CHAPTER XII
A VERY EVENTFUL DAY
Having got leave to take her walk, Betty started off with vigor. Thefresh, keen air soothed her depressed spirits; and soon she was racingwildly against the gale, the late autumn leaves falling against herdress and face as she ran. She would certainly keep her word to Mrs.Haddo, although her desire--if she had a very keen desire at thatmoment--was again to vault over those hideous prison-bars, and reach thefarm, and receive the caresses of Dan and Beersheba. But a promise is apromise, and this could not be thought of. She determined, therefore, totire herself out by walking.
She had managed to avoid all her companions. The Specialities were verymuch occupied making arrangements for the evening. The twins had foundfriends of their own, and were happily engaged. No one noticed Betty asshe set forth. She walked as far as the deserted gardens. Then shecrossed the waste land, and stood for a minute looking at that poorsemblance of Scotch heather which grew in an exposed corner. She feltinclined to kick it, so great was her contempt for the flower whichcould not bloom out of its native soil. Then suddenly her mood changed.She fell on her knees, found a bit of heather which still had a fewnearly withered bells on it; and, raising it tenderly to her lips,kissed it. "Poor little exile!" she said. "Well, I am an exile too!"
She rose and skirted the waste land; at one side there was a somewhatsteep incline which led through a plantation to a more cultivated partof the extensive grounds. Betty had never been right round the groundsof Haddo Court before, and was pleased at their size, and, on a day likethis, at their wildness. She tried to picture herself back in Scotland.Once she shut her eyes for a minute, and bringing her vivid imaginationto her aid, seemed to see Donald Macfarlane and Jean Macfarlane in theircosy kitchen; while Donald said, "It'll be a braw day to-morrow;" orperhaps it was the other way round, and Jean remarked, "There'll be aguid sprinklin' o' snaw before mornin', or I am much mistook."
Betty sighed, and walked faster. By-and-by, however, she stood still.She had come suddenly to the stump of an old tree. It was a broken andvery aged stump, and hollow inside. Betty stood close to it. The nextmoment, prompted by an uncontrollable instinct, she thrust in her handand pulled out a little sealed packet. She looked at it wildly for aminute, then put it back again. It was quite safe in this hiding-place,for she had placed it in a corner of the old stump where it wassheltered from the weather, and yet could never by any possibility beseen unless the stump was cut down. She had scarcely completed thisaction before a voice from behind caused her to jump and start.
"Whatever are you doing by that old stump of a tree, Betty?"
Betty turned swiftly. The color rushed to her face, leaving it the nextinstant paler than ever. She was confronted by the uninteresting andvery small personality of Sibyl Ray.
"I am doing nothing," said Betty. "What affair is it of yours?"
"Oh, I am not interested," said Sibyl. "I was just taking a walk allalone, and I saw you in the distance; and I rushed up that steep pathyonder as fast as I could, hoping you would let me join you and talk toyou. You know I am going to be present at your Speciality partyto-night. I do admire you so very much, Betty! Then, just as I wascoming near, you thrust your hand down into that old stump, and youcertainly did take something out. Was it a piece of wood, or what? I sawyou looking at it, and then you dropped it in again. It looked like asquare piece of wood, as far as I could tell from the distance. Whatwere you doing with it? It was wood, was it not?"
"If you like to think it was wood, it was wood," replied Betty. Here wasanother lie! Betty's heart sank very low. "I wish you would go away,Sibyl," she said, "and not worry me."
"Oh, but mayn't I walk with you? What harm can I do? And I do admire youso immensely! And won't you take the thing out of the tree again and letme see it? I want to see it ever so badly."
"No, I am sure I won't. You can poke for it yourself whenever youplease," said Betty. "Now, come on, if you are coming."
"Oh, may I come with you really?"
"I can't prevent you, Sibyl. As a matter of fact, I was going out for awalk all alone; but as you are determined to bear me company, you must."
Betty felt seriously alarmed. She must take the first possibleopportunity to get the precious packet out of its present hiding-placeand dispose of it elsewhere. But where? That was the puzzle. And howsoon could she manage this? How quickly could she get rid of Sibyl Ray?
Sibyl's small, pale-blue eyes were glittering with curiosity. Betty feltshe must manage her. Then suddenly, by one of those quick transitions ofthought, Rule VI. occurred to her. It was her duty to be kind to Sibyl,even though she did not like her. She would, therefore, now put forthher charm for the benefit of this small, unattractive girl. Sheaccordingly began to chatter in her wildest and most fascinating way.Sibyl was instantly convulsed with laughter, and forgot all about theold stump of tree and the bit of wood that Betty had fished out, lookedat, and put back again. The whole matter would, of course, recur toSibyl by-and by; but at present she was absorbed in the great delight ofBetty's conversation.
"Oh, Betty, I do admire you!" she said.
"Well, now, listen to one thing," said Betty. "I hate flattery."
"But it isn't flattery if I mean what I say. If I do admire a person Isay so. Now, I admire our darling Martha West. She has always been kindto me. Martha is a dear, a duck; but, of course, she doesn't fascinatein the way you do. Several of the other girls in my form--I'm in theupper fifth, you know--have been talking about you and wondering whereyour charm lay. For you couldn't be called exactly pretty; although, ofcourse, that very black hair of yours, and those curious eyes which areno color in particular, and yet seem to be every color, and your paleface, make you quite out of the common. We love your sisters too; theyare darlings, but neither of them is like you. Still, you're not exactlypretty. You haven't nearly such straight and regular features as OliveRepton; you're not as pretty, even, as Fanny Crawford. Of course Fan's adear old thing--one of the very best girls in the school; and she isyour cousin, isn't she, Betty?"
"Yes."
"Betty, it is delightful to walk with you! And isn't it just wonderfulto think that you've not been more than a few weeks in the school beforeyou are made a Speciality, and with all the advantages of one? Oh, itdoes seem quite too wonderful!"
"I am glad you think so," said Betty.
"But it is very extraordinary. I don't think it has ever been donebefore. You see, your arrival at the school and everything else wascompletely out of the common. You didn't come at the beginning of term,as most new girls do; you came when term was quite a fortnight old; andyou were put straight away into the upper school without going throughthe drudgery, or whatever you may like to call it, of the lower school.Oh, I do--yes, I do--call it perfectly wonderful! I suppose you areeaten up with conceit?"
"No, I am not," said Betty. "I am not conceited at all. Now listen,Sibyl. You are to be a guest, are you not, at our Speciality partyto-night?"
"Of course I am; and I am so fearfully excited, more particularly as youare going to tell stories with the lights down. I'm going to wear agreen dress; it's a gauzy sort of stuff that my aunt has just sent me,and I think it will suit me very well indeed. Oh, it is fun to think ofthis evening!"
"Yes, of course it's fun," said Betty. "Now, I tell you what. Why don'tyou go into the front garden and ask the gardener for permission to geta few small marguerite daisies, and then make them into a very simplewreath to twine round your hair? The daisies would suit you so well; youdon't know how nice they'll make you look."
"Will they?" said Sibyl, her eyes sparkling. "Do you really think so?"
"Of course I think so. I have pictures of all the girls in my mind; andI often shut my eyes and think how such a girl would look if she weredressed in such a way, and how such another girl would look if she woresomething else."
"And when you think of me?" said Sibyl.
But Betty had never thought of Sibyl. She was silent.
"And when you think of me?"
repeated Sibyl, her face beaming all overwith delight. "You think of me, do you, darling Betty, as wearing green,with a wreath of marguerites in my hair?"
"Yes, that is how I think of you," said Betty.
"Very well, I'll go and find the gardener. Mrs. Haddo always allows usto have cut flowers that the gardener gives us."
"Don't have the wreath too big," said Betty; "and be sure you get thegardener to choose small marguerites. Now, be off--won't you?--for Iwant to continue my walk."
Sibyl, in wild delight, rushed into one of the flower-gardens. Bettywatched her till she was quite out of sight. Then, quick as thought, sheretraced her steps. She must find another hiding-place for the packet.With Sibyl's knowledge, her present position was one of absolute danger.Sibyl would tell every girl she knew all about Betty's action when shestood by the broken stump of the old tree. She would describe how Bettythrust in her hand and took something out, looked at it, and put it backagain. The girls would go in a body, and poke, and examine, and try todiscover for themselves what Betty had taken out of the trunk of the oldoak-tree. Betty must remove the sealed packet at once, or it would bediscovered.
"What a horrible danger!" thought the girl. "But I am equal to it."
She ran with all her might and main, and presently, reaching the tree,thrust her hand in, found the brown packet carefully tied up and sealed,and slipped it into her pocket. Quite close by was a little brokensquare of wood. Betty, hating herself for doing so, dropped it into thehollow of the tree. The bit of wood would satisfy the girls, for Sibylhad said that Betty had doubtless found some wood. Having done this, sheset off to retrace her steps again, going now in the direction of thedeserted gardens and the patch of common. She had no spade with her,but that did not matter. She went to the corner where the heather wasgrowing. Very carefully working round a piece with her fingers, sheloosened the roots; they had gone deep down, as is the fashion withheather. She slipped the packet underneath, replaced the heather, kissedit, said, "I am sorry to disturb you, darling, but you are doing a greatwork now;" and then, wiping the mud from her fingers, she walked slowlyhome.
The packet would certainly be safe for a day or two under the Scotchheather, which, as a matter of fact, no one thought of interfering withfrom one end of the year to another. Before Betty left this corner ofthe common she took great care to remove all trace of having disturbedthe heather. Then she walked back to the Court, her heart beating high.The tension within her was so great as to be almost unendurable. But shewould not swerve from the path she had chosen.
On the occasion of the Specialities' first entertainment, Betty Vivian,by request, wore white. Her sisters, who of course would be amongst theguests, also wore white. The little beds had been removed to a distantpart of the room, where a screen was placed round them. All the toiletapparatus was put out of sight. Easy-chairs and elegant bits offurniture were brought from the other rooms. Margaret Grant lent her ownlovely vases, which were filled with flowers from the gardens. Thebeautiful big room looked fresh and fragrant when the Specialitiesassembled to welcome their guests. Betty stood behind Margaret. MarthaWest--a little ungainly as usual, but with her strong, firm, reliableface looking even stronger and more reliable since she had joined thegreat club of the school--was also in evidence. Fanny Crawford stoodclose to Betty. Just once she looked at her, and then smiled. Bettyturned when she did so, and greeted that smile with a distinct frown ofdispleasure. Yet every one knew that Betty was to be the heroine of theevening.
Punctual to the minute the guests arrived--Sibyl Ray in her vivid-greendress, with the marguerites in her hair.
No one made any comment as the little girl came forward; only, a minutelater, Fanny whispered to Betty, "What a ridiculous and conceited idea!I wonder who put it into her head?"
"I did," said Betty very calmly; "But she hasn't arranged them quiteright." She left her place, and going up to Sibyl, said a few words toher. Sibyl flushed and looked lovingly into Betty's face. Betty thentook Sibyl behind the screen, and, lo and behold! her deft fingers putthe tiny wreath into a graceful position; arranged the soft, light hairso as to produce the best possible effect; twisted a white sash roundthe gaudy green dress, to carry out the idea of the marguerites; andbrought Sibyl back, charmed with her appearance, and looking for oncealmost pretty.
"What a wonder you are, Betty!" said Martha West in a pleased tone."Poor little Sib, she doesn't understand how to manage the flowers!"
"She looks very nice now," said Betty.
"It was sweet of you to do it for her," said Martha. "And, you know, shequite worships you; she does, really."
"There was nothing in my doing it," replied Betty. She felt inclined toadd, "For she was particularly obliging to me to-day;" but she changedthese words into, "I suggested the idea, so of course I had to see itcarried out properly."
"The white sash makes all the difference," said Martha. "You are quite agenius, Betty!"
"Oh no," said Betty. She looked for a minute into Martha's small, gray,very honest eyes, and wished with all her heart and soul that she couldchange with her.
The usual high-jinks and merriment went on while the eatables werebeing discussed. But when every one had had as much as she could consumewith comfort, and the oranges, walnuts, and crackers were put aside forthe final entertainment, Margaret (being at present head-girl of theSpecialities) proposed round games for an hour. "After that," she said,"we will ask Betty Vivian to tell us stories."
"Oh, but we all want the stories now!" exclaimed several voices.
Margaret laughed. "Do you know," she said, "it is only a little pastseven o'clock, and we cannot expect poor Betty to tell stories for closeon two hours? We'll play all sorts of pleasant and exciting games untileight o'clock, and then perhaps Betty will keep her word."
Betty had purposely asked to be excused from joining in these games, andevery one said she understood the reason. Betty was too precious andvaluable and altogether fascinating to be expected to rush about playingBlind-Man's Buff, and Puss-in-the-Corner, and Charades, and Telegrams,and all those games which schoolgirls love.
The sound from the Vivians' bedroom was very hilarious for the nextthree-quarters of an hour; but presently Margaret came forward and askedall the girls if they would seat themselves, as Betty was going to tellstories.
"With the lights down! Oh, please, please, don't forget that! All thelights down except one," said Susie Rushworth.
"Yes, with all the lights down except one," said Margaret. "Betty, willyou come and sit here? We will cluster round in a semi-circle. We shallbe in shadow, but there must be sufficient light for us to see yourface."
The lights were arranged to produce this effect. There was now only onelight in the room, and that streamed over Betty as she sat cross-leggedon the floor, her customary attitude when she was thoroughly at home andexcited. There was not a scrap of self-consciousness about Betty atthese moments. She had been working herself up all day for the time whenshe might pour out her heart. At home she used to do so for the benefitof Donald and Jean Macfarlane and of her little sisters. But, up to thepresent, no one at school had heard of Betty's wild stories. At last,however, an opportunity had come. She forgot all her pain in theexercise of her strong faculty for narrative.
"I see something," she began. She had rather a thrilling voice--nothigh, but very clear, and with a sweet ring in it. "I see," shecontinued, looking straight before her as she spoke, "a great, great, avery great plain. And it is night, or nearly so--I mean it is dusk; forthere is never actual night in my Scotland in the middle of summer. Isee the great plain, and a girl sitting in the middle of it, and theheather is beginning to come out. It has been asleep all the winter; butit is coming out now, and the air is full of music. For, of course, youall understand," she continued--bending forward so that her eyes shone,growing very large, and at the same moment black and bright--"you allknow that the great heather-plants are the last homes left in Englandfor the fairies. The fairies live in the heather-bells; and during thewinte
r, when the heather is dead, the poor fairies are cold, beingturned out of their homes."
"Where do they go, then, I wonder?" asked a muffled voice in thedarkened circle of listeners.
"Back to the fairies' palace, of course, underground," said Betty. "Butthey like the world best, they're such sociable little darlings; andwhen the heather-bells are coming out they all return, and each fairytakes possession of a bell and lives there. She makes it her home. Andthe brownies--they live under the leaves of the heather, and attend tothe fairies, and dance with them at night just over the vast heathercommons. Then, by a magical kind of movement, each little fairy sets herown heather-bell ringing, and you can't by any possibility imagine whatthe music is like. It is so sweet--oh, it is so sweet that no music onehas ever heard, made by man, can compare to it! You can imagine foryourselves what it is like--millions upon millions of bells of heather,and millions upon millions of fairies, and each little bell ringing itsown sweet chime, but all in the most perfect harmony. Well, that is whatthe fairies do."
"Have you ever seen them?" asked the much-excited voice of SusieRushworth.
"I see them now," said Betty. She shut her eyes as she spoke.
"Oh, do tell us what they are like?" asked a girl in the background.
Betty opened her eyes wide. "I couldn't," she answered. "No one candescribe a fairy. You've got to see it to know what it is like."
"Tell us more, please, Betty?" asked an eager voice.
"Give me a minute," said Betty. She shut her eyes. Her face was deadlywhite. Presently she opened her eyes again. "I see the same great, vastmoor, and it is winter-time, and the moor from one end to the other iscovered--yes, covered--with snow. And there's a gray house built ofgreat blocks of stone--a very strong house, but small; and there's akitchen in that house, and an old man with grizzled hair sits by thefire, and a dear old woman sits near him, and there are two dogs lyingby the hearth. I won't tell you their names, for their names are--well,sacred. The old man and woman talk together, and presently girls come inand join them and talk to them for a little bit. Then one of the girlsgoes out all alone, for she wants air and freedom, and she is neverafraid on the vast white moor. She walks and walks and walks. Presentlyshe loses sight of the gray house; but she is not afraid, for fear neverenters her breast. She walks so fast that her blood gets very warm andtingles within her, and she feels her spirits rising higher and higher;and she thinks that the moor covered with snow is even more lovely andglorious than the moor was in summer, when the fairy bells were ringingand the fairies were dancing all over the place.
"I see her," continued Betty; "she is tired, and yet not tired. She haswalked a very long way, and has not met one soul. She is very glad ofthat; she loves great solitudes, and she passionately loves nature andcold cannot hurt her when her heart is so warm and so happy. Butby-and-by she thinks of the old couple by the fireside and of the girlsshe has left behind. She turns to go back. I see her when she turns."Betty paused a minute. "The sky is very still," she continued. "The skyhas millions of stars blazing in its blue, and there isn't a cloudanywhere; and she clasps her hands with ecstasy, and thanks God forhaving made such a beautiful world. Then she starts to go home; but----"
Up to this point Betty's voice was glad and triumphant. Now its tonealtered. "I see her. She is warm still, and her heart glows withhappiness; and she does not want anything else in all the world exceptthe gray house and the girls she left behind, and the dogs by thefireside, and the old couple in the kitchen. But presently she discoversthat, try as she will, and walk as hard as she may, she cannot find thegray stone house. She is not frightened--that isn't a bit her way; butshe knows at once what has happened, for she has heard of such thingshappening to others.
"It is midnight--a bitterly cold midnight--and she is lost in the snow!She knows it. She does not hesitate for a single minute what to do, forthe old man in the gray house has told her so many stories about otherpeople who have been lost in the snow. He has told her how they fellasleep and died, and she knows quite well that she must not fall asleep.When the morning dawns she will find her way back right enough; butthere are long, long hours between now and the morning. She finds aplace where the snow is soft, and she digs and digs in it, and then liesdown in it and covers herself up. The snow is so dry that even with theheat of her body it hardly melts at all, and the great weight of snowover her keeps her warm. So now she knows she is all right, providedalways she does not go to sleep.
"She is the sort of girls who will never, by any possibility, give inwhile there is the most remote chance of her saving the situation. Shehas covered every scrap of herself except her face, and she is--oh,quite warm and comfortable! And she knows that if she keeps her thoughtsvery busy she may not sleep. There is no clock anywhere near, there isno sound whatever to break the deep stillness. The only way she can keepherself awake is by thinking. So she thinks very hard. That girl hasoften had a hard think--a very hard think--in the course of her life;but never, never one like this before, when she buries herself in thesnow and forces her brain to keep her body awake.
"She tries first of all to count the minutes as they pass; but that issleepy work, more particularly as she is tired, and really sometimesalmost forgets herself for a minute. So she works away at some stiff,long sums in arithmetic, doing mental arithmetic as rapidly as ever shecan. And so one hour passes, perhaps two. At the end of the second hoursomething very strange happens. All of a sudden she feels thatarithmetic is pure nonsense--that it never leads anywhere nor does anyone any good; and she feels also that never in the whole course of herlife has she lain in a snugger bed than her snow-bed. And she remembersthe fairies and their music in the middle of the summer night;and--hark! hark!--she hears them again! Why have they left their palaceunderground to come and see her? It is sweet of them, it is beautiful!They sit on her chest, they press close to her face, they kiss her withtheir wee lips, they bring comforting thoughts into her heart, theywhisper lovely things into her ears. She has not felt alone from thevery first; but now that the fairies have come she never, never could behappier than she is now. And then, away from the fairies (who stay closeto her all the time), she lifts her eyes and looks at the stars; and oh,the stars are so bright! And, somehow, she remembers that God is upthere; and she thinks about white-clad angels who came down once,straight from the stars, by means of a ladder, to help a good man in aBible story; and she really sees the ladder again, and the angels goingup and coming down--going up and coming down--and she gives a cry andsays, 'Oh, take me too! Oh, take me too!' One angel more beautiful thanshe could possibly describe comes towards her, and the fairies give alittle cry--for, sweet as they are, they have nothing to do withangels--and disappear. The angel has his strong arms round her, and hesays, 'Your bed of snow is not so beautiful as where you shall lie inthe land where no trouble can come.' Then she remembers no more."
At this point in her narrative Betty made a dramatic pause. Then shecontinued abruptly and in an ordinary tone, "It is the dogs who findher, and they dig her out of the snow, and the dear old shepherd and hiswife and some other people come with them; and so she is brought back tothe gray house, and never reaches the open doors where the angels ladderwould have led her through. She is sorry--for days she is terriblysorry; for she is ill, and suffers a good bit of pain. But she is allright again now; only, somehow, she can never forget that experience. Ithink I have told you all I can tell you to-night."
Instantly, at a touch, the lights were turned on again, and the room wasfull of brilliancy. Betty jumped up from her posture on the floor. Thegirls flocked round her.
"But, oh Betty! Betty! say, please say, was it you?"
"I am going to reveal no secrets," said Betty. "I said I saw the girl.Well, I did see her."
"Then she must have been you! She must have been you!" echoed voiceafter voice. "And were you really nearly killed in the snow? And did youfall asleep in your snow-bed? And did--oh, did the fairies come, andafterwards the angels? Oh Betty, do tell!"
But Betty's lips were mute.