Hetty Gray Part 17

"I suppose you were sitting all the time reading a story-book," said Phyllis, "that would give you cold in weather like this."

"No, I was not reading, at least not long," said Hetty.

"But were you sitting?"

"No."

"Walking?"

"No, not much."

"My dear, you must not cross-question like that," said Miss Davis.

"Perhaps Hetty will tell me by and by what she was doing."

A frown gathered on Phyllis's fair brows and she turned coldly to her lesson book which she was studying for the next day. She could not bear even so slight a rebuke as this, but she knew how to reserve the expression of her displeasure to a fitting time. She herself believed that she bore an undeserved reproof with dignity, but some day in the future the governess would be made to suffer some petty annoyance or disappointment in atonement for her misconduct in finding fault with her pattern pupil. Hetty raised her eyes with a thankful glance at Miss Davis, who saw that they were full of tears. A sudden warmth kindled in Miss Davis's heart as she saw that Hetty trusted in her forbearance, and she said presently:

"I think you had better go to bed now, Hetty. You look unwell; and bed is the best place for a cold."

"May I go with her, and see that she is covered up warm?" said Nell.

"Yes," said Miss Davis, "certainly." And the two little girls left the room together, Hetty squeezing Nell's hand in grat.i.tude for her kindness.

When they got up to Hetty's room Nell's curiosity could no longer restrain itself.

"Oh, Hetty," she said, "will you tell me what you were doing? I can see it is a great secret. And I won't tell anybody."

"Neither will I," said Hetty laughing; "but I was not hurting anyone, nor breaking the laws."

"Now, you are making fun of me," said Nell; "it is too bad not to tell me. And Phyllis will be cool with me to-night for running after you."

"Then why did you not stay in the school-room?" said Hetty sadly. "I don't want to make coolness between you and Phyllis."

"I shouldn't mind Phyllis if you would let me have a secret with you. It is so nice to have a secret, and it is so hard to get one. Everybody knows all about everything."

"I don't agree with you; I hate secrets," said Hetty. "This is not much of one, I think, but it is somebody else's affair, and I will not tell it."

Having wrung so much as this from Hetty, Nell grew wildly excited over the matter, and was so annoyed at not having her curiosity gratified that she went away out of the room in a hurry without having seen whether Hetty was warm enough or not. On her return to the school-room she announced that Hetty could not tell anything about how she had pa.s.sed the afternoon, because it was somebody else's secret.

"Perhaps she has been bringing some village girl or boy into the grounds," said Phyllis quietly.

"I will talk to her myself about this," said Miss Davis; "pray attend to your studies."

Miss Davis on reflection thought Phyllis might be right, and that having made acquaintance with some young companion in Mrs. Kane's cottage, Hetty might have been induced to admit her or him to the grounds so as to give pleasure. She knew how strongly the child was influenced by her likings and lovings, and feared that this might be the case of Scamp over again, with the important difference that Hetty was now a girl in her twelfth year, and that her new favourite might prove to be a human being instead of a dog.

The next day Hetty was seriously ill. She had caught a severe cold and lay tossing feverishly in her bed. Miss Davis came up to see her in the afternoon and sat at her bedside for half an hour.

"Hetty," she said, "I fear you must have been very foolish yesterday, and that your cold is the consequence. Now that we are alone I expect you will tell me exactly all that you did."

"I can't indeed, Miss Davis."

"You disappoint me exceedingly. I had been thinking so much better of you; I conclude you were not alone yesterday."

"Not all the time, but most of it."

"Who was with you when you were not alone?"

Hetty hesitated, and then said, "Mark."

"But Mark was out riding with his father."

"Yes."

"And you were alone all that time."

"Yes."

"And yet there is something behind that you will not tell. Hetty, I always thought you frank till now. Why are you making a mystery?"

"I can't tell you, Miss Davis; I was not doing any harm."

"How am I to believe that?" said Miss Davis.

"Oh, my head!" moaned Hetty, as the pain seemed crus.h.i.+ng it. She thought that if she were to die for it she would not tell that Mark had treated her badly.

Miss Davis went away hurt and displeased, and Hetty was very much alone for several days, being too ill to leave her room, and too deeply in disgrace to be petted by anyone. She was very unhappy, and lay wondering how it was that with a strong desire to do right she seemed always going wrong. If she had dropped the string, gone away to see Mrs. Kane as she had been longing to do, and returned in good time to the school-room to tea, Mark would perhaps have been better pleased with her than he actually was. He had not guessed that she had meant to please him, to make up for telling Miss Davis that they two had played her a trick. He did not ask about her now she was ill, or notice that she was keeping silence and allowing herself to be misunderstood in order that he might not be blamed. If all were told he could not be much blamed, it was true, for what was a mere piece of forgetfulness. But that carelessness of his was a fault of which his father was very impatient, and which always brought on him a severe reprimand.

"And I will not tell this time," said Hetty to herself, as her eyes feverishly danced after the spots on the wall-paper. "When I told before, it was to save Miss Davis from suffering, this time there is n.o.body to suffer but myself."

In the meantime Mark was spending a few days with a school-fellow at a distance of some miles, and had gone away without hearing about Hetty's illness. As soon as he returned home he missed her, and learned that she was shut up in her room.

He immediately went to inquire for her, and met Miss Davis on the stairs.

"I'm sure I don't wonder she got a cold," he said, "but I never meant her to do it."

"To do what?" asked Miss Davis.

"Why, did she not tell you?"

"I have not been able to get her to tell me what she was about that day for two hours alone in the grounds. She has not behaved well, I am sorry to say; she has been in disgrace as well as ill."

"Then it was a jolly shame!" burst forth Mark. "I left her to hold a string for me, and I forgot all about her, and went away to ride. And she stood holding the string for two hours in the cold. And I called her a duffer for not running away and letting all my pegs go crooked in the ground. Oh, I say, Miss Davis, it makes a fellow feel awfully ashamed of himself."

"So it ought," said Miss Davis, who now understood the whole thing. "She would not tell for fear of getting you blamed."

"And I called her a tell-tale before," said Mark, "because she told you about the trick. I've been punis.h.i.+ng her for weeks about that. Miss Davis, can't I go in and see her and beg her pardon?"

"Certainly," said Miss Davis; "she is sitting at the fire, and her eyes are red with crying. Come in with me and we will try to make her happy again."

"Why, Hetty, you do look miserable!" cried Mark, coming into the room and looking ruefully at her pale cheeks and the black shadows round her eyes. "And to think of you never telling after all I made you suffer!"