Part 14 (2/2)
Marion made no reply, her lips seemed glued together, and Miss Christine continued:--
”I was surprised that Georgie should have played the Polonaise. I rarely speak of the faults of one girl to another, and perhaps I ought not now, but I must say, I did not think I had a scholar who would be so unkind as to choose a piece she knew one of her companions had chosen.”
The rebuke intended for Georgie struck directly home to Marion. She had been struggling with herself ever since Miss Christine had stood there, knowing that she ought, before the evening was over, to tell her teacher the unworthy part she had acted; now every sense of honor and justice compelled her to do so. But directly beside her stood M. Beranger, and her pride rebelled at being again disgraced in his eyes, for his kindness and forbearance, ever since their first lesson, had won for him her sincere esteem and regard. The struggle was severe, but momentary, for raising her eyes to Miss Christine, she said:--
”It was a very contemptible thing, Miss Christine; nothing but an intense desire for revenge could have induced me to select a piece I knew Georgie had previously chosen.”
”You, Marion!” exclaimed Miss Christine; nothing else, just that exclamation; but the tone of her voice cut Marion more deeply than any harsh rebuke could have done.
”Yes, Miss Christine, I chose it, knowing that Georgie had practised it on purpose to play it to-night. I thought as I was to play first I should be able to disconcert her. I am heartily ashamed of myself; my disgrace was nothing but what I deserved.”
For a moment there was silence. Miss Christine was shocked to find Marion could have done such a thing. Sarcastic, haughty, disagreeable to her companions in many ways, she had known her to be, but mean never; she could not understand it.
If she had known the disgraceful part Georgie had really taken in the affair; if she had heard of the eaves-dropping of which she had been guilty in the school-room, to punish which had been quite as great an inducement for Marion's conduct as a desire for revenge, she would have felt very differently; but of that Marion said nothing. But Miss Christine was too kind-hearted, and understood her pupil too well to speak sternly to her; besides, she knew it must have cost Marion a severe struggle to exonerate Georgie at the expense of herself, and doubly so in the presence of M. Beranger. In fact, when the first shock of surprise had pa.s.sed off, she felt that the n.o.bleness of Marion's expiation had atoned for her fault, and she could not help thinking that there were many girls in the school who would have held their tongues, and been only too glad to thrust the blame on to one who was so intensely disagreeable to them.
These thoughts flashed through Miss Christine's mind in a moment, and holding out her hand, she said in her kindest tones;--
”My dear Marion, I am sure this is the last time you will ever do anything so unworthy of yourself.”
Marion's only reply was a warm pressure of that dear hand, as she turned and left the room.
”Do you not judge Mlle. Berkley too hasteelie?” whispered M. Beranger.
”There is something behind all this, which you do not yet perceive. I feel verie sure that Mees Georgie do know more tan she do tell.”
CHAPTER XII.
SARAH BROWN SPEAKS HER MIND.
”Now where do you suppose they came from, Marion? I don't know of any one round here who has a conservatory; they must have come from Springfield. Who could have sent them?” asked Sarah Brown.
”I'm sure I don't know; aren't they lovely?” replied Marion; ”but here comes Miss Christine,--let's ask her. Miss Christine,” she said, turning round quickly as her teacher entered the room, ”who sent you these lovely flowers yesterday?”
Miss Christine started at the abrupt, point-blank question, and looked a trifle confused:--
”Why, really, Marion, I--that is,--M. Beranger sent them here; but, as the box had no address, I presume they were for the benefit of the whole school. I certainly did not intend to monopolize them.”
”No, of course you didn't, you dear old Christian!” exclaimed Marion with the affectionate familiarity she often used towards her teacher; ”of course you didn't; and as they were meant for all of us, you won't mind it a bit if I appropriate this little sprig of geranium, and do just as I've a mind to with it, now will you?”
”No, I don't think I could refuse that, although it does seem a pity to take it out of water. Why, Marion, what are you going to do with it?--put it in my hair! No, no, it's too pretty, and it will wither in such a little while; do take it out!”
”No, I shan't do any such a thing. You gave it to me to do just what I chose with it, and I _choose_ to have it in your hair; so you must not take it out.”
”No, Miss Christine, don't!” exclaimed Sarah Brown. ”You ought to keep it in, even if it's only to please Marion, for most girls would have stuck it in their own heads; but she never _says_ anything or _does_ anything like most girls.”
”Hold your tongue, Sarah!” peremptorily replied Marion; ”you don't know what you're talking about.”
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