hergoverness took her hand, and pushed her down into a low seat a littlebehind her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  "AN ENEMY HATH DONE THIS."

  The short evening service was over, and one by one, in orderlyprocession, the girls left the chapel. Annie was about to rise to herfeet to follow her school-companions, when Mrs Willis stooped down andwhispered something in her ear. Her face became instantly suffused witha dull red; she resumed her seat, and buried her face in both her hands.One or two of the girls noticed her despondent attitude as they leftthe chapel, and Cecil Temple looked back with a glance of suchunutterable sympathy that Annie's proud, suffering little heart wouldhave been touched could she but have seen the look.

  Presently the young steps died away, and Annie, raising her head, sawthat she was alone with Mr Everard, who seated himself in the placewhich Mrs Willis had occupied by her side.

  "Your governess has asked me to speak to you, my dear," he said, in hiskind and fatherly tones; "she wants us to discuss this thing which ismaking you so unhappy quite fully together." Here the clergyman paused,and, noticing a sudden wistful and soft look in the girl's brown eyes,he continued: "Perhaps, however, you have something to say to me whichwill throw light on this mystery?"

  "No, sir, I have nothing to say," replied Annie, and now again thesullen expression passed like a wave over her face.

  "Poor child," said Mr Everard. "Perhaps, Annie," he continued, "you donot quite understand me--you do not quite read my motive in talking toyou to-night. I am not here in any sense to reprove you. You areeither guilty of this sin, or you are not guilty. In either case I pityyou; it is very hard, very bitter, to be falsely accused--I pity youmuch if this is the case; but it is still harder, Annie, still morebitter, still more absolutely crushing to be accused of a sin which weare trying to conceal. In that terrible case God Himself hides Hisface. Poor child, poor child, I pity you most of all if you areguilty."

  Annie had again covered her face, and bowed her head over her hands.She did not speak for a moment, but presently Mr Everard heard a lowsob, and then another, and another, until at last her whole frame wasshaken with a perfect tempest of weeping.

  The old clergyman, who had seen many strange phases of human nature, whohad in his day comforted and guided more than one young school-girl, wasfar too wise to do anything to check this flow of grief. He knew Anniewould speak more fully and more frankly when her tears were over. Hewas right. She presently raised a very tear-stained face to theclergyman.

  "I felt very bitter at your coming to speak to me," she began. "MrsWillis has always sent for you when everything else has failed with usgirls, and I did not think she would treat me so. I was determined notto say anything to you. Now, however, you have spoken good words to me,and I can't turn away from you. I will tell you all that is in myheart. I will promise before God to conceal nothing, if only you willdo one thing for me."

  "What is that, my child?"

  "Will you believe me?"

  "Undoubtedly."

  "Ah, but you have not been tried yet. I thought Mrs Willis wouldcertainly believe; but she said the circumstantial evidence was toostrong--perhaps it will be too strong for you."

  "I promise to believe you, Annie Forest; if, before God, you can assureme that you are speaking the whole truth, I will fully believe you."

  Annie paused again, then she rose from her seat and stood a pace awayfrom the old minister.

  "This is the truth before God," she said, as she locked her two handstogether and raised her eyes freely and unshrinkingly to Mr Everard'sface.

  "I have always loved Mrs Willis. I have reasons for loving her whichthe girls don't know about. The girls don't know that when my motherwas dying she gave me into Mrs Willis's charge, and she said, `You mustkeep Annie until her father comes back.' Mother did not know wherefather was; but she said he would be sure to come back some day, andlook for mother and me: and Mrs Willis said she would keep mefaithfully until father came to claim me. That is four years ago, andmy father has never come, nor have I heard of him, and I think, I amalmost sure, that the little money which mother left must be all usedup. Mrs Willis never says anything about money, and she did not wishme to tell my story to the girls. None of them know except CecilTemple. I am sure some day father will come home, and he will give MrsWillis back the money she has spent on me; but never, never, never canhe repay her for her goodness to me. You see I cannot help loving MrsWillis. It is quite impossible for any girl to have such a friend andnot to love her. I know I am very wild, and that I do all sorts of madthings. It seems to me that I cannot help myself sometimes: but I wouldnot willingly, indeed, I would not willingly hurt anybody. LastWednesday, as you know, there was a great disturbance in the school.Dora Russell's desk was tampered with, and so was Cecil Temple's. Youknow, of course, what was found in both the desks. Mrs Willis sent forme, and asked me about the caricature which was drawn in Cecil's book.I looked at it and I told her the truth. I did not conceal one thing.I told her the whole truth as far as I knew it. She did not believe me.She said so. What more could I do then?"

  Here Annie paused, she began to unclasp and clasp her hands, and shelooked full at Mr Everard with a most pleading expression.

  "Do you mind repeating to me exactly what you said to your governess?"he questioned.

  "I said this, sir. I said, `Yes, Mrs Willis, I did draw thatcaricature. You will scarcely understand how I, who love you so much,could have been so mad and ungrateful as to do anything to turn you intoridicule. I would cut off my right hand now not to have done it; but Idid do it, and I must tell you the truth.' `Tell me, dear,' she said,quite gently then. `It was one wet afternoon about a fortnight ago,' Isaid to her; `a lot of us middle-school-girls were sitting together, andI had a pencil and some bits of paper, and I was making up funny littlegroups of a lot of us, and the girls were screaming with laughter, forsomehow I managed to make the likeness that I wanted in each case.' Itwas very wrong of me, I know. It was against the rules; but I was inone of my maddest humours, and I really do not care what theconsequences were. At last one of the girls said: `You won't dare tomake a picture like that of Mrs Willis, Annie--you know you won'tdare.' The minute she said that name I began to feel ashamed. Iremembered I was breaking one of the rules, and I suddenly tore up allmy bits of paper and flung them into the fire, and I said, `No, I wouldnot dare to show her dishonour.' Well, afterwards, as I was washing myhands for tea up in my room, the temptation came over me so stronglythat I felt I could not resist it, to make a funny little sketch of MrsWillis. I had a little scrap of thin paper, and I took out my penciland did it all in a minute. It seemed to me very funny, and I could nothelp laughing at it; and then I thrust it into my private writing-case,which I always keep locked, and I put the key in my pocket and randownstairs. I forgot all about the caricature. I had never shown it toanyone. How it got into Cecil's book is more than I can say. When Ihad finished speaking Mrs Willis looked very hard at the book. `Youare right,' she said; `this caricature is drawn on a very thin piece ofpaper, which has been cleverly pasted on the title-page.' Then, MrEverard, she asked me a lot of questions. Had I ever parted with mykeys? Had I ever left my desk unlocked? `No,' I said, `my desk isalways locked, and my keys are always in my pocket. Indeed,' I added,`my keys were absolutely safe for the last week, for they went in awhite petticoat to the wash, and came back as rusty as possible.' Icould not open my desk for a whole week, which was a great nuisance. Itold all this story to Mrs Willis, and she said to me, `You arepositively certain that this caricature has been taken out of your deskby somebody else, and pasted in here? You are sure that the caricatureyou drew is not to be found in your desk?' `Yes,' I said; `how can I beanything but sure; these are my pencil marks, and that is the funnylittle turn I gave to your neck which made me laugh when I drew it.Yes; I am certainly sure.'

  "`I have always been told, Annie,' Mrs Willis said, `that you are theonly girl in the school who can draw these caricatures
. You have neverseen an attempt at this kind of drawing amongst your school-fellows, oramongst any of the teachers?'

  "`I have never seen any of them try this special kind of drawing,' Isaid. `I wish I was like them. I wish I had never, never done it.'

  "`You have got your keys now?' Mrs Willis said.

  "`Yes,' I answered, pulling them all covered with rust out of my pocket.

  "Then she told me to leave the keys on the table, and to go upstairs andfetch down my little private desk.

  "I did so, and she made me put the rusty key in the lock and open thedesk, and together we searched through its contents. We pulled outeverything, or rather I did, and I scattered all my