to youabout it, Alice."
"So you always say," answered Alice. "Whenever I want to be the leastbit good to you, you put me off; but never mind, I am sure I can dowithout your friendship. Anyhow, I think you must come to school unlessyou are so ill that mother will be obliged to send for the doctor."
"Oh, I don't want that," said Kitty, "I never had a doctor in my life.If you'll wait for me, Alice, I'll go upstairs and put on my hat."
She rushed to her room, flung herself on her knees for a moment by herbedside, and uttered a frantic prayer to Heaven.
"Oh! God, in your mercy, keep Laurie from doing anything desperate,"cried the unhappy girl. She then joined Alice downstairs. Her face waswhite; there were heavy black lines under her eyes; she had never lookedprettier, more pathetic, more likely to win sympathy from the othergirls.
At prayers that morning all eyes were directed to Kitty Malone. She wasnot allowed to sit with the others, but was given, a place on the benchwith the teachers. Here she faced the rest of the school. It would havebeen a cruel position for another girl; but it did not matter to Kitty,for she saw no one present. Her eyes, with that queer inward look inthem, were gazing straight, not at the scene before her, but at the oldhome in Ireland. The squire, whom she so passionately loved, roused tothe last extremity of anger; the boy, whose heart was hers, crushed,trapped, imprisoned, his liberty taken from him. Kitty trembled fromhead to foot; she could scarcely restrain her terrible emotion.
After school she accompanied the others to the classroom, but inabsolute silence. She was given her usual lessons to do, but at a tableby herself. Her punishment was to be carried out in all its fullness;but, dreadful as it would seem to most, it did not touch her at allto-day. Her head ached, her eyes felt dim. Laurie's telegram, which layin her pocket, seemed to scorch into the very depths of her heart. Shehad not even been allowed to answer it; the whole weight of her troublelay unrelieved upon her. The poor child was unaccustomed to suchanguish, and her self-control was in danger moment by moment of givingway.
As she strove to get that dull piece of English history into her head,as she endeavored to follow the rules of syntax, as the knowledge thatshe never, never to the longest day of her life, would understand whatwas meant by the possessive case, alongside with these feeble littleefforts to follow her lessons, ran the dark thought of how, by whatpossible means, she could help Laurie. And more and more as the timewent on she felt that she could not keep her promise to Elma. Elma hadbeen cruel to her; she had borrowed her money when she knew she had notthe most remote chance of paying it back; she had spent it according toher own saying in the most frivolous way. Now, for the first time, Kittylearned to despise dress. How could Elma spend the money which was tosave Laurie in anything so contemptible as ribbons and finery? Kittylooked down at her own neatly-appointed clothes; her perfect littleshoes peeped out from beneath the frill of her dress. Notwithstandingher misery she was as neat as usual in her attire; but now she had noheart to appreciate gay clothes, good looks, pretty ribbons--any of thethings which usually delighted her. Laurie seemed to cry to her; shefancied she could hear his voice coming across the waters to herears--Laurie, who had always trusted to her, who, strong as he was, wasnot quite so strong as Kitty when scrapes and troubles were about. Oh!if only she could go to him! If only she might relieve her feelings andtell the exact truth to Miss Sherrard! What kept her back? Nothingwhatever but the thought of Elma. She had given Elma a promise, and,tempted as she was, she must not break it.
As this thought came to her she remembered that she had only promisedElma to keep the secret until after morning school. That time would soonbe up.
"Once Miss Sherrard knows I am certain she will help me," thought Kitty,"though I don't want to excuse myself; yet I know that a great deal ofthe blame of my proceedings will be lifted from my shoulders to Elma's.Why should I go through all the suffering, and Elma sit there looking socalm, and quiet, and still?"
As these thoughts rushed through Kitty's mind she glanced up for thefirst time, and calmly surveyed the great room full of herfellow-students. As if with one impulse all the girls raised their eyesand looked back at her. There was pity on most of the faces, amusementon a few, curiosity on a few others; but on Elma's face alone was anexpression of intense anxiety and misery. Kitty had the kindest heart inthe world. The moment she saw this expression the idea of betraying Elmamelted from her mind.
"She does look wretched," she said to herself. "I must not speak to her;I dare not, and yet--yet--I should like her to know that I am not goingto be hard on her."
Kitty tore off a piece of her exercise book and managed, when shethought no one would see, to write a little note to Elma. In this shesaid, "Don't be afraid, Elma; I have made up my mind not to tell."
This note she twisted up, and, as the girls were going to the playgroundfor recess, managed to flash an intelligent glance toward Elma. Elmaapproached close to her table, Kitty stretched out her hand, and Elma'sfingers were just about to close over the note, when, by an unluckychance, there came a breeze through the window, and the note, for someinconceivable reason, fluttered from Kitty's hand to the floor. In aninstant Miss Worrick had seen it. She was just stepping forward whenElma like a flash caught it up and tore it into fragments. She would notfor the world have the note seen. Miss Worrick, filled with anger, cameup to Kitty.
"You are a bad girl, the worst girl I know," she said. "You are not evenhonorable. Did you not give your parole that you would not holdcommunication with another girl in the school, and yet you have beentrying to communicate with Elma Lewis by means of writing?"
"Writing is not speaking," said Kitty, now standing up very erect andproud, and replying to Miss Worrick as pertly as she could.
"Don't answer me, miss; you grow worse and worse. Elma Lewis, do youknow anything about that note?"
Kitty looked full at Elma. If she was going to be true to Elma, wouldElma be equally true to her?"
"I know nothing about it," said Elma promptly.
Kitty's eyes filled with withering scorn; an expression of disdaincurled her pretty lips.
"You are quite certain, Elma? Kitty Malone seems to have a great anxietyto communicate with you. Can you throw any light on the scrape she hasgot into?"
"I know nothing whatever about her secrets; I--I have nothing to do withthem," said Elma in an agitated voice, which she endeavored in vain torender calm.
Gwin Harley, who had stopped on her way out of the classroom, paused tolisten to Elma's words.
Kitty's face was now white as death. She did not glance at Elma; she waslooking the other way.
"Leave us, girls," said Miss Worrick.
The next moment the great classroom was empty, with the exception ofMiss Worrick and Kitty Malone. Kitty was standing upright as a dart.
"Take me to Miss Sherrard; I want to speak to her," she said.
"I am certainly going to take you to her. You are a very, very wickedgirl. I doubt not you will be expelled."
"Oh, I hope I shall," said Kitty. "I should like nothing in all theworld better."
"You would? You are quite incor
rigible. Do you know, you wretched girl,what it means?"
"No," answered Kitty; "I wait for you to tell me. What does it mean,Miss Worrick?"
"That you are tainted for life, disgraced for life. Wherever you go itwill be always remembered to you that your conduct was so bad at schoolthat you were obliged to be expelled."
"But that won't matter in old Ireland," said Kitty with a hollow,forced laugh.
"Yes, it will; it will break your father's heart. There are no people soproud as the Irish. They can stand a good deal; but any cloud on theirhonor----"
"Ah, you are right," cried Kitty, standing still, and a queer changecoming over her face. "Our honor--no one ever touched that yet."
"It will have a nice blow when you are dismissed from Middleton School,"said Miss Worrick, glad to find a point in Kitty's hitherto invulnerablearmor. "Come with me at once, you bad girl. I must explain your conductto Miss Sherrard."
"I have something on my own account to say to Miss Sherrard," answeredKitty in a proud voice; "something which will explain a good deal."
"I am glad to hear it; but I scarcely think any words of yours canremove the stigma on your character. But come; I have no time to arguewith you further."
Miss Worrick now led the way into Miss Sherrard's little sitting-room.Miss Sherrard was standing near the window; she turned quickly when shesaw Miss Worrick, and a displeased and withal a troubled glance filledher eyes as they rested upon Kitty."
"Anything fresh?" she said, turning to the teacher with a wearyexpression in her voice.
"Only just what I expected," said Miss Worrick with bitterness. "KittyMalone is not to be trusted. Yesterday she gave her word of honor----"
"I didn't," interrupted Kitty.
"Kitty my dear, allow your teacher to speak."
"She gave her word of honor, or equivalent to it, that she would submitto the punishment which you rightly inflicted upon her. Well, I foundher just now in the act of smuggling a note into Elma Lewis' hand."
"Oh, but this is very bad, Kitty," said Miss Sherrard. "Did you not knowwhat your word of honor meant?"
"I never promised anything," replied Kitty. "You spoke; but I wassilent."
"Pardon me, my dear; that is begging the question. You were told thatyou were not to communicate with any of your fellow-pupils. Your silencesignified consent. Kitty, I am ashamed of you."
"As you know so much you may as well know all," said Kitty, desperationin her tone. "I did far worse than you think. Last night I went outagain after dark by myself to see Elma Lewis. I had an interview withher. I talked to her, and she talked to me. That was not exactly herfault; for I forced her to speak. Now, you know how very bad I am. Expelme if you wish. I know you will after this. I am in dreadful disgrace. Ionly wish I were dead."
"Leave us, Miss Worrick," said Miss Sherrard.
The door was closed behind the governess; and the head-mistress, takingone of Kitty's cold hands, led her to a seat near herself on the sofa.
"There is more behind," she said. "Kitty, you must tell me the truth."
"I long to tell you," answered Kitty. "A short time back I had made upmy mind to conceal it because the telling would make another girlmiserable--miserable for life. Now my feelings are changed."
"I am glad that you are at last willing to confide in me," said MissSherrard in a kinder tone. "Tell me everything, Kitty, and as quickly asyou can."
Thus counseled, Kitty's reserve absolutely gave way. The whole miserablestory was quickly revealed: Elma Lewis' request for money; Kitty'sgenerous response; Laurie's passionate and anguished letter; Kitty'sdesire to help him; her reasons, which had almost driven her mad, forseeking Elma; her desperate resolve at last to go to her late at night;then Elma's passionate beseeching of her to keep the secret; Kitty'spromise that she would do so until after morning school that day; thenher further resolve, when she saw the look of misery on Elma's face, tokeep it altogether even at the cost of breaking Laurie's heart; thenElma's conduct when the note was discovered.
"I scorn her now," said Kitty. "I don't regard any promise I ever madeto her. I am glad to tell. She is false, cowardly, and I scorn her. MissSherrard, you know everything; expel me if you must."
"Yes, I know everything," replied Miss Sherrard. She sat still for a fewmoments, lost in anxious thought. She blamed Kitty still, but she alsodeeply pitied her. Her feelings toward Elma were so strong that shecould scarcely trust herself to speak of them at the present moment.
"My honor is gone, and my heart is broken," continued Kitty. "Of courseyou will expel me after this; and, indeed, I want to go home. Please,Miss Sherrard, let me go home; I cannot stay any longer at school."
"My dear Kitty," said Miss Sherrard, "I am very sorry for you. I amcertainly glad at last to know the truth. You, poor child, have beenmore sinned against than sinning. I cannot tell you what I think aboutElma. Such a girl does more mischief in a school than twenty like you.Stay, my dear; stop crying. Kitty, Kitty, what is it?"
"I feel nearly mad--Laurie is in such trouble. May I not at least answerhis telegram?"
"Yes, here is a telegraph form. Fill in what you like; I will send it atonce to the post office."
"Miss Sherrard, would it be possible for you to lend me the money?"
Miss Sherrard shook her head.
"I could not do it, Kitty; nor would it be right. Your brother has donedistinctly wrong; and if you telegraph to him now I hope you willcounsel him to go straight to your father and confess everything. Thereis never the least use in concealment where wrong-doing is concerned, mydear."
But Kitty's eyes had now blazed again with renewed passion.
"You are not a Malone nor an Irishwoman," she cried. "You do not knowIreland, or you would not speak in that tone. I counsel Laurie to tellfather what he did to poor Paddy Wheel-about! I counsel him to say thathe took the old man's coat--stole it from him! Miss Sherrard, you don'tknow father. Laurie did it, it is true, in a fit of bravado; but fatherwould never understand. He would be furious, wild; Le would punish himseverely. Oh, I must get that money somehow, in some fashion!"
"Kitty, you are speaking disrespectfully," said Miss Sherrard, "and Icannot allow it. I am sorry for you, my dear; you are dreadfullyovercome at present. Go home now; I will see you again in theafternoon."
Poor Kitty left the room without even bidding her teacher good-by.