Part 28 (1/2)
”Oh, for heaven's sake, don't talk humbug! If you are my truest friend you will act as such. Now, what is the matter--what is up?”
”I will tell you.”
”I am all attention,” said Betty. ”Pray begin.”
”I hurt your feelings downstairs just now by saying that I did not care for your story-telling.”
”You didn't hurt them in the least, for I never expected you to care.
The story-telling wasn't meant for you.”
”But I must mention now why I didn't care,” continued f.a.n.n.y, speaking as quickly as she could. ”Had you been the Betty the rest of the school think you I could have lost myself, too, in your narrative, and I could have seen the picture you endeavored to portray. But knowing you as you are, Betty Vivian, I could only look down into your wicked heart----”
”What an agreeable occupation!” said Betty with a laugh which she tried to make light, but did not quite succeed.
f.a.n.n.y was silent.
After a minute Betty spoke again. ”Do you spend all your time, f.a.n.n.y, gazing into my depraved heart?”
”Whenever I think of you, Betty--and I confess I do think of you very often--I remember the sin you have sinned, the lack of repentance you have shown, and, above all things, your daring spirit in joining our club. It is true that when you joined--after all my advice to you to the contrary, my beseeching of you to withstand this temptation--I gave you to understand that I would be silent. But my conscience torments me because of that tacit promise I gave you. Nevertheless I will keep it.
But remember, you are in danger. You know perfectly well where the missing packet is. It is--or was, at least--in the hollow stump of the old oak-tree at the top of the hill, and you positively told Sibyl Ray a lie about it when she saw you looking at it yesterday. Afterwards, in order to divert her attention from yourself, you sent her to gather marguerites to make a wreath for her hair--a most ridiculous thing for the child to wear. What you did afterwards I don't know, and don't care to inquire. But, Betty, the fact is that you, instead of being an inspiring influence in this school, will undermine it--will ruin its morals. You are a dangerous girl, Betty Vivian; and I tell you so to your face. You are bound--bound to come to grief. Now, I will say no more. I leave it to your conscience what to do and what not to do. There are some fine points about you; and you could be magnificent, but you are not. There, I have spoken!”
”Thank you, f.a.n.n.y,” replied Betty in a very gentle tone. She waited for a full minute; then she said, ”Is that all?”
”Yes, that is all.”
Betty went away to her own room. As soon as ever she entered, she went straight to the looking-gla.s.s and gazed at her reflection. She then turned a succession of somersaults from one end of the big apartment to the other. Having done this, she washed her face and hands in ice-cold water, rubbed her cheeks until they glowed, brushed her black hair, and felt better. She ran downstairs, and a few minutes later was in the midst of a very hilarious group, who were all chatting and laughing and hailing Betty Vivian as the best comrade in the wide world.
Betty was not only brilliant socially; at the same time she had fine intellectual powers. She was the delight of her teachers, for she could imbibe knowledge as a sponge absorbs water. On this particular day she was at her best during a very difficult lesson at the piano from a professor who came from London. Betty had always a pa.s.sionate love of music, and to-day she revelled in it. She had been learning one of Chopin's Nocturnes, and now rendered it with exquisite pathos. The professor was delighted, and in the midst of the performance Mrs. Haddo came into the music-room. She listened with approval, and when the girl rose, said, ”Well done!”
Another girl took her place; and Betty, running up to Mrs. Haddo, said, ”Oh, may I speak to you?”
”Yes, dear; what is it? Come to my room for a minute, if you wish, Betty.”
”It isn't important enough for that. Dear Mrs. Haddo, it's just that I am mad for a bit of frolic.”
”Frolic, my child! You seem to have plenty.”
”Not enough--not enough--not nearly enough for a wild girl of Aberdeens.h.i.+re, a girl who has lived on the moors and loved them.”
”What do you want, dear child?”
”I want most awfully, with your permission, to go with my two sisters Sylvia and Hester to have tea with the Mileses. I want to pet those dogs again, and I want to go particularly badly between now and next Thursday.”
”And why especially between now and next Thursday?”
”Ah, I can't quite give you the reason. There is a reason.
Please--please--please say yes!”