Girls New and Old

"This hole looks rather suspicious," said Cecil. "Matilda, will you kindly come forward, and let me see if you are the right height to use such a peep-hole with advantage?"

"I won't! I daren't!" said Matilda. "I hate you, Cecil."

"Well," said Cecil, "you have only one thing to do. I know by your face that you are guilty. I was not, of course, at all certain when we started out on our walk this afternoon, but now I know. If you refuse to confess, I will go to Miss Forester and tell her what I suspect."

"A nice life you will have at Redgarth, if you begin by telling tales!" said Matilda, in faltering tones.

"I don't care a bit about that. I'm not going to have that old bugbear cast up against me; it will not prevent me on this occasion from doing my duty. You have just confessed that Molly told you certain matters which gave you the clew to Kate's past. Had you not better tell me everything at once?"

"Oh, what a fearful, fearful girl you are!" sobbed Matilda. "Oh, I won't stay another day at Redgarth!"

"If you confess the simple truth," repeated Cecil, "I will do my utmost to shield you. I mean I will do all in my power to prevent the school generally, and the teachers, knowing of your baseness. Of course, Kate and Molly must know directly. Now, you can choose."

Matilda sat huddled up against the wall. It would have been difficult to see a more abject figure than hers.

"Molly told me," she began at last. "I asked her if Kate – "

"Wait a moment," said Cecil suddenly. "I have changed my mind about hearing you alone. Molly is at home; she is in her room. You shall come to her at once; you shall tell me in her presence exactly what occurred."

"I won't! you can't force me!" cried Matilda.

At this moment the handle of the summerhouse door was forcibly turned from without.

"Who has locked the door?" cried Miss Leicester's voice.

"That is right," said Cecil, with a sigh of relief. "Miss Leicester will soon put things straight. Wait one moment, Miss Leicester, and I will let you in."

"Oh, don't, I beg of you, betray me to Miss Leicester!" cried Matilda.

"Will you come to Molly at once, then?"

"I will; anything rather than that Miss Leicester should know."

"All right; if you even attempt to escape, I will repeat to Miss Leicester all that I have said to you."

As Cecil said these last words, she turned the key in the door, opened it wide, and stood before her astonished principal.

"My dear," said that good lady, "why did you lock the door?"

"I was having a very important talk with Matilda," said Cecil.

"But to lock the door! It is not the custom, Cecil."

"I am sorry; I won't do it again," said Cecil.

"Can you not give me your reason?"

"I am dreadfully sorry, I cannot."

Miss Leicester looked from one girl to the other: there was a look in Cecil's eyes, an expression about Matilda's mouth, which made her feel that the solution of a very unpleasant mystery was about to be made.

"Don't lock the summerhouse again, dear," she said, in a kindly voice to her pupil. She then walked past the two girls to fetch her tennis bat, which was hanging on the wall.

"Come, Matilda," said Cecil. She held out her hand as she spoke; Matilda took it grudgingly.

On the way to the playground, she had been glad enough to show all the world that she was one of Cecil Ross' friends; on her return, she would have been only too thankful to be miles away from this very determined young person. But in vain did she look from right to left for a loophole to escape. After a few minutes' quick walking, the two girls found themselves at St. Dorothy's; a moment later they stood outside Molly Lavender's door. Cecil knocked softly.

"Come in," called Molly's voice.

Her headache had grown so bad that she had been forced to lie down, but she started upright when she saw who was following Cecil into the room.

"I am sorry to disturb you," said Cecil; "but I think it is worth while, for the matter I have come about is somewhat important. Matilda wants to say something to you, Molly."

"What?" asked Molly. "Won't you sit down, Matilda? How do you do?"

Matilda flopped down on the nearest chair. She took off her hat, and wiped the moisture from her hot forehead.

"This is a very disagreeable business," she said, "and I can't imagine what Cecil Ross is about."

"Yes, you know perfectly well," said Cecil. "The fact is this, Molly: I had a walk with Matilda this afternoon. We sat in the summerhouse; we spoke of you and Kate O'Connor. While we were there I told Matilda that some of the mischievous reports with regard to poor Kate had been traced to her. In reply, she said that she had only circulated what you yourself had told her."

"What I told her?" repeated Molly, her eyes and cheeks alike flaming.

"Yes; and I thought the matter so important that I insisted on her coming here to tell her story to you direct."

"But I never told you anything, Matilda," said Molly.

"Yes, you did," said Matilda, driven to bay; "but I won't repeat it. I won't say anything unless – unless you, Cecil, promise."

"Oh, I'll promise! and so will Molly," said Cecil, in a somewhat careless and very scornful tone.

"What are we to promise?" said Molly.

"Matilda does not want to get into trouble with the authorities," said Cecil. "We can shield her from that, I suppose – that is, if she tells us the whole truth without any reservation."

Molly put her hand to her brow.

"I am quite bewildered," she said. "I never told you anything, Matilda. Oh, I must leave the matter in your hands, Cecil! Promise her anything, only get her to tell me the truth now."

"Well," said Matilda, "don't you remember one day at lecture when I spoke to you? You hated my doing so, I know."

"Of course I did," said Molly.

"Well, I spoke to you about Kate."

"I begin to remember," said Molly. "I was glad, for you spoke kindly of her."

"I asked you," continued Matilda, "if you did not consider Kate out of the common. I said that very likely she was one of those brave girls who had known poverty and had risen above it. I asked you if you did not think her one of nature's ladies. You replied that every word I said was the perfect truth. I went on to ask you: 'Has she not known poverty and risen above it?' You replied: 'Yes, she has had a noble life.'"

"And is that all?" said Molly, springing from her sofa and beginning to pace the room. "Oh, how mean, how mean you are! You drew me out on purpose. I only spoke in a general way. Oh, Matilda, how could you be so frightfully underhand?"

"That was not the way you got your information," said Cecil, in her calm, clear voice. "What about the little hole at the back of the summerhouse, which I proved by measurement to be exactly on a level with your ear?"

Matilda colored crimson.

"You must tell everything," continued Cecil, "or I shall take this story straight to Miss Forester."

"If I must, I must; after all, why should I care what girls like you think about me? I – " She paused.

"Go on," said Cecil; "we're both listening."

"There is not much in it, after all. What an awful fuss you do make! I was at the back of the summerhouse, tying up my shoe. I heard Kate and Molly talking; the hole in the wood was quite handy. I did listen for a bit, I heard something."

"And you questioned Molly on purpose," said Cecil; "in order to give color to the horrid story which you meant to tell."

"The fact is, I hated you, Molly Lavender, from the first," said Matilda. "You snubbed me and were disagreeable; I thought I'd have my revenge, that's all. I suppose I may go now?"

"Not a bit of it," said Cecil. "Before you leave this room, you have got to write down every word you have just told me. Here is paper; here are pens and ink; seat yourself; write away."

"Oh, but I really don't want to put the thing on paper!"

"All right; then Miss Forester shall hear this little story."

"Before I write anything," said Matilda, "I must know to whom my confession is to be repeated?"

Cecil spoke without hesitation.

"Kate O'Connor must know first of all," she said; "also Hester Temple. I have given you my word that what we say shall not reach any of the authorities, but Molly and Hester and Kate and I must have a consultation with regard to whether the other girls in the school are to know the truth or not. Now, sit down; write, and be quick about it."

The miserable Matilda saw no help for it. Cecil was a great deal too strong for her in every sense of the word.

CHAPTER XV.

THOSE HIGH ROCKS

AT last the unpleasant task was over, and Matilda, vowing vengeance against everyone, returned to Dacre House. When they were alone, Cecil and Molly looked at each other.

"How splendid you are, Cecil!" said Molly. "How can I ever thank you? I can scarcely tell you what a load you have lifted from my mind."

"You must thank Jimmy, then," said Cecil. "I should never have discovered the truth but for him."

"Your brother Jimmy?"

"Yes."

Molly raised her eyebrows.

"Really, you are quite enigmatical," she said. "How can Jimmy, who is far away, have anything to do with the matter?"

"He is our detective," said Cecil, who was feeling so happy that she felt inclined to skip. "I put the case before him, mentioning no names. The wicked boy had the audacity to reply on a post card. The words of the oracle were as follows: 'Look out for eavesdroppers.' That little sentence gave me the clew; I took Matilda to the summerhouse, began to talk over the occurrence, told her with all the emphasis I could that you and Kate had sat together on the very bench where she and I were then resting, when Kate made her confidence to you. Matilda, fortunately for the non-success of her wicked plans, has a tell-tale face. I soon got her into the center of a circle, and hedged her in. Oh, it was a horrid business! How thankful I am that it is over!"

"I feel my heart as light as a feather once again," said Molly. "Let us go at once to find Kate; she is sure to be returning from her botany expedition by now. Cecil, you don't know what Kate was before this cloud came over her; she was the life of the whole house. Oh, you will love her as much as I do!"

"I'm quite sure I shall," answered Cecil. "I like her immensely already. When I have forgiven her for doubting you, I dare say I shall see that she is just as charming as you have described her."

"You have cured my headache," said Molly. "I can't stay indoors any longer; let us go and meet Kate and the others."

The girls were soon out of doors. The day was a crisp one in late October. There was a feeling of coming winter in the air, but all nature was still peaceful and smiling. The trees still wore their autumn dress; grand crimson and yellow robes decked the landscape.

Molly and Cecil walked some little distance. They soon found themselves in the country. Suddenly Molly uttered an exclamation. Kate and her companions were coming slowly to meet them.

"How tired Kitty looks!" said Molly. "Why, she quite lags behind the others. I wonder what is the matter."

"Run up to her with that paper in your hand and tell her everything," said Cecil. "Get her to walk behind with you; your news will soon revive her. Run at once, Molly; I will undertake to manage the other girls."

Molly set wings to her feet. She soon joined the botanists, who stopped and began to talk eagerly.

"I hope you've had success," said Molly. "Why, what's the matter, Kate?"

"Nothing," said Kate abruptly.

Her face was very pale; there were great black shadows under her eyes.

"We can't think what's the matter with her," said Lucy Rae, one of the botanists. "She was as lively as the best of us until we were coming home."

"I have a headache; it will soon pass off," said Kate. "Don't take any notice of me; I shall soon be quite my ordinary self."

"I want to say something to you, Kate," said Molly suddenly.

Kate looked at her with irritation.

"I am not in the mood to discuss things," she said; "it is quite true that I have a bad headache."

"I won't worry you, dear," said Molly, in her gentlest tones. "Let us walk slowly behind the others."

Kate opened her lips to protest.

Then she changed her mind. She raised her hand to her head, brushing it across her forehead in a bewildered manner. Cecil drew the other girls on, and Molly and Kate were alone.

"Kate," said Molly, the instant this was the case, "I am so happy I can scarcely speak rationally. The load is lifted from my mind. I have found out everything. You would not believe me yesterday when I told you that I never betrayed our confidence."

"I don't remember about yesterday," said Kate.

She turned round and gazed full at Molly. Molly stepped back and stared at her in astonishment.

"You don't remember what you said to me?" she exclaimed.

"No; I can't remember anything. Oh, how my head aches! I feel sick and giddy."

"Lean on me, Kate. What is the matter with you? You look dreadfully ill. Has anything happened? Oh, I thought you'd be so happy when I told you!"

"Don't tell me anything just now, Molly. The fact is, I can't listen. Oh, my head, my head!"

"But just let me say this much. I'm dreadfully sorry you've a headache, but just listen to this much. Cecil has discovered everything. Matilda was at the bottom of the whole matter."

"Matilda!" repeated Kate. She looked quite dazed. "What about her?"

"Kate, she listened behind the summerhouse; she overheard all our conversation. There was a hole in the wood; she listened through that hole. She heard all your story, all about your grandfather and – Kitty, darling, what is the matter? How ghastly you look! Let me help you across the road to this bench. Sit down; lean against me."

There was a stone bench at the opposite side of the road. Molly led Kate to it. She sank down, sick and trembling.

"I'm dreadfully sorry you've such a frightful headache," continued Molly; "but are you not glad?"

"To tell you the truth, Molly," replied Kate, "I don't know what you are talking about. You want to tell me something, but I want to tell you something else, far, far more badly. Something has happened, Molly, and I will tell you while I remember it. The feeling in my head is so dreadful that I don't believe I shall be able to remember anything long. Do you see these ferns in my hand – this sort; it is very rare. I wanted to get it, I was determined to get it. It grows high on the rocks by the shepherd's meadow. I would climb up. The other girls had left me, they were botanizing on their own account a little way off. I gathered some specimens; then I stretched out my hand for a very fine frond, I – I lost my balance – I fell on my head. I didn't remember anything for a bit. I suppose I was stunned. After a time I got better. I thought the dreadful pain and giddiness would pass off. I managed to walk toward the other girls. I determined to tell them nothing. But, oh, Molly, I feel so sick now, so dreadfully ill! Don't talk to me just now, for I really can't listen. It worries me even to see you so earnest and excited. May I lean on you? Can you help me to get home?"

"Yes," said Molly, "I'll do all in the world I can for you, but you must not try to walk with only my help. Just rest where you are, Kitty; lean back, close your eyes. I'll run after Cecil and call her."

"No, don't! I can't bear the others to know. I did wrong when I climbed those high rocks; I broke one of Miss Forester's rules. She makes it a condition that we shall do nothing dangerous. The others mustn't know. If only I can manage to get home and go to bed, I shall be all right to-morrow. Don't speak to me at all for a minute."

As Kate said these last words, she leaned up against the stone wall by which the bench stood, and closed her eyes. After a time she grew better: the terrible giddiness and acute pain passed; she was able to take Molly's arm and go slowly in the direction of Redgarth.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE PROMISE IN THE CATHEDRAL

THERE was consternation at St. Dorothy's: Kate O'Connor was ill; on her arrival home, she was almost unconscious. The doctor was hastily summoned; she was ordered to bed. Miss Leicester had a room made up in the quietest part of the house; she was moved there, and Molly begged hard to be allowed to nurse her. At first everyone hoped that a night's rest would put her right, but the next day the doctor said something about concussion of the brain. He said absolute quiet was necessary; he would not even allow her to be moved to the sanatorium. A trained nurse was sent for, and the girls began to walk about the house with hushed steps and pale, anxious faces.

"The worst of it all is," said Molly to Hester, "that if she thinks at all, poor Kate still believes that I have been unfaithful to her."

"Oh, she does not think of anything specially now," said Hester. "When she is well enough, you must tell her; you must not fret, Molly."

"I can't help it," answered Molly. "I loved Kate very, very dearly, and now she is ill, very ill; and her last thought of all must have been that I was unworthy of her friendship."

"Well, it is a good thing that Cecil and I know the truth now," said Hester, in a cheerful tone. "What Kate wants is rest; she will be herself in a few days, I make not the slightest doubt; then we'll manage to tell what a stanch, little thing you are, Molly. By the way, I do think Cecil a splendid girl. How cleverly she got that horrid Matilda to own up to her sneaking, detestable, sly ways! Certainly Cecil has done Matilda a lot of good; she has taken all the conceit out of her. I only do wish something would induce her to leave the school. Fancy a girl like that coming to St. Dorothy's! If Miss Leicester really knew what sort of girl she is, I think she would ask Miss Forester not to admit her."

At that moment Miss Leicester came into the room where the two girls were talking.

"How is Kate now?" said Hester, going up at once to the principal.

Miss Leicester's face was pale and grave.

"She is very ill," she answered.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Molly, who felt her heart beating with a quick, nameless sort of dread. "Do you mean that – that Kate is in danger?"

"She is very ill," repeated Miss Leicester. "Yes, I suppose there is danger; I fear there is no doubt about it. The doctor has just left; she is unconscious. She must have had a very bad fall. Molly, my dear, she spoke to you about it: did she give you any idea of the height from which she fell? None of the other girls are able to give us any information."

"She only said that she had fallen," answered Molly, "and that the fall stunned her. She hoped that she would be all right after a little, and did not wish the others to know."

"I am not surprised at that," replied Miss Leicester; "she disobeyed a very strict rule. That is the last sort of thing I should have expected from Kate."

"Oh, don't be angry with her now!" said Molly, tears filling her brown eyes.

"No, poor dear child!" said Miss Leicester. "The whole thing is very miserable, and to complicate matters, Nurse Wilkins has been taken ill herself, and has been obliged to leave suddenly. We hope to get another nurse by this evening, for the doctor has telegraphed to London, but in the meantime – "

"Oh, let me go to her!" cried Molly.

"Perhaps you may help a little presently, Molly," said Miss Leicester, looking at her earnestly. "I have noticed that you have a very gentle way, dear; but at present Cecil is with her."

"Cecil!" exclaimed both girls.

"Yes; it seems that Cecil knows a good deal about illness; she nursed her mother through a very long illness. She came to the door to inquire for Kate just when poor Nurse Wilkins had to leave. She came in as if there were nothing unusual the matter, and took her place by Kate's side. Kate was moving her hands restlessly and plucking at the bed-clothes, which is such a bad sign in illness, and Cecil took both her hands and held them, and then she grew quiet. Perhaps you may help after a little, Molly; but I should be sorry to disturb such an excellent nurse as Cecil at present."

Miss Leicester left the room, and Molly, sinking down on the nearest chair, burst into tears.

"If Kate dies I shall never feel happy again," she said, with a sob.

"But she won't die," said Hester; "she's a great deal too strong and young. Why," – Hester wore a troubled look, – "she's only just seventeen. Girls of seventeen don't die merely from a fall. She's bad, but she'll soon be better. Don't cry, Molly!"

"Girls often die," cried Molly. "Oh, Hester! can nothing be done to save her? I wonder if Miss Forester knows how bad she really is."

Hester went up to one of the windows and began to drum her fingers on the glass.

"It's all wretched," continued Molly. "I can't tell you what I feel, Hetty. If only Miss Leicester would let me help in any way, I should not feel so dreadful. I feel, somehow or other, as if I were responsible for Kate's illness."

"Oh, now you are getting horridly morbid!" said Hester. "What had you to do with it?"

"Nothing in one way, of course; but if all this had not happened, Kate would have gone out with me, and not with the other girls, and I would not have let her climb up that awful rock just to get those miserable ferns. Oh, dear! I thought I should be so happy at St. Dorothy's, and now this seems to cast a blank over everything."

"The worst of it is," said Hester, after a pause, "that even if Kate does get well – I don't doubt that for a minute – even if she does get well, she won't be allowed to study for a good while, and then she'll lose her scholarship. I know she has not a great deal of money. She was quite certain of getting the scholarship, and after that, of course, she could, by and by, take a good position as a teacher. After a brain attack of this sort, she won't be allowed to study for some time. Of course one ought not to think of that just now, but in Kate's position, where there is not much money, it is, of course, important."

"Yes," said Molly. "I wish I were with her," she added. "One can scarcely think of examinations at the present moment, can one, Hester? Oh dear; oh, dear! I think I'll just creep upstairs and see if I can help Cecil in any way."

Hester said nothing, and Molly left the room.

She went upstairs, turned down a long passage, and at last paused before a door, over which a heavy curtain had been hung. She turned the handle very softly, and entered the room. All the blinds were down; the light was shaded. At first, Molly could hardly see; then she noticed Cecil's familiar figure seated by the head of the bed. The figure on the bed was lying straight and still; there was no movement or sound of any sort. Kate looked at that moment as if she were dead.

Molly crept up close to the bed; she did not speak at all, nor did Cecil. Presently Cecil stretched out her hand and touched Molly softly on the arm. Molly knelt down close to Cecil. Cecil began to stroke her hair, and, in some inexplicable way, the younger girl felt soothed and comforted by the gentle, firm touch. Kate lay without movement; she scarcely seemed to breathe.

"Is she dead?" asked Molly, in a tremulous whisper.

"No," answered Cecil; "no – not yet."

"Cecil, she can't recover! no one could look as dreadful as that – as still – as – as like marble and recover."

"Don't talk," answered Cecil; "she may hear us."

At that moment the room door was opened, and Dr. Groves, the clever doctor who had undertaken the case, came in; he was accompanied not only by Miss Leicester, but Miss Forester. Miss Forester gave a glance of surprise at Molly and Cecil, and then turned to Miss Leicester.

"I thought you had got a trained nurse," she said.

"Yes," replied Miss Leicester, "but Nurse Wilkins was suddenly taken ill. Cecil offered to help me until I could get someone from town. I did not know that you were here, Molly Lavender."

Molly looked up with eyes of entreaty.

"Let me stay," she said. "I promise to be perfectly quiet, and to do exactly what I am told."

"Yes, let her stay," said the doctor. "There is scarcely any nursing required at present; the patient only requires watching. You may make a little noise, if you like, girls. I don't like this long-continued insensibility. I shall be glad of anything to arouse my patient."