possessions about onthe table, and then I looked up almost triumphantly at Mrs Willis.
"`You see the caricature is not here,' I said, `somebody picked the lockand took it away.'
"`This lock has not been picked,' Mrs Willis said, `and what is thatlittle piece of white paper sticking out of the private drawer?'
"`Oh, I forgot my private drawer,' I said; `but there is nothing in it--nothing whatever,' and then I touched the spring, and pulled it open,and there lay the little caricature which I had drawn in the bottom ofthe drawer. There it lay, not as I had left it, for I had never put itinto the private drawer. I saw Mrs Willis's face turn very white, andI noticed that her hands trembled. I was all red myself, and very hot,and there was a choking lump in my throat, and I could not have got asingle word out even if I had wished to. So I began scrambling thethings back into my desk, as hard as ever I could, and then I locked it,and put the rusty keys back in my pocket.
"`What am I to believe now, Annie?' Mrs Willis said.
"`Believe anything you like now,' I managed to say; and then I took mydesk and walked out of the room, and would not wait even though shecalled me back.
"That is the whole story, Mr Everard," continued Annie. "I have noexplanation whatever to give. I did make the one caricature of my deargoverness. I did not make the other. The second caricature iscertainly a copy of the first, but I did not make it. I don't know whomade it. I have no light whatever to throw on the subject. You seeafter all," added Annie Forest, raising her eyes to the clergyman'sface, "it is impossible for you to believe me. Mrs Willis does notbelieve me, and you cannot be expected to. I don't suppose you are tobe blamed. I don't see how you can help yourself."
"The circumstantial evidence is very strong against you, Annie," repliedthe clergyman; "still, I promised to believe, and I have no intention ofgoing back from my word. If, in the presence of God in this littlechurch you would willingly and deliberately tell me a lie I should nevertrust human being again. No, Annie Forest, you have many faults, butyou are not a liar. I see the impress of truth on your brow, in youreyes, on your lips. This is a very gainful mystery, my child; but Ibelieve you. I am going to see Mrs Willis now. God bless you, Annie.Be brave, be courageous, don't foster malice in your heart to anyunknown enemy. An enemy has truly done this thing, poor child; but GodHimself will bring this mystery to light. Trust Him, my dear; and now Iam going to see Mrs Willis."
While Mr Everard was speaking, Annie's whole expressive face hadchanged; the sullen look had left it; the eyes were bright with renewedhope; the lips had parted in smiles. There was a struggle for speech,but no words came; the young girl stooped down and raised the oldclergyman's withered hands to her lips.
"Let me stay here a little longer," she managed to say at last; and thenhe left her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
"THE SWEETS ARE POISONED."
"I think, my dear madam," said Mr Everard to Mrs Willis, "that youmust believe your pupil. She has not refused to confess to you from anystubbornness, but from, the simple reason that she has nothing toconfess. I am firmly convinced that things are as she stated them, MrsWillis. There is a mystery here which we neither of us can explain, butwhich we must unravel."
Then Mrs Willis and the clergyman had a long and anxious talk together.It lasted for a long time, and some of its results at least weremanifest the next morning, for, just before the morning's work began,Mrs Willis came to the large school-room, and, calling Annie Forest toher side, laid her hand on the young girl's shoulder.
"I wish to tell you all, young ladies," she said, "that I completely andabsolutely exonerate Annie Forest from having any part in thedisgraceful occurrence which took place in this school-room a short timeago. I allude, of course, as you all know, to the book which was foundtampered with in Cecil Temple's desk. Some one else in this room isguilty, and the mystery has still to be unravelled, and the guilty girlhas still to come forward and declare herself. If she is willing atthis moment to come to me here, and fully and freely confess her sin, Iwill quite forgive her."
The head-mistress paused, and, still with her hand on Annie's shoulder,looked anxiously down the long room. The love and forgiveness which shefelt shone in her eyes at this moment. No girl need have feared aughtbut tenderness from her just then.
No one stirred; the moment passed, and a look of sternness returned tothe mistress's fine face.
"No," she said, in her emphatic and clear tones, "the guilty girlprefers waiting until God discovers her sin for her. My dear, whoeveryou are, that hour is coming, and you cannot escape from it. In themeantime, girls, I wish you all to receive Annie Forest as quiteinnocent. I believe in her, so does Mr Everard, and so must you.Anyone who treats Miss Forest except as a perfectly innocent andtruthful girl incurs my severe displeasure. My dear, you may return toyour seat."
Annie, whose face was partly hidden by her curly hair during the greaterpart of this speech, now tossed it back, and raised her brown eyes witha look of adoration in them to her teacher. Mrs Willis's face,however, still looked harassed. Her eyes met Annie's, but nocorresponding glow was kindled in them; their glance was just, calm, butcold.
The childish heart was conscious of a keen pang of agony, and Annie wentback to her lessons without any sense of exultation.
The fact was this: Mrs Willis's judgment and reason had been broughtround by Mr Everard's words, but in her heart of hearts, almost unknownto herself, there still lingered a doubt of the innocence of her waywardand pretty pupil. She said over and over to herself that she really nowquite believed in Annie Forest, but then would come those whisperingsfrom her pained and sore heart.
"Why did she ever make a caricature of one who has been as a mother toher? If she made one caricature, could she not make another? Above allthings, if _she_ did not do it, who did?"
Mrs Willis turned away from these unpleasant whispers--she would notlet them stay with her, and turned a deaf ear to their ugly words. Shehad publicly declared in the school her belief in Annie's absoluteinnocence, but at the moment when her pupil looked up at her with aworld of love and adoration in her gaze, she found to her own infinitedistress that she could not give her the old love.
Annie went back to her companions, and bent her head over her lessons,and tried to believe that she was very thankful and very happy, andCecil Temple managed to whisper a gentle word of congratulation to her,and at the twelve o'clock walk Annie perceived that a few of herschool-fellows looked at her with friendly eyes again. She perceivednow that when she went into the play-room she was not absolutelytabooed, and that, if she chose, she might speedily resume her old reignof popularity. Annie had, to a remarkable extent, the gift of inspiringlove, and her old favourites would quickly have flocked back to theirsovereign had she so willed it. It is certainly true that the girls towhom the whole story was known in all its bearings found it difficult tounderstand how Annie could be innocent; but Mr Everard's and MrsWillis's assertions were too potent to be disregarded, and most of thegirls were only too willing to let the whole affair slide from theirminds, and to take back their favourite Annie to their hearts again.
Annie, however, herself did not so will it. In the play-room shefraternised with the little ones who were alike her friends in adversityand sunshine; she rejected the overtures of her old favourites, butplayed, and romped, and was merry with the children of the sixth class.She even declined Cecil's invitation to come and sit with her in herdrawing-room.
"Oh, no," she said, "I hate being still; I am in no humour for a talk.Another time, Cecil, another time. Now then, Sybil, my beauty, get wellon my back, and I'll be the willing dog carrying you round and round theroom."
Annie's face had not a trace of care or anxiety on it, but her eyeswould not quite meet Cecil's, and Cecil sighed as she turned away, andher heart, too, began to whisper little, mocking, ugly doubts of poorAnnie.
During the half-hour before tea that evening Annie was sitting on thefloor with a small child in her lap, and
two other little ones tumblingabout her, when she was startled by a shower of lollipops being pouredover her head, down her neck, and into her lap. She started up and metthe sleepy gaze of Susan Drummond.
"That's to congratulate you, Miss," said Susan; "you're a very luckygirl to have escaped as you did."
The little ones began putting Susan's lollipops vigorously into theirmouths. Annie sprang to her feet, shaking the sticky sweetmeats out ofher dress on to the floor.
"What have I escaped from?" she asked, turning round and facing hercompanion haughtily.
"Oh, dear me!" said Susan, stepping back a pace or two. "I--ah--"stifling a yawn--"I only meant you were very near getting