CHAPTER XVII
A TURNING-POINT
After this exciting day matters seemed to move rather languidly in theschool. Betty was beyond doubt in low spirits. She did not complain; shedid not take any one into her confidence. Even to her sisters she wasgloomy and silent. She took long walks by herself. She neglected noduty--that is, no apparent duty--and her lessons progressed swimmingly.Her two great talents--the one for music, the other for recitation--werebringing her into special notice amongst the different teachers. She waslooked upon by the educational staff as a girl who might bring markeddistinction to the school. Thus the last few days of that miserable weekpassed.
On Tuesday evening Miss Symes had a little talk with Mrs. Haddo.
"What is it, dear St. Cecilia?" asked the head mistress, lookinglovingly into the face of her favorite teacher.
"I am anxious about Betty," was the reply.
"Sit down, dear, won't you? Emma, I have been also anxious. I cannotunderstand why that notice was put up on the blackboard, and why Bettyhas left the club. Have you any clue, dear?"
"None whatsoever," was Miss Symes's answer. "Of course I, as a teacher,cannot possibly question any of the girls, and they are none of themwilling to confide in me."
"We certainly cannot question them," said Mrs. Haddo. "But now I wish tosay something to you. Betty has been absent from evening prayers at thechapel so often lately that I think it is my duty to speak to her on thesubject."
"I have also observed that fact," replied Miss Symes. "Betty does notlook well. There is something, beyond doubt, weighing on her mind. Sheavoids her fellow-pupils, whereas she used to be, I may almost say, thefavorite of the school. She scarcely speaks to any one now. When shewalks she walks alone. Even her dear little sisters are anxious abouther; I can see it, although they are far too discreet to say a word.Poor Betty's little face seems to me to grow paler every day, and hereyes more pathetic. Mrs. Haddo, can you not do something?"
"You know, Emma, that I never force confidences; I think it a greatmistake. If a girl wishes to speak to me, she understands me well enoughto be sure I shall respect every word she says; otherwise, I think itbest to allow a girl of Betty Vivian's age to fight out her difficultiesalone."
"As her teacher, I have nothing to complain of," said Miss Symes. "Sheis just brilliant. She seems to leap over mental difficulties as thoughthey did not exist. Her intuition is something marvellous, and she willgrasp an idea almost as soon as it is uttered. I should like you to hearher play; it is a perfect delight to teach her; her little fingers seemto be endowed with the very spirit of music. And then that delightfulvoice of hers thrills one when she recites aloud, as she does twice aweek in my recitation-class. As a matter of fact, dear Mrs. Haddo, I amdeeply attached to Betty; but I feel there is something wrong just now."
"A turning-point," said Mrs. Haddo. "How often we come to them in life!"
"God grant she may take the right turning!" was Miss Symes's remark. Shesat silent, gazing gloomily into the fire.
"It is not like you, Emma, to be so despondent," said the head mistress.
"I cannot help feeling despondent, for I think there is mischief afootand that Betty is suffering. I wonder if----"
At that moment there came a tap at the door. Mrs. Haddo said, "Come in,"and Mr. Fairfax entered.
"Ah," said Mrs. Haddo, "you are just the very man we want, Mr. Fairfax!Please sit down."
Mr. Fairfax immediately took the chair which was offered to him. "I havecome," he said, "to speak to you and to Miss Symes with regard to one ofyour pupils--Betty Vivian."
"How strange!" said Mrs. Haddo. "Miss Symes and I were talking aboutBetty only this very moment. Can you throw any light on what istroubling her?"
"No," said Mr. Fairfax. "I came here to ask if you could."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know in my capacity as chaplain different things come to myears; but I am under a promise not to repeat them. I am, however, underno promise in this instance. I was walking through the shrubberyhalf-an-hour ago--I was, in fact, thinking out the little address I wantto give the dear girls next Sunday morning--when I suddenly heard a lowsob. I paused to listen; it was some way off, but I heard it quitedistinctly. I did not like to approach--you understand one's feeling ofdelicacy in such a matter; but it came again, and was so veryheartrending that I could not help saying, 'Who is there? Is any one introuble?' To my amazement, a girl started to her feet; she had beenlying full-length, with her face downwards, on the damp grass. She cameup to me, and I recognized her at once. She was Betty Vivian. There wasvery little light, but I could see that she was in terrible distress.She could scarcely get out her words. 'It is lost!' she said--'lost!Some one has stolen it!' And then she rushed away from me in thedirection of the house. I thought it my duty to come and tell you, Mrs.Haddo. The girl's grief was quite remarkable and out of the common. Thetone in which she said, 'It is lost--lost!' was tragic."
Mrs. Haddo sat very still for a minute. Then she said gently, "Would yourather speak to her, or shall I?"
"Under the circumstances," said Mr. Fairfax, "it is only right for me tosay something more. Betty Vivian came to see me some days ago, and saidthat she had been expelled from the Specialities; and she asked me if,under such conditions, she ought to attend evening prayers in thechapel. I begged for her full confidence. She would not give it."
"And what did you say about evening prayers?"
"I said that was a matter between her own conscience and God. I couldnot get anything further out of her; but since then you may haveobserved that she has hardly attended chapel at all."
"I certainly have noticed it," said Miss Symes.
Mrs. Haddo did not speak for a minute. Then she said in an authoritativevoice, "Thank you, Mr. Fairfax; I am deeply obliged to you for havingcome to me and taken me so far into your confidence. Emma, will you askBetty to come to me here? If she resists, bring her, dear; if she stillresists, I will go to her. Dear Mr. Fairfax, we must pray for thischild. There is something very seriously wrong; but she has won myheart, and I cannot give her up. Will you leave me also, dear friend,for I must see Betty by herself?"
Miss Symes immediately left the room. The clergyman shortly afterwardsfollowed her example.
Of all the teachers, Miss Symes was the greatest favorite in the upperschool. She went swiftly through the lounge, where the girls wereusually to be found at this hour chatting, laughing, amusing themselveswith different games; for this was the relaxation-hour of the day, whenevery girl might do precisely what she liked. Miss Symes did not for amoment expect to find Betty in such an animated, lively, almost noisygroup. To her amazement, however, she was attracted by peals oflaughter; and--looking in the direction whence they came, she perceivedthat Betty herself was the center of a circle of girls, who were allurging her to "take-off" different girls and teachers in the school.
Betty was an inimitable mimic. At that very moment it seemed to MissSymes that she heard her own voice speaking--her own very gentle,cultivated, high-bred voice. Amongst the girls who listened and roaredwith laughter might have been seen Sarah Butt, Sibyl Ray, and severalmore who had only recently been moved to the upper school.
"Now, please, take-off Mademoiselle. Whoever you neglect, please bestowsome attention on Mademoiselle, dear Betty!" cried several voices.
Betty drew herself up, perked her head a little to one side, put on thevery slightest suspicion of a squint, and spoke in the high-pitched,rapid tone of the Frenchwoman. She looked her part, and she acted it.
"And now Fraeulein--Fraeulein!" said another voice.
But before Betty could change herself into a stout German Fraeulein, MissSymes laid a quiet hand on her shoulder. "May I speak to you for aminute, Betty?"
"Why, certainly," said Betty, starting and reddening faintly.
"Oh, dear St. Cecilia," exclaimed several of the girls, "don't takeBetty from us now! She is such fun!"
"I was amusing the girls by doing a little bit of mimicry,"
said Betty."Miss Symes, did you see me mimicking you?"
"I both saw and heard you, my dear. Your imitation was excellent."
"Oh, please, dear St. Cecilia, don't say you are hurt!" cried SarahButt.
"Not in the least," said Miss Symes. "The gift of mimicry is a somewhatdangerous one, but I don't think Betty meant it unkindly. I would askher, however, to spare our good and noble head mistress."
"We begged of her to be Mrs. Haddo, but she wouldn't," said Sibyl.
"Come, Betty," said Miss Symes. She took the girl's hand and led heraway.
"What do you want with me?" said Betty. The brilliance in her eyes whichhad been so remarkable a few minutes ago had now faded; her cheekslooked pale; her small face wore a hungry expression.
"Mrs. Haddo wants to see you, Betty."
"Oh--but--must I go?"
"Need you ask, Betty Vivian? The head mistress commands your presence."
"Then I will go."
"Remember, I trust you," said Miss Symes.
"You may," answered the girl. She drew herself up and walked quickly andwith great dignity through the lounge into the great corridor beyond,and so towards Mrs. Haddo's sitting-room. Here she knocked, and wasimmediately admitted.
"Betty, I wish to speak to you," said Mrs. Haddo. "Sit down, dear. Youand I have not had a chat for some time."
"A very weary and long time ago!" answered Betty. All the vivacity whichhad marked her face in the lounge had left it.
But Mrs. Haddo, who could read character so rapidly and with suchunerring instinct, knew that the girl was, so to speak, on guard. Shewas guarding herself, and was under a very strong tension. "I havesomething to say to you, Betty," said Mrs. Haddo.
Betty lowered her eyes.
"Look at me, my child."
With an effort Betty raised her eyes, glanced at Mrs. Haddo, and thenlooked down again. "Wait, please, will you?" she said.
"I am about to do so. You are unhappy."
Betty nodded.
"Will you tell me what is the matter?"
Betty shook her head.
"Do you think it is right for you to be unhappy in a school like mine,and not to tell me--not to tell the one who is placed over you as amother would be placed were she alive--what is troubling you?"
"It may be wrong," said Betty; "but even so, I cannot tell you."
"You must understand," said Mrs. Haddo, speaking with great restraintand extreme distinctness, "that it is impossible for me to allow thisstate of things to continue. I know nothing, and yet in one sense I knowall. Nothing has been told me with regard to the true story of yourunhappiness, but the knowledge that you are unhappy reached me beforeyou yourself confirmed it. To-night Mr. Fairfax found you out ofdoors--a broken rule, Betty, but I pass that over. He heard you sobbingin the bitterness of your distress, and discovered that you were lyingface downwards on the grass in the fir-plantation. When he called you,you went to him and told him you had lost something."
"So I have," answered Betty.
"Is it because of that you are unhappy?"
"Yes, because of that--altogether because of that."
"What have you lost, dear?"
"Mrs. Haddo, I cannot tell you."
"Betty, I ask you to do so. I have a right to know. I stand to you inthe place of a mother. I repeat that I have a right to know."
"I cannot--I cannot tell you!" replied Betty.
Mrs. Haddo, who had been seated, now rose, went over to the girl, andput one hand on her shoulder.
Betty shivered from head to foot. Then she sprang to her feet and moveda little away. "Don't!" she said. "When you touch me it is like fire!"
"My touch, Betty Vivian, like fire!"
"Oh, you know that I love you!" sobbed poor Betty.
"Prove it, then, dear, by giving me your confidence."
"I would," said Betty, speaking rapidly, "if that which is causing mesuffering had anything at all to do with you. But it has nothing to dowith you, Mrs. Haddo, nor with the school, nor with the girls in theschool. It is my own private trouble. Once I had a treasure. Thetreasure is gone."
"You would, perhaps, like it back again?" said Mrs. Haddo.
"Ah yes--yes! but I cannot get it. Some one has taken it. It is gone."
"Once again, Betty, I ask you to give me your confidence."
"I cannot."
Mrs. Haddo resumed her seat. "Is that your very last--yourfinal--decision, Betty Vivian?"
"It is, Mrs. Haddo."
"How old are you, dear?"
"I have told you. I was sixteen and a half when I came. I am rather morenow."
"You are only a child, dear Betty."
"Not in mind, nor in life, nor in circumstances," replied Betty.
"We will suppose that all that is true," answered Mrs. Haddo. "We willsuppose, also, that you are cast upon the world friendless and alone.Were such a thing to happen, what would you do?"
Betty shivered. "I don't know," she replied.
"Now, Betty, I cannot take your answer as final. I will give you a fewdays longer; at the end of that time I will again beg for yourconfidence. In the meanwhile I must say something very plainly. You cameto this school with your sisters under special conditions which you, mypoor child, had nothing to do with. But I must say frankly that I wasunwilling to admit you three into the school after term had begun, andit was contrary to my rules to take girls straight into the upper schoolwho had never been in the lower school. Nevertheless, for the sake of myold friend Sir John Crawford, I did this."
"Not for Fanny's sake, I hope?" said Betty, her eyes flashing for aminute, and a queer change coming over her face.
"I have done what I did, Betty, for the sake of my dear friend Sir JohnCrawford, who is your guardian and your sisters' guardian, and who isnow in India. I was unwilling to have you, my dears; but when youarrived and I saw you, Betty, I thanked God, for I thought that Iperceived in you one whom I could love, whom I could train, whom I couldhelp. I was interested in you, very deeply interested, from the first. Iperceived with pleasure that my feelings towards you were shared by yourschoolfellows. You became a favorite, and you became so just because ofthat beautiful birthright of yours--your keen wit, your unselfishness,and your pleasant and bright ways. I did an extraordinary thing when Iadmitted you into the school, and your schoolfellows did a thing quiteas extraordinary when they allowed you, a newcomer, to join that specialclub which, more than anything else, has laid the foundation of soundand noble morals in the school. You were made a Speciality. I havenothing to do with the club, my dear; but I was pleased--nay, I wasproud--when I saw that my girls had such discernment as to select you asone of their, I might really say august, number. You took your honors inprecisely the spirit I should have expected of you--sweetly, modestly,without any undue sense of pride or hateful self-righteousness. Then, afew days ago, there came a thunderclap; and teachers and girls werealike amazed to find that you were no longer a member. By the rules ofthe club we were not permitted to ask any questions----"
"But I, as a late member, am permitted to tell you this much, Mrs.Haddo. I was, and I think quite rightly, expelled from the club."
"Betty!"
"It is true," answered Betty.
"And you will not tell me why?"
"No more can I tell you why than I can explain to you what I have lost."
"Betty, my poor child, there is a mystery somewhere. I am deeply puzzledand terribly distressed. This is Wednesday evening. This day week, atthe same hour, I will send for you again and ask for your full andabsolute confidence. If you refuse to give it to me, Betty, I will notexpel you, my child; but I must send you from Haddo Court. I have an oldfriend who will receive you until I can get into communication with SirJohn Crawford, for the sort of mystery which now exists is bad for theschool as a whole. You are intelligent enough to perceive that."
"Yes, Mrs. Haddo, I am quite intelligent enough to perceive it." Bettystood up as she spoke.
"Have you anything more to say?"
/> "Nothing," replied Betty.
"This day week, then, my child. And one word before we part. The chapelwhere Mr. Fairfax reads prayers--where God, I hope, is worshiped both inspirit and in truth--is meant as much for the sorrowful, the erring, thesinners, as for those who think themselves close to Him. For, Betty, theGod whom I believe in is a very present Help in time of trouble. I wantyou to realize that at least, and not to cease attending prayers, mydear."
Betty bent her head. The next minute she went up to Mrs. Haddo, flungherself on her knees by that lady's side, took her long white hand,kissed it with passion, and left the room.