"Oh! we'll be quite happy together," said Irene, with a careless nod; and then she went up to her room, opened the door gently, shut it quietly behind her, and shading the candle with one hand, went over to little Agnes's bed.
There was no Agnes there. But a huge hedgehog had curled itself up in a ball close to the pillow where the little delicate head had been pressed. Irene was afraid of no living creature, and she recognized the hedgehog at once. She took it up and laid it on the window-sill. Then she looked round her. Her face was white as death; her teeth chattered6. She suddenly left the room and went straight to Lucy's. She opened the door without knocking.
"Lucy!" she said.
"What is it?" said Lucy, who was brushing out her long fair hair.
"Did you put a hedgehog into Agnes's bed?"
"Certainly not," said Lucy.
"Well, some one did as a trick, and the child isn't there."
"The child isn't there? There's only one person who could do that sort of thing, and that is yourself, as you know very well," said Lucy. "But is the child nowhere in the room?"
"You come and look for her, will you?" said Irene. Her tone and manner had completely altered. She was forcing herself to use self-control. Had Fuzz and Buzz, and Thunder and Lightning, and the Stars been present at that moment, there is not the least doubt that Irene would have elected them to wreak7 their vengeance8 on Lucy; but she was keeping herself in for all she was worth at the present moment, for after all even Lucy did not much matter—it was little Agnes who mattered.
"Here's the hedgehog," said Irene when they entered her bedroom—"a great big one—and some one had put it into the little one's bed, and she's not there, and you know how timid she is. Where is she? You know I didn't do it. Is it likely I'd do it to one I love?"
"Oh! you're a sort of fairy—a changeling," said Lucy. "And you have done such things to other people. Why shouldn't you do it to her? Anyhow, who else in the house can be accused? Every one knows your character."
"Never mind about my character now. I know, I am positive, that you are at the bottom of this. But the thing is to find little Agnes. I must go at once to Mrs. Merriman."
"I wonder where she can be?" said Lucy, who had not expected for a moment that little Agnes would disappear. "She must have gone to one of the other girls' rooms. We will go to all the others and find out. Of course, I am sorry for you, Irene; but really you went too far when you made use of a hedgehog—such a horrid9, frightening thing."
"I don't want your help. I'll go myself," said Irene.
She pushed past Lucy, and going down the corridor, entered each room. Each girl was asked where little Agnes Frost was. Each girl replied that she did not know. It was Phyllis Flower, however, who, in excitement and pallor, started from an uneasy dream.
"Little Agnes?" she said. "But she can't have gone out!"
"It seems to me you know something about this. Will you help me to find her?" said Irene.
Then, all in a minute, for some reason which she could never define, little Phyllis sprang to her feet hastily, put on her clothes, and without even glancing at Lucy, took Irene's hand.
"We'll search the house first," she said.
"Then you don't think I did such a cruel thing?" said Irene.
"Oh, don't ask me! I mean—oh, no, no! But I'll help you to find her. I'll do my best—my very best."
The whole house was awakened10, and the alarm given. The Professor was not yet in bed. He was very much worried and annoyed. He directly told Irene that he believed she was guilty of giving her little companion a fright.
"You have done it so often before, you know," he said, "that people certainly do suspect you."
"Suspect me or not as you please," she answered, "but let us find little Agnes. The night is cold; there is sleet11 falling outside. It will turn to snow before morning. Where is the child? After all," she continued, speaking more like a grown woman than the wild sort of creature that she had been a few months ago, "she is under your charge, Professor Merriman, and you are bound to do your utmost to find her."
But nowhere in the house—not even in the cellars, which Lucy as a last resort suggested might possibly be her hiding-place—could little Agnes be found. At last a regular outdoor search was instituted. Lucy was now really frightened, although she would not own this feeling even to herself.
"Silly, tiresome12 child!" she kept muttering to herself.
As to Irene, not a single word passed her lips. Suddenly, in the midst of the searchers, she was missing. People wondered where she had gone to. Irene had rushed back to her own room, the room where she and little Agnes had been so happy together. She looked at the little white bed where they had lain in each other's arms. All her past, so cruel, so thoughtless, so selfish, was borne in upon her. She dropped on her knees, and in an agony of terror said aloud, "O God, help me to find her, and to be a good girl in future."
Then Irene felt a wonderful sense of calm. She went down again through the house. No one noticed her, for every one was in a great state of alarm. Those girls who were in bed were desired not to get up; but a good many had disobeyed orders, and Miss Archer13, Mademoiselle Omont (gesticulating wildly), Professor Merriman, his wife, the servants, and the older girls were all searching in vain for Agnes. They were calling her name, but no one thought of the bower14 at the far end of the shrubbery; for what child would be likely to take refuge there?
Irene, however, all of a sudden remembered it. She remembered the night long ago when she, a wild little untamed creature, had crept into the room where Rosamund slept, had forced her to come out with her, and they had spent the night together in the bower. She would go there now. She did not know what guided her footsteps, but she felt sure some one did.
Now, the shrubbery, a delightful15 place in warm weather, was damp and cold as ice at this time of the year. The leaves, now falling thickly from the trees, lay sodden16 on the ground. Sleet continued to fall heavily from the sky. All the seekers were chilled to the very bone, and the bower, so charming in summer, so perfect a resort, so happy a hiding-place, was now the very essence of desolation. But Irene cared nothing for that. She cared nothing for the fact that her thin shoes were soaked through and through, that her dress hung closely round her, that her hat was bent17 forward over her eyes. She only wanted to find little Agnes, and to have her love again. In the bower Irene did find the child crouched18 up in one corner, terrified, an almost unseeing expression in her eyes. Irene rushed to her with a glad cry.
"My darling! my darling! Oh, my own sweet little darling, come to your own Irene!"
But Agnes gave a shriek19 of terror when she saw her.
"No, no! Keep away! It's you who did it! You don't love me! No, no, I won't come to you!"
The piercing shrieks20 that came from the poor little girl's lips brought the rest of the party to the scene. When they appeared, Professor Merriman holding a lantern, they saw Agnes crouched in the farthest corner of the bower, her eyes semi-conscious, her face deadly white with terror, while Irene stood a little way off.
"Some one has turned her brain. Take her; do what you can with her," said Irene; and she walked away, not caring where she went.
They brought little Agnes back, and of course they sent for the doctor. The doctor stayed all night, for he said the child had received some very severe and terrible shock. Mrs. Merriman nursed her, and the next day, as soon as possible, Miss Frost returned.
But neither Miss Frost, nor the doctor, nor any one else could ease the terrors which had laid hold of the brain of little Agnes. She believed Miss Frost to be a sort of magnified Irene. The very name of Irene was enough to set her screaming again. She called Irene a fairy, a changeling, and nothing could soothe21 her or comfort her.
At last one day the doctor spoke22 to Mrs. Merriman.
"The case is quite a serious one," he said. "I cannot imagine what has happened to the child. You ought to find out who put that hedgehog in her bed. Hedgehogs are quite harmless in their way; but they would give a timid child a very nasty fright, which she evidently got."
"What we fear is that Irene did it. She has done all sorts of tricks of that kind before now. You remember how poor Miss Frost went to you on a certain occasion."
"Alas23! that is true. But compared to this, her sin against poor Miss Frost was innocence24 itself. Such a timid, gentle, confiding25 little creature as this! And then report says that she was so devoted26 to Irene, and that Irene was so changed."
Yes, indeed, Irene was changed, and the great change lay now in the fact that she did not say a word or admit her suffering to any one; but sat moody27 and silent, scarcely attending to her lessons, indifferent to bad marks, without the least vestige28 of spirit, with no desire to injure any one. Even Lucy could not provoke a retort from her lips. Whenever she was allowed to, she stole outside little Agnes's door to listen to her mutterings, and to wonder and wonder if the child was to die.
"If she dies I shall go mad," thought the miserable29 girl, "for she has not only been frightened, but she has been turned against me. Who could have done it?"
Miss Frost had returned; Rosamund had also come back (her father was better); but the key to the mystery was still missing. Irene declared positively30 to Rosamund that she had nothing to do with the fright that little Agnes had received; but no one could explain how the hedgehog had got into the child's bed. Some one suggested that it had crawled in by itself, but this was repudiated31 as absolutely impossible. Somebody had put it there, and no doubt with evil intent. Rosamund thought a good deal over the matter. She thought so much that at last she came to a certain conclusion.
Little Agnes still lay between life and death, and death came nearer and nearer to the little, weakened frame each moment and each hour. Then Rosamund determined32 to take the doctor into her confidence. She waylaid33 him as he came downstairs.
"Dr. Marshall," she said, "may I speak to you for a minute?"
"Certainly, Miss Cunliffe," he replied.
Rosamund took him into one of the sitting-rooms. She closed the door behind them and bolted it.
"Why do you do that?" he said.
"Because I am not sure of things. I want to take you into my confidence, and I don't want any one to hear."
"Well, Miss Cunliffe, you must be brief."
"First of all, may I ask you what you think of little Agnes? Is she in danger?"
"Undoubtedly34 she is in danger."
"Is she so much in danger that she is likely to die?"
"Unless she gets better soon, unless the strange pressure on her brain is removed, she will die," said the doctor. "The shock has been much more severe than any one could have believed possible, even from such an ugly thing occurring. But, be that as it may, she is in extreme danger of her life."
"Thank you," said Rosamund.
"Then you don't want to say anything more?"
"I don't think I do."
"I will come in again to-night. The child's case is interesting. She is a dear little creature."
The doctor went away, and Rosamund entered the schoolroom. The girls were trying to perform their usual tasks. Irene was bending over a history-book. There was such a sadness now pervading35 the house, such a necessary stillness, that all life seemed to have gone out of it. The wintry weather continued, and it was as gloomy outside as in. Miss Archer was in vain explaining a rather interesting point in English history, to which no one was attending much, when Rosamund entered the room. All the girls seemed to feel that she had news.
She had. She marched up to the top of the room and stood there. Irene only raised her head; but Lucy, who was pale and had black shadows under her eyes, and Phyllis Flower, who had certainly looked far from well for the last fortnight, glanced at her with considerable interest.
"I have something to say," said Rosamund.
There was a dead silence for a moment; then Miss Archer said, "I am giving my history lecture, my dear."
"You will postpone36 it, for life—human life—is more precious than facts in old history," said Rosamund.
"Certainly, my dear," said Miss Archer in quite a meek37 voice; and she sat down and prepared to listen with as much interest as the others.
"It is this," said Rosamund. "Little Agnes Frost—I have just seen the doctor—is most dangerously ill." Phyllis Flower gave a gasp38. "I won't go into the particulars of her illness; but the doctor says that unless a certain load of terror can be immediately removed from her mind she will die. Yes, she will die. Now, girls, it is quite plain to me, as it is doubtless to all of you, that a most cruel practical joke was played on little Agnes. Some people can stand practical jokes; some people cannot. But those who are cruel enough to exercise them upon little children are really too contemptible39 even to be spoken about. I wish this girl or that girl joy who knows that she may be the cause of the death of so sweet a child as Agnes Frost."
Irene lifted a face of agony. She struggled to speak, but no words came.
"You most of you think," continued Rosamund, who had watched Irene, and saw the look on her face, "that my friend Irene Ashleigh is the guilty person; but I am quite as certain as I am standing40 here that she is not. I have watched Irene for some time; and although she did all kinds of naughty things—very naughty things—months ago, she has abstained41 from anything of the kind for some time. In short, I believe her to be innocent, and I am going to ask her a direct question to that effect. Now, I shall believe her word, for with all her sins she never told a lie yet. Irene, were you the cause of Agnes Frost's terrible shock?"
"I was not," said Irene stoutly42. She stood up as she spoke, and Rosamund went up and took her hand.
"Then some one else has done it. I believe Irene's word."
"And so do I," said Laura Everett.
"And so do I," said Annie Millar.
"And I also," exclaimed Agnes Sparkes.
But Phyllis Flower and Lucy Merriman were silent.
"Phyllis, what is your opinion?" said Rosamund suddenly. "Don't hesitate now. If you or any one else in this school has been tempted43 to commit a dastardly and wicked deed, don't let the thought that you may have caused a child to die rest on your conscience for all your days. You will be miserable. Had you or had you not anything to do with the fright which little Agnes received?"
"Oh!" said Phyllis; and she suddenly left her seat and fell on her knees. She covered her face with her hands; she swayed backwards44 and forwards. "Oh, I know—I know! I can't help myself. I did it."
"You did it—you?" said Rosamund sternly.
"Phyllis!" cried Lucy.
"Phyllis, you must speak up. The child's life is at stake. You must speak out and tell the truth."
"Then I will," said Lucy in a defiant45 tone. "I didn't know you were such a coward, Phyllis."
"Yes, I was a coward," said Phyllis. "I will tell my part of it. I did want a week in London, and I was tempted, and I put the hedgehog into Agnes's bed."
"You yourself did that? You did that yourself—alone?"
"That is all I am going to tell."
"Then I will tell the rest," exclaimed Lucy. "I made her do it. I was jealous of you, Rosamund, and I always hated you, and I was even more jealous of that horrid Irene and her love for Agnes. I only thought that I would punish her and you by taking Agnes away from her, and I think I have succeeded; but I never thought it would make Agnes ill. I am very, very, very sorry for that;" and, to the surprise of everybody, Lucy, the proud, the haughty46, the reserved, burst into tears.
No one took much notice of her tears, for all eyes were fixed47 on Irene and the strange look which was filling her face. After a pause she went straight up to Lucy and took her hand.
"Lucy, will you come with me upstairs?"
"What do you want me to do?" said Lucy, in great astonishment48.
"I want you to come with me, that is all."
"But why?"
"If you are at all sorry, will you come? There isn't a minute to lose."
"Yes, go with her—go for heaven's sake!" said Rosamund; and Lucy found herself going.
They went up the softly carpeted stairs and down the silent corridor, and then the two girls paused before a door which was partly ajar. The room was darkened, and Miss Frost was sitting by a little bed, and a little voice kept on crying suddenly, "Oh, there never was any Irene, there never was any Irene, and I loved her so! I loved her so! But she was a fairy, and the fairies took her back again, and—and—oh, I want to die! I want to die!"
The little hot hands were stretched outside the bedclothes, the beautiful dark eyes were open wide, and just at that moment Irene, very pale, still holding Lucy's hand, entered the room. Miss Frost stood up in speechless horror.
"Do sit down again, Miss Frost," said Irene; and she went straight up to little Agnes, who, to the astonishment of every one, no longer shrank from her, but, on the contrary, allowed her to hold one of her hands. Irene then turned to Lucy.
"Lucy," she said, "speak the truth now this minute, and I will forgive you."
"It was I who did it," said Lucy. "Go to sleep, and forget all about it. Irene isn't a changeling at all, and she never had anything to do with the fairies. I was jealous because you loved her and only her, and I wanted you to hate her, and I got Phyllis Flower to help me, and we put the hedgehog into your bed; but we didn't guess—we couldn't guess—that it would make you so ill."
Little Agnes looked with wide eyes at the speaker.
"Go away now," said Irene. "I think she understands. You go away also, Frosty. Please, please go!"
Miss Frost and Lucy found themselves impelled49 to leave the room, while Irene lay down on the bed beside the little girl, and taking both her hands, held them fast and whispered softly in the little ear:
"I am no changeling, but your own Irene, and I would rather die than injure one hair of your head. Come close, darling; come close. It wasn't I, but another, and I am no changeling."
"Oh, my own Irene! My own, own Irene!" whispered the little voice; and then it grew fainter, and there came a smile on the tiny face, and in a few minutes' time the tired bright eyes closed, and the child slept.
When the doctor came that evening little Agnes was still sleeping, and Irene was still holding her hands. The fever was going down moment by moment. The doctor came in and said "Hush50!" and whispered to Irene that she must on no account stir. She must be close to little Agnes, when she woke, and he himself would stay in the room, for the child would be very weak; but doubtless the fever would have left her. He was much puzzled to account for the change; but Rosamund was the one to enlighten him. She just told him that some very mischievous51 girls had played a trick, but she mentioned no names. For Lucy seemed really broken-hearted; and as to Phyllis Flower, she had cried so hard that her eyes were scarcely visible.
About midnight little Agnes woke in her right mind. She saw Irene, and lifting a tiny white hand, she stroked her cheek.
"I have had a very bad dream; but I don't seem to remember anything," she said.
"Only that you are with me," said Irene; "and you will be with me all my life—won't you, little darling?"
By slow degrees little Agnes got well, and when she was well enough she and Irene and Rosamund left the school; and from that day, as far as I can tell, Irene has been a changed character: thoughtful though spirited, beautiful, talented, but with much consideration for others, and the comfort and joy of her mother's heart. But the one she loves best on earth is the one whom she calls her own little Agnes.
THE END.
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1
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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vestige
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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waylaid
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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abstained
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| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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48
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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49
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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51
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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