A Very Naughty Girl

“Certainly,” said Lady Frances. “I ordered her to be out of the house by half-past three; it is now past five o’clock.”

“What am I to do for a maid?”

“My servant Read shall wait on you to-night and every evening and morning until our guests have gone; then Audrey’s maid Louisa will attend on you.”

“But I want a maid all to myself.”

“You cannot have one. Louisa will give you what assistance is necessary. I presume you do not want to be absolutely dependent; you would like to be able to do things for yourself.”

“In mother’s time I did everything for myself, but now it is different. I am a very, very rich girl now.”

Lady Frances was silent when Evelyn made this remark.

“I am rich, am I not, Aunt Frances?” said the little heiress almost timidly.

“I cannot see where the riches come in, Evelyn. At the present moment you depend on your uncle for every penny that is spent upon you.”

“But I am the heiress!”

“Let the future take care of itself. You are a little girl – small, insignificant, and ignorant. You require to be trained and looked after, and to have your character moulded, and for all these things you depend on the kindness of your relations. The fact is this, Evelyn: at present you have not the slightest idea of your true position. When you find your level I shall have hopes of you – not before.”

Evelyn leant back hopelessly in the carriage and began to sob. After a time she said:

“I wish you would let me keep Jasper.”

Lady Frances was silent.

“Why won’t you let me keep Jasper?”

“I do not consider it good for you.”

“But mothery asked you to.”

“It gives me pain, Evelyn, under the circumstances to refuse your mother’s request; but I have consulted your uncle, and we both feel that the steps I have taken are the only ones to take.”

“Who will sleep in my room to-night?”

“Are you such a baby as to need anybody?”

“I never slept alone in my life. I am quite terrified. I suppose your big, ancient house is haunted?”

“Oh, what a silly child you are! Very well, for a night or two I will humor you, and Read shall sleep in the room; but now clearly understand I allow no bedroom suppers and no gossip – but Read will see to that. Now, make up your mind to be happy and contented – in short, to submit to the life which Providence has ordered for you. Think first of others and last of yourself and you may be happy. Consult Audrey and Miss Sinclair and you will gain wisdom. Obey me whether you like it or not, or you will certainly be a very wretched girl. Ah! and here we are. You would like to go to the schoolroom; they are having tea there, I believe. Run off, dear; that will do for the present.”

When Evelyn reached the schoolroom she found a busy and animated group all seated about in different parts of it. They were eagerly discussing the charade, and when Evelyn arrived she was welcomed.

“I am ever so sorry, Evelyn,” said Audrey, “that you cannot have the part you wanted; but we mean to get up some other charades later on in the week, and then you shall help us and have a very good part. You do not mind our arrangement for to-night, do you?”

Evelyn replied somewhat sulkily. Audrey determined to take no notice. She sat down by her little cousin, told Sophie to fetch some hot tea, and soon coaxed Evelyn into a fairly good-humor. The small part she was to undertake was read over to her, and she was obliged to get certain words by heart. She had little or no idea of acting, but there was a certain calm assurance about her which would carry her through many difficulties. The children, incited by Audrey’s example, were determined to pet her and make the best of her; and when she did leave the schoolroom she felt almost as happy and important as she thought she ought to be.

“What a horrid girl she is!” said Sophie as soon as the door had closed behind Evelyn.

“I wish you would not say that,” remarked Audrey; and a look of distress visited her pretty face.

“Oh, we do not mind for ourselves,” remarked Juliet; “it is on your account, Audrey. You know what great friends we have always been, and now to have you associated every day, and all day long with a girl of that sort – it really seems almost past bearing.”

“I shall get used to it,” said Audrey. “And remember that I pity her, and am sorry – very sorry – for her. I dare say we shall win her over by being kind.”

“Well,” said Henrietta, rising as she spoke and slowly crossing the room, “I have promised to be civil to her for your sake for a day or two, but I vow it will not last long if she gives herself such ridiculous airs. The idea of her ever having a place like this!”

She said the last words below her breath, and Audrey did not hear them. Presently her mother called her, and the young girl ran off. The others looked at each other.

“Well, Arthur, and what is filling your mind?” said his sister Henrietta, looking into the face of the handsome boy.

“I am thinking of Sylvia,” he answered. “I wish she were here instead of Evelyn. Don’t you like her very much, Hennie? Don’t you think she is a very handsome and very interesting girl?”

“I hardly spoke to her,” replied Henrietta. “I saw you were taken with her.”

“She was mysterious; that is one reason why I like her,” he replied. Then he added abruptly: “I wish you would make friends with her, Henrietta. I wish you, and Juliet too, could be specially kind to her; she looks so very sad.”

“I never saw a merrier girl,” was Juliet’s reply. “But then, I don’t see people with your eyes; you are always a good one at guessing people’s secrets.”

“I take after Moss in that,” he replied.

“There never was any one like her,” said Juliet. “Well, I am going to dress now. I hope the charade will go off well. What a blessing Lady Frances came to the rescue and delivered us from Evelyn’s spoiling everything by taking a good part!”

Meanwhile Evelyn had gone up to her room. It was neat and in perfect order once more. Jasper’s brief reign had passed and left no sign. The fire burned brightly on the carefully swept-up hearth; the electric light made the room bright as day. A neat, grave-looking woman was standing by the fire, and when Evelyn appeared she came forward to meet her.

“My name is Mrs. Read,” she said. “I am my mistress’s own special maid, but she has asked me to see to your toilet this evening, Miss Wynford; and this, I understand, is the dress her ladyship wishes you to wear.”

Evelyn pouted; then she tossed off her hat and looked full up at Read. Her lips quivered, and a troubled, pathetic light for the first time filled her brown eyes.

“Where is Jasper?” she asked abruptly.

“Miss Jasper has left, my dear young lady.”

“Then I hate you, and I don’t want you to dress me. You can go away,” said Evelyn.

“I am sorry, Miss Wynford, but her ladyship’s orders are that I am to attend to your wardrobe. Perhaps you will allow me to do your hair and put on your dress at once, as her ladyship wants me to go to her a little later.”

“You will do nothing of the kind. I will dress myself now that Jasper has gone.”

“And a good thing too, miss. Young ladies ought always to make themselves useful. The more you know, the better off you will be; that is my opinion.”

Evelyn looked full up at Read. Read had a kindly face, calm blue eyes, a firm, imperturbable sort of mouth. She wore her hair very neatly banded on each side of her head. Her dress was perfectly immaculate. There was nothing out of place; she looked, in short, like the very soul of order.

“Do you know who I am?” was Evelyn’s remark.

“Certainly I do, Miss Wynford.”

“Please tell me.”

The glimmer of a smile flitted across Read’s calm mouth.

“You are a young lady from Tasmania, niece to the Squire, and you have come over here to be educated with Miss Audrey – bless her!”

“Is that all you know!” said Evelyn. “Then I will tell you more. There will come a day when your Miss Audrey will have nothing to do with the Castle, and when I shall have everything to do with it. I am to be mistress here any day, whenever my uncle dies.”

“My dear Miss Wynford, don’t speak like that! The Squire is safe to live, Providence permitting, for many a long year.”

Evelyn sat down again.

“I think my aunt, Lady Frances, one of the cruellest women in the world,” she continued. “Now you know what I think, and you can tell her, you nasty cross-patch. You can go away and tell her at once. I longed to say so to her face when I was out driving to-day, but she has got the upper hand of me, although she is not going to keep it. I don’t want you to help me; I hate you nearly as much as I hate her!”

Read looked as though she did not hear a single remark that Evelyn made. She crossed the room, and presently returned with a can of hot water and poured some into a basin.

“Now, miss,” she said, “if you will wash your face and hands, I will arrange your hair.”

There was something in her tone which reduced Evelyn to silence.

“Did you not hear what I said?” she remarked after a minute.

“No, miss; it may be more truthful to say I did not. When young ladies talk silly, naughty words I have a ’abit of shutting up my ears; so it ain’t no manner of use to talk on to me, miss, for I don’t hear, and I won’t hear, and that is flat. If you will come now, like a good little lady, and allow yourself to be dressed, I have a bit of a surprise for you; but you will not know about it before your toilet is complete.”

“A bit of a surprise!” said Evelyn, who was intensely curious. “What in the world can it be?”

“I will tell you when you are dressed, miss; and I must ask you to hurry, for my mistress is waiting for me.”

If Evelyn had one overweening failing more than another, it was inordinate curiosity. She rose, therefore, and submitted with a very bad grace to Read’s manipulations. Her face and hands were washed, and Read proceeded to brush out the scanty flaxen locks.

“Are you not going to pile my hair on the top of my head?” asked the little girl.

“Oh dear, no, Miss Wynford; that ain’t at all the way little ladies of your age wear their hair.”

“I always wore it like that when I was in Tasmania with mothery!”

“Tasmania is not England, miss. It would not suit her ladyship for you to wear your hair so.”

“Then I won’t wear it any other way.”

“As you please, miss. I can put on your dress, and you can arrange your hair yourself, but I won’t give you what will be a bit of a surprise to you.”

“Oh, do it as you please,” said Evelyn.

Her hair, very pretty in itself, although far too thin to make much show, was accordingly arranged in childish fashion; and when Evelyn presently found herself arrayed in her high-bodied and long-sleeved white muslin dress, with white silk stockings and little silk shoes to match, and a white sash round her waist, she gazed at herself in the glass in puzzled wonder.

Read stood for a moment watching her face.

“I am pretty, am I not?” said Evelyn, turning and looking full at her maid.

“It is best not to think of looks, and it is downright sinful to talk of them,” was Read’s somewhat severe answer.

Evelyn’s eyes twinkled.

“I feel like a very good, pretty little girl,” she said. “Last night I was a charming grown-up young lady. Very soon again I shall be a charming grown-up young lady, and whether Aunt Frances likes it or not, I shall be much, much better-looking than Audrey. Now, please, I have been good, and I want what you said you had for me.”

“It is a letter from Jasper,” replied Read. “She told me I was to give it to you. Now, please, miss, don’t make yourself untidy. You look very nice and suitable. When the gong rings you can go down-stairs, or sooner if your fancy takes you. I am going off now to attend to my mistress.”

When alone, Evelyn tore open the letter which Jasper had left for her. It was short, and ran as follows:

My darling, precious Lamb, – The best friends must part, but, oh, it is a black, black heart that makes it necessary! My heart is bleeding to think that you won’t have me to make your chocolate, and to lie down in the little white bed by your side this evening. Yes, it is bleeding, and bleeding badly, and there will be no blessing on her who has tried to part us. But, Miss Evelyn, my dear, don’t you fret, for though I am away I do not mean to be far away, and when you want me I will still be there. I have a plan in my head, and I will let you know about it when it is properly laid. No more at present, but if you think of me every minute to-night, so will I think of you, my dear little white Eve; and don’t forget, darling, that whatever they may do to you, the time will come when they will all, the Squire excepted, be under your thumb.

– Your loving“Jasper.”

The morsel of content and satisfaction which Evelyn had felt when she saw herself looking like a nice, ordinary little girl, and when she had sat in the schoolroom surrounded by all the gay young folks of her cousin’s station in life, vanished completely as she read Jasper’s injudicious words. Tears flowed from her eyes; she clenched her hands. She danced passionately about the room. She longed to tear from her locks the white ribbons which Read had arranged there; she longed to get into the white satin dress which she had worn on the previous occasion; she longed to do anything on earth to defy Lady Frances; but, alack and alas! what good were longings when the means of yielding to them were denied? – for all that precious and fascinating wardrobe had been put into Evelyn’s traveling-trunks, and those trunks had been conveyed from the blue-and-silver bedroom. The little girl found that she had to submit.

“Well, I do – I do,” she thought – “but only outwardly. Oh, she will never break me in! Mothery darling, she will never break me in. I am going to be naughty always, always, because she is so cruel, and because I hate her, and because she has parted me from Jasper – your friend, my darling mothery, your friend!”

CHAPTER XII. – HUNGER

When Jasper was conveyed from Wynford Castle she drove to the “Green Man” in the village. There she asked the landlady if she could give her a small bedroom for the night. The landlady, a certain Mrs. Simpson, was quite willing to oblige Miss Jasper. She was accommodated with a bedroom, and having seen her boxes deposited there, wandered about the village. She took the bearings of the place, which was small and unimportant, and altogether devoted to the interests of the great folks at Castle Wynford. Wynford village lived, indeed, for the Castle; without the big house, as they called it, the villagers would have little or no existence. The village received its patronage from the Squire and his family. Every house in the village belonged to Squire Wynford. The inhabitants regarded him as if he were their feudal lord. He was kindly to all, sympathetic in sorrow, ready to rejoice when bright moments visited each or any of his tenants. Lady Frances was an admirable almoner of the different charities which came from the great house. There was not a poor woman in the length and breadth of Wynford village who was not perfectly well aware that her ladyship knew all about her, even to her little sins and her small transgressions; all about her struggles as well as her falls, her temptations as well as her moments of victory. Lady Frances was loved and feared; the Squire was loved and respected; Audrey was loved in the sort of passionate way in which people will regard the girl who always has been to them more or less a little princess. Therefore now, as Jasper walked slowly through the village with the fading light falling all over her, she knew she was a person of interest. Beyond doubt that was the case; but although the villagers were interested in her, and peeped outside their houses to watch her (even the grocer, who did a roaring trade, and took the tenor solo on Sunday in the church choir, peered round his doorstep with the others), she knew that she was favored with no admiring looks, and that the villagers one and all were prepared to fight her. That was indeed the case, for secrets are no secrets where a great family are concerned, and the villagers knew that Jasper had come over from the other side of the world with the real heiress.

“A dowdy, ill-favored girl,” they said one to the other; “but nevertheless, when the Squire – bless him! – is gathered to his fathers, she will reign in his stead, and sweet, darling, beautiful Miss Audrey will be nowhere.”

They said this, repeating the disagreeable news one to the other, and vowing each and all that they would never care for the Australian girl, and never give her a welcome.

As Jasper slowly walked she was conscious of the feeling of hostility which surrounded her.

“It won’t do,” she said to herself. “I meant to take up my abode at the ‘Green Man,’ and I meant that no one in the place should turn me out, but I do not believe I shall be able to continue there; and yet, to go far away from my sweet little Eve is not to be thought of. I have money of my own. Her mother was a wise woman when she said to me, ‘Jasper, the time may come when you will need it; and although it belongs to Eve, you must spend it as you think best in her service.’

“It ain’t much,” thought Jasper to herself, “but it is sixty pounds, and I have it in gold sovereigns, scattered here and there in my big black trunk, and I mean to spend it in watching over the dear angel lamb. Mrs. Simpson of the ‘Green Man’ would be the better of it, but she sha’n’t have much of it – of that I am resolved.”

So Jasper presently left the village and began strolling in the direction where the river Earn flows between dark rocks until it loses itself in a narrow stream among the peaceful hills. In that direction lay The Priory, with its thick yew hedge and its shut-in appearance.

As Jasper continued her walk she knew nothing of the near neighborhood of The Priory, and no one in all the world was farther from her thoughts than the pretty, tall slip of a girl who lived there.

Now, it so happened that Sylvia was taking her walks abroad also in the hour of dusk. It was one of her peculiarities never to spend an hour that she could help indoors. She had to sleep indoors, and she had to take what food she could manage to secure also under the roof which she so hated; but, come rain or shine, storm or calm, every scrap of the rest of her time was spent wandering about. To the amount of fresh air which she breathed she owed her health and a good deal of her beauty. She was out now as usual, her big mastiff, Pilot, bearing her company. She was never afraid where she wandered with this protection, for Pilot was a dog of sagacity, and would soon make matters too hot for any one who meant harm to his young mistress.

Sylvia walked slowly. She was thinking hard. “What a delightful time she was having twenty-four hours ago! What a good dinner she was about to eat! How pleasant it was to wear Audrey’s pretty dress! How delightful to dance in the hall and talk to Arthur Jervice! She wondered what his sister with the curious name was like. How beautiful his face looked when he spoke of her!

“She must be lovely too,” thought Sylvia. “And so restful! There is nothing so cool and comfortable and peaceful as a mossy bank. I suppose she is called Moss because she comforts people.”

Sylvia hurried a little. Presently she stood and looked around her to be sure that no one was by. She then deliberately tightened her belt.

“It makes me feel the pangs less,” she thought. “Oh dear, how delightful, how happy those must be who are never, never hungry! Sometimes I can scarcely bear it; I almost feel that I could steal something to have a big, big meal. What a lot I ate last night, and how I longed to pocket even that great hunch of bread which was placed near my plate! But I did not dare. I thought my big meal would keep off my hunger to-day, but I believe it has made it worse than ever. I must have a straight talk with father to-night. I must tell him plainly that, however coarse the food, I must at least have enough of it. Oh dear, I ache – I ache for a good meal!”

The poor girl stood still. Footsteps were heard approaching. They were now close by. Pilot pricked up his ears and listened. A moment later Jasper appeared on the scene.

When she saw Sylvia she stopped, dropped a little courtesy, and said in a semi-familiar tone:

“And how are you this evening, Miss Leeson?”

Sylvia had not seen her as she approached. The girl started now and turned quickly round.

“You are Jasper?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking the air, miss. Have you any objection?”

“None, of course,” replied Sylvia.

Had there been light enough to see, Jasper would have noticed that the girl’s face took on a cheerful expression. She laid her hand on Pilot’s forehead. Pilot growled. Sylvia said to him:

“Be quiet; this is a friend.”

Pilot evidently understood the words. He wagged his bushy tail and looked in Jasper’s direction. Jasper came boldly up and laid her hand beside Sylvia’s on the dog’s forehead. The tail wagged more demonstratively.

“You have won him,” said Sylvia in a tone of delight. “Do you know, I am glad, although I cannot tell why I should be.”

“He looks as if he could be very formidable,” said Jasper. – “Ah, good dog – good dog! Noble creature! So I am your friend? Good dog!”

“But it must be rather unpleasant for visitors to come to call on you, Miss Sylvia, with such a dog as that loose about the place. Now, I, for instance – ”

“If you had a message from Evelyn for me,” said Sylvia, “you could call now with impunity. Strangers cannot; that is why father keeps Pilot. He is trained never to touch any one, but he is also trained to keep every one out. He does that in the best manner possible. He stands right in the person’s path and shows his big fangs and growls. Nobody would dream of going past him; but you would be safe.”

Jasper stood silent.

“It may be useful,” she repeated.

“You have not come now with a message from Evelyn?” said Sylvia, a pathetic tone in her voice.

“No, miss, I have not; but do you know, miss – do you know what has happened to me?”

“How should I?” replied Sylvia.

“I am turned out, miss – turned out by her ladyship – I who had a letter from Mrs. Wynford in Tasmania asking her ladyship to keep me always as my little Evelyn’s friend and nurse and guardian. Yes, Miss Sylvia, I am turned away as though I were dirt. I am turned away, miss, although it was only yesterday that her ladyship got the letter which the dying mother wrote. It is hard, is it not, Miss Leeson? It is cruel, is it not?”

“Hard and cruel!” echoed Sylvia. “It is worse. It is a horrible sin. I wonder you stand it!”

“Now, miss, for such a pretty young lady I wonder you have not more sense. Do you think I’d go if I could help it?”

“What does Evelyn say?” asked Sylvia, intensely excited.

“What does she say? Nothing. She is stunned, I take it; but she will wake up and know what it means. No chocolate, and no one to sleep in the little white bed by her side.”

“Oh, how she must enjoy her chocolate!” said poor Sylvia, a sigh of longing in her voice.

“I am grand at making it,” said Jasper. “I have spent my life in many out-of-the-way places. It was in Madrid I learnt to make chocolate; no one can excel me with it. I’d like well to make a cup for you.”

“And I’d like to drink it,” said Sylvia.

“As well as I can see you in this light,” continued Jasper, “you look as if a cup of my chocolate would do you good. Chocolate made all of milk, with plenty of bread and butter, is a meal which no one need despise. I say, miss, shall we go back to the “Green Man,” and shall you and me have a bit of supper together? You would not be too proud to take it with me although I am only my young lady’s maid?”

“I wish I could,” said Sylvia. There was a wild desire in her heart, a sort of passion of hunger. “But,” she continued, “I cannot; I must go home now.”

“Is your home near, miss?”

“Oh yes; it is just at the other side of that wall. But please do not talk of it – father hates people knowing. He likes us to live quite solitary.”

“And it is a big house. Yes, I can see that,” continued Jasper, peering through the trees.

Just then a young crescent moon showed its face, a bank of clouds swept away to the left, and Jasper could distinctly see the square outline of an ugly house. She saw something else also – the very white face of the hungry Sylvia, the look which was almost starvation in her eyes. Jasper was clever; she might not be highly educated in the ordinary sense, but she had been taught to use her brains, and she had excellent brains to use. Now, as she looked at the girl, an idea flashed through her mind.