Part 13 (1/2)

Harriet looked really frightened.

”You'll not tell Emma, then? You promise?”

I nodded. ”I promise.”

”Well, then, it was only one day--papa was talking about somebody going to South America, and I said that was where your papa and mamma had gone, and papa asked your name, and then he said he had seen your papa at the bank, and it was a pity he hadn't been content to stay there. It was such a bad climate where he'd gone--lots of people got ill and died there, unless they were rich enough to live out of the town, and he didn't suppose any one who'd only been a clerk in the bank here would be that. And Emma said, couldn't your papa and mamma come back if they got ill, and he said if they waited till then it would be rather too late.

There's some fever people get there, that comes all of a sudden. And besides that, your papa must have promised he'd stay two years--they always do.”

As she went on, my heart fell lower and lower--for a moment or two I could not speak. All sorts of dreadful fears and imaginings began to fill my mind; perhaps my parents had already got that terrible illness Harriet spoke of, perhaps one or both of them had already died. I could have screamed aloud. I felt I could not bear it--I must write to mamma a letter that n.o.body should read. I must see somebody who would tell me the truth--Haddie, perhaps, knew more than I did. If I could go to him!

But I had no money and no idea of the way, and Miss Aspinall would never, _never_ let me even write to ask him. Besides, I was in disgrace, very likely they would not believe me if I told them why I was so miserable; they had already said I told stories, and then I must not get Harriet into trouble.

What _should_ I do? If only Miss Fenmore had still been there, I felt she would have been sorry for me, but there was n.o.body--_n.o.body_.

I turned my face away from my little companion, and buried it in the pillow. Harriet grew frightened.

”What are you doing, Gerry?” she said. ”Why don't you speak? Are you going to sleep or are you crying? Very likely your papa and mamma won't get that illness. I wish I hadn't told you.”

”Never mind,” I said. ”I'm going to sleep.”

”And you won't tell Emma?” Harriet repeated.

”Of course not--don't you believe my word? Do you too think that I tell stories?”

I tried to get rid of my misery by letting myself grow angry.

”You're very cross,” said Harriet; but all the same I think she understood me better than she could express, for she kissed me and said, ”Do go to sleep--don't be so unhappy.”

CHAPTER IX.

OUT IN THE RAIN.

It would be an exaggeration to say that I did not sleep that night.

Children often sleep very heavily when they are specially unhappy, and I was unhappy enough, even before Harriet's telling me what she had heard.

But though I did sleep, I shall never forget that night. My dreams were so miserable, and when I awoke--very early in the morning--I could scarcely separate them from real things. It was actually not so bad when I was quite awake, for then I set myself thoroughly to think it all over.

I could not bear it--I could not go on without knowing if it was true about father and mamma. I could not bear my life at school, if the looking forward to being with them again, before _very_ long, was to be taken from me. I must write a letter to mamma that no one would see; but first--yes, first I must know how much was true. Whom could I ask?

Haddie? Perhaps he knew no more than I did, and it was just as difficult to write to him as to mamma. Then suddenly another thought struck me--Mrs. Selwood, old Mrs. Selwood, if I could but see her. Perhaps if I wrote to her she would come to see me; mamma always said she was very kind, though I know she did not care much for children, especially little girls. Still I thought I would try, though it would be difficult, for I should not like Miss Ledbury to know I had written to Mrs. Selwood secretly. She would be so angry, and I did not want to make Miss Ledbury angry. She was much nicer than the others. Once or twice the idea came to me of going straight to her and telling her how miserable I was, but that would bring in Harriet, and oh, how furious the other governesses would be! No, I would try to write to Mrs. Selwood--only, I did not know her address. I only knew the name of her house--Fernley--that would not be enough, at least I feared not. I would try to find out; perhaps Harriet could ask some one when she went home.

My spirits rose a little with all this planning. I am afraid that the life I led was beginning to make me unchildlike and concealed in my ways. I enjoyed the feeling of having a secret and, so to say, outwitting my teachers, particularly Miss Broom. So, though I was looking pale and my eyes were still very swollen, I think Harriet was surprised, and certainly very glad, to find that I was not very miserable or upset.

A message was sent up to say I was to go down to breakfast with the others. And after prayers and breakfast were over I went into the schoolroom as usual.

That morning did not pa.s.s badly; it happened to be a day for lessons I got on well with--written ones princ.i.p.ally, and reading aloud. So I got into no fresh disgrace. It was a very rainy day, there was no question of going out, and I was sent to practise at twelve o'clock till the dressing-bell rang for the early dinner. That was to keep me away from the other girls.

As soon as dinner was over Miss Broom came to me with a French poetry book in her hand.