Meg's Friend: A Story for Girls

  CHAPTER XVII.

  POOR MEG.

  Through the evening Meg heard the intolerable dance music going on andon. Little by little there came to her in her isolation the realizationof the thankless load she had taken upon herself--a burden of guilt ofthe meanest kind. What would Mr. Standish think of her now? He had forsome time past fallen into the background of her thoughts; but now therereturned to her the memory of this friend of her childhood. With anguishshe felt that when they met again, instead of appearing before him growninto a lady, full of the grace of blossomed womanly ways, and with thedignity which comes of loving protection to the weak, what would sheseem to him? For years, thought Meg, for all her life, she must seem amiserable wretch and a thief.

  She walked up and down the little room contemplating this picture. Shecould not face the prospect; and still, as there rose before her thatvision of a cringing, shrinking child, an atom of terror outlined thereagainst the darkness, appealing to her, Meg once more took up the loadof guilt. Up and down she wandered, unable to concentrate her thoughts,sometimes contemplating how two hours ago she was a different being--allthe change that had happened in two little hours!--then feeling that onecomfort remained to her--the thought of Elsie's gratitude. In an alienworld this little blossom of love would sweeten her lot. She turned fromthe realization of her own ruin to linger on this consolation that roundElsie's heart would hang the rich perfume of thankfulness for thesacrifice she had made. And then still, as she walked up and down, shethought how downstairs as they danced they all knew it. She was worse tothem than a beggar in the streets. "If I were to go downstairs theywould all shrink from me," she muttered bitterly. There was a stain uponher never to be wiped off. In two years would it be forgotten? she askedherself drearily. No, it would not. In three years? No, it never will,answered the thought; and then always, like the burden of her plaint,that Mr. Standish would hear of it.

  The intolerable dance music stopped at last. She heard the rustle ofdresses, the rush of feet. The party was over. The girls were going tobed. The gas was turned off and the house was plunged into darkness.

  Meg lay down upon her bed and from sheer fatigue of sorrow fell asleep.She woke with the dawn, and for a moment she forgot what had happened.Then the heavy misery shaped itself and pressed upon her soul again. Thecalm morning held a promise of hope. What would the day bring her? Wouldnot Elsie tell?

  Just before the bell for prayers rang she heard a step outside. Thehandle of the door turned and Miss Reeves entered.

  There was a moment of silence as the head mistress and the pupil facedeach other.

  "Meg, how did that diamond come into your possession?" Miss Reevesasked, not unkindly.

  Meg did not answer.

  "Will you not explain? I have come here to win your confidence. Why didyou not return it before the order came for searching the boxes?"

  A passing moment of temptation came to Meg to explain, to admit thatcertain reasons kept her silent, but she sternly repressed the impulse.

  She repeated what she had said before--she had restored the jewel, wasthat not enough? She would say nothing more.

  "Then," said Miss Reeves sternly, "I can give but one interpretation toyour obstinate silence. You are guilty of an act which seems to me themeanest that ever occurred in my school. There remains but one coursefor me to take. I will write to your guardian. You must be removed atonce. The disgrace of your presence must be removed from your comrades.You will join your schoolfellows at prayer-times only. Your meals willbe brought up and served to you here. I must forbid you to address anyof your schoolfellows; nor must you speak to any of your teachers exceptto make the small reparation of a full confession."

  Miss Reeves turned and left the room with cold stateliness. Meg remainedstanding where she was till the prayer-bell rang. The fury of the nightwas over. Her mind seemed a void. She could think no more, scarcelycould she suffer. When the bell ceased, she left the room. A few laggardgirls were hurrying out of the dormitory. They passed her with avertedfaces and in silence; and they whispered with each other. There cameupon Meg the first bitterness of the realization that she was an outcastfrom the community.

  She entered the room where all were assembled, feeling dizzy. Then asort of courage of indignation came upon her, for she was innocent. Shelooked in the direction of Elsie's place, eager to receive a glancethat would repay her for all that she was bearing; but Elsie's eyes werecarefully turned in another direction, and she appeared bent upon hidingbehind another girl, as if to avoid seeing Meg. A pang of anguish shotthrough Meg's heart. Was that little hand lifted with the others againsther? Was Elsie also thrusting her out as did all those who refused herfellowship in their lot? She felt so dazed that she remained for amoment standing, unaware of the general kneeling around her as MissReeves' voice was raised in prayer. Then her heart began to harden, andshe looked toward Elsie no more.

  When the girls were filing out she thought she would give Elsie anotherchance. The child must pass her in going out. Meg was conscious of herpet's approach, although she did not openly look her way. She felt ifshe watched Elsie and the child made an advance it would not bespontaneous. And yet, when there came no furtive touch on her hand, nowhispered word as Elsie passed, Meg could not withhold from glancingtoward her. Yes, Elsie had passed with eyes averted. That last link ofsympathy which had given her hope gave way and broke.

  Meg went up to her room, and the day passed. She sat with her chinburied in her hands looking heavily out. She felt stunned; she nolonger protested or pondered over the future. At prayer-time thatevening she did not look toward Elsie.

  The next morning there was again a moment of forgetfulness when sheawoke. Then again the horror gradually shaped itself, but this morningnature brought to her no reassurance. At the sound of the bell Meg rosewith a heart like lead. She dressed herself and went down slowly. A moodof indignant bitterness had replaced the chilled misery of herbewildered heart. After prayers Miss Reeves informed her that she hadreceived a letter from Mr. Fullbloom. He would fetch her away thatafternoon. She must be prepared to leave then.

  Meg received the news mutely, and went upstairs to begin her packing asdirected.

  She mechanically folded and put her belongings into her trunk. When shetook out the presents Mr. Standish had given her, and that bore themarks of much handling, a movement of enraged despair seized her, andshe trembled. "He'll never care to see me again, and how could I seehim?" she muttered.

  The girls were out in the playground as she finished her task. "I'll beglad to get away!" she said, as she sat on her box a moment and lookedround her. But even as she said this her mind called up before her thedeparture. "Where am I going to?" she muttered. With compressed lips shewhispered to herself as she rose, "No matter! no matter!"

  It was two o'clock; in less than an hour she knew Mr. Fullbloom would behere. Her trunk, locked and strapped, stood in a corner; her hat andcloak lay upon it ready to be put on at his summons. No one had comenear her. All her preparations were made. The old restlessness hadreturned; and she was walking up and down, thinking, thinking where wasshe to go to. What would happen to her?

  "Meg! Meg!" said a little voice in a whisper. She turned; it was Elsiestanding on the threshold of the door. There was a pause, during whichMeg eyed the little figure, huddling up into a corner, its handsconvulsively working together with a pitiful resemblance to older grief.

  "Speak to me, Meg! won't you speak to me? I am so miserable," lisped thechild piteously.

  "You ought to be," replied Meg.

  "If they would only let me go away with you!" moaned the child. "Oh,Meg, if they would only let me go away with you!"

  "How could they let you go with me? I am a thief; you are a white,pure, innocent child," Meg said in bitter sarcasm.

  "It is I who am wicked, not you. Oh, Meg, I love you so much, I love youso much!" reiterated the child, with that piteous quaver in her voice,stealing into the room, still wringing her little hands.

  "Love me
!" repeated Meg, her voice shrilly bitter; "and you do as theothers do. You turn your face away when I come into the room."

  "I am frightened, I am frightened. The girls say no one must look atyou, or talk to you. I am frightened."

  "Yes, I know you are frightened," Meg replied with softened gruffness.Elsie looked changed, she seemed a little wasted.

  "I cannot sleep. Oh, Meg, I cannot sleep, I am so miserable!" sobbedElsie, touching Meg's dress.

  A pang of pity shot through Meg's heart.

  "Hush! Elsie. Never mind, never mind," she said, stroking the child'shair. "Don't speak loud, some one may be listening."

  "I wish I could tell," said Elsie, with heaving bosom. "I try to makemyself tell. It stops here!" and the child put her hand to her throat."I try to say I took it; but I can't, I can't. And you won't tell, Meg,you won't tell?"

  "No, I won't," said Meg. "I won't. Do not be afraid, my pet."

  She kept stroking Elsie's hair, grateful for that moment of solace.

  "I wish I were dead!" cried Elsie, with a sudden wail, flinging herselfinto Meg's arms.

  "Come away this moment!" said a voice, and a hand took hold of Elsie anddragged her away.

  Meg recognized Ursula. She stood stock-still for a moment. Then shethrew herself prone down upon the ground with a passionate cry.

  That touch of comfort so rudely taken from her; that word of love fromthe child who had most right to give her love, silenced so abruptly!Why? Because in their rude honesty her comrades had decreed to exile herand abhor her like a thief.

  She remained with her face pressed down to the ground, as if she wouldpress herself into the heart of the cold floor. Vaguely she was aware ofthe bell ringing as for classes, and she knew the time had come--in afew moments more she would be gone on her way. But she did not move.

  She became aware of steps approaching. Some one touched her on theshoulder. Ursula's voice said, "Meg, you must come down at once."

  Meg turned her head round.

  "You must come down at once," repeated Ursula, as Meg kept looking ather stupidly. "You had better come down," continued Ursula gently,putting her hand upon hers. Meg rose.

  "I am going, but I will go alone," she said with returning fierceness,flinging Ursula's hand away. She pushed her hair roughly from her eyesand went toward her trunk to put on her hat and cloak.

  "You need not put on your things," said Ursula. "It is in the schoolroomyou are wanted."

  "In the schoolroom? Very well," said Meg. She passed Ursula. She wentdownstairs, and with a reckless bang she opened the schoolroom door.What new ordeal or humiliation was awaiting her?

  The room was full. Miss Reeves advanced to meet her.

  "Miss Beecham," said the head-mistress, "Elsie has confessed everything.Young ladies, I have sent for you all, for before you all Miss Beechamwas declared guilty and before you all she must be cleared of thischarge. She is entirely innocent."

  The ground seemed to sink under Meg's feet; the surroundings to fadeaway as in a splendor. She was aware of a murmur all round her, of thegirls looking at her with a new expression of regret.

  "Has Elsie confessed?" she panted.

  "Not of her own free will," replied Miss Reeves gravely. "She was forcedto confess by the suddeness of Ursula's action. Ursula had crept up tosay good-by to you. She never thought you guilty. When she came intoyour room she overheard enough to convince her of the truth. She draggedElsie before me, and forced her to tell. It was not a right thing, Meg,to shield this action. But it was so generous I cannot blame you. Youwere ready to sacrifice yourself for a child who would have let you goforth disgraced."

  "It was splendid!" said Ursula. "Meg Beecham is a noble girl."

  "She is," circled round the room.

  Then Miss Pinkett stepped forth, elegant and straight-backed even in herevident emotion. Tears stood in her eyes, yet her voice was high-pitchedand smooth.

  "I beg your pardon, Miss Beecham; I apologize with all my heart to you.It was I who first accused you. Will you forgive me?"

  "I forgive you," said Meg automatically, taking Miss Pinkett's extendedhand. Then Ursula, with spectacles shining with tears, came forward andkissed Meg, who received the embrace in the same dazed fashion. All thegirls trooped around, taking her listless hand.

  Suddenly Meg recognized Elsie standing alone, wringing her little handswith that piteous gesture of older grieving. Sinking down on her knees,she stretched out her arms.

  "Elsie, Elsie!" she cried, and in a moment the sobbing child was claspedto her heart.

  "Oh, Miss Reeves, Miss Pinkett, young ladies!" said Meg, looking round,holding Elsie tight, tears coursing down her cheeks, "do not punish her,she is so little, so tender. She took the diamond as a child might takea shining bit of glass, only because it was pretty. Do not punish her,she is so delicate, so little! It was fright that kept her silent.Forgive her!"

  There was a pause, broken by Elsie's sobs, repeated in various cornersof the room.

  "How can Elsie be forgiven?" said Miss Reeves gravely. "Worse thantaking the diamond was her willingness to let another be expelled."

  Then again Miss Pinkett stepped forward.

  "Madam," she said, "we owe Meg Beecham some reparation. I owe it to hermore than any one. For Meg's sake, pray let Elsie go unpunished!"

  "For Meg's sake!" said Ursula, seconding Miss Pinkett's petition.

  "For Meg's sake!" was repeated all round the room.

  Miss Reeves hesitated. Then laying her hand on Elsie's head:

  "Let it be so. For Meg's sake you shall be forgiven; for the sake of thegirl whom you would have injured beyond words to tell, you shall gounpunished. This miserable incident will never be referred to again.That is all that we can do to make it up to Meg--to forgive you, Elsie,for her sake."