Girls of the Forest Part 52

Verena felt very uncomfortable. Of all the Dales she was the most open, in some ways the most innocent. She thought well of all the world. She adored her sisters and her father, and now also her aunt, Miss Tredgold.

She was the sort of girl who would walk through life without a great deal of sorrow or a great deal of perplexity. The right path would attract her; the wrong would always be repellent to her. Temptation, therefore, would not come in a severe guise to Verena Dale. She was guarded against it by the sweetness and purity and innocence of her nature. But now for the first time it seemed to the young girl that the outlook was dark. Her aunt's words absolutely bewildered her. Her aunt suspected Pauline, Pen, Briar, and Patty of concealing something. But what had they to conceal?

It is true that when Aunt Sophia first arrived they had felt a certain repugnance to her society, a desire to keep out of her way, and a longing for the old wild, careless, slovenly days. But surely long ere this such foolish ideas had died a natural death. They all loved Aunt Sophia now; what could they have to conceal?

"I dare not talk about it to the younger girls. I don't want to get into Pen's confidence. Pen, of all the children, suits me least. The people to whom I must appeal are therefore Briar or Patty, or Pauline herself.

Patty and Briar are devoted to each other. The thought in one heart seems to have its counterpart in that of the other. They might even be twins, so deeply are they attached. No; the only one for me to talk to is Pauline. But what can I say to her? And Pauline is not well. At least, she is well and she is not well. Nevertheless I will go and see her. I will find her now."

Verena went into the nursery. Pauline was sometimes there. She was fond of sitting by the cosy nursery fire with a book in her hand, which of late she only pretended to read. Verena opened the nursery door and poked in her bright head and face.

"Come in, Miss Renny, come in," said nurse.

"I am not going to stay, nurse. Ah, Marjorie, my pet! Come and give me a sweet kiss."

The little baby sister toddled across the floor. Verena lifted her in her arms and kissed her affectionately.

"I thought perhaps Miss Pauline was here, nurse. Do you happen to know where she is?"

"Miss Pauline has a very bad headache," said nurse--"so bad that I made her go and lie down; and I have just lit a bit of fire in her bedroom, for she is chilly, too, poor pet! Miss Pauline hasn't been a bit herself since that nasty accident."

"I am sure she hasn't; but I did not know she was suffering from headache. I will go to her."

Verena ran along the pa.s.sage. Her own room faced south; Pauline's, alongside of it, had a window which looked due east. Verena softly opened the door. The chamber was tiny, but it was wonderfully neat and cheerful.

A bright fire burned in the small grate. Pauline was lying partly over on her side; her face was hidden. Her dark hair was tumbled about the pillow.

"Paulie, it is I," said Verena. "Are you awake?"

"Oh, yes," said Pauline.

She turned round almost cheerfully. A cloud seemed to vanish from her face.

"I am so glad you have come, Renny," she said. "I see so little of you lately. Get up on the bed, won't you, and lie near me?"

"Of course I love to be with you, but I thought----"

"Oh! don't think anything," said Pauline. "Just get on the bed and cuddle up close, close to me. And let us imagine that we are back in the old happy days before Aunt Sophy came."

Verena did not say anything. She got on the bed, flung her arms round Pauline's neck, and strained her sister to her heart.

"I love you so much!" she said.

"Do you, Renny? That is very, very sweet of you."

"And you love me, don't you, Paulie?"

"I--I don't know."

"Pauline! You don't know? You don't know if you love me or not?"

"I don't think that I love anybody, Renny."

"Oh, Paulie! then there must be something dreadfully bad the matter with you."

Pauline buried her face in Verena's soft white neck and lay quiet.

"Does your head ache very badly, Paulie?"

"Pretty badly; but it is not too bad for us to talk--that is, if you will keep off the unpleasant subjects."

"But what unpleasant subjects can there be? I don't understand you, Paulie. I cannot think of anything specially unpleasant to talk of now."

"You are a bit of a goose, you know," replied Pauline with a smile.

"Am I? I didn't know it. But what are the subjects we are not to talk about?"

"Oh, you must know! Aunt Sophia, for instance, and that awful time at Easterhaze, and the most terrible of all terrible days when I went to the White Bay, and Nancy King, and--and my birthday. I can't talk of these subjects. I will talk of anything else--of baby Marjorie, and how pretty she grows; how fond we are of nurse, and of father, and--oh!"

Pauline burst into a little laugh.

"Do you know that John is courting Betty? I know he is. He went up to her the other day in the garden and put his hand on her shoulder, and when he thought no one was by he kissed her. I hid behind the hedge, and I had the greatest difficulty to keep back a shout of merriment. Isn't it fun?"

"I suppose so," said Verena. "But, Pauline, what you say makes me unhappy. I wish I might talk out to you."

Pauline raised herself on her elbow and looked full into Verena's face.

"What about?" she asked.

Verena did not speak for a minute.

"Where are your dresses?" she asked suddenly.

"My dresses! You silly girl! In that cupboard, of course. I am getting tidy. You know I would do anything I possibly could to please Aunt Sophy.

I can't do big things to please her--I never shall be able to--so I do little things. I am so tidy that I am spick-and-span. I hate and loathe it; but I wouldn't leave a pin about for anything. You open that door and look for yourself. Do you see my skirts?"

Verena got off the bed and opened the cupboard door. Pauline had about half-a-dozen skirts, and they all hung neatly on their respective hooks.

Amongst them was the thick blue serge which she had worn on the day when she had gone to the White Bay. Verena felt her heart beating fast. She felt the color rush into her cheeks. She paused for a moment as if to commune with her own heart. Then her mind was made up.

"What are you doing, Renny?" said her sister. "How funny of you to have gone into the cupboard!"

For Verena had absolutely vanished. She stood in the cupboard, and Pauline from the bed heard a rustle. The rustling grew louder, and Pauline wondered what it meant. A moment later Verena, her face as red as a turkey-c.o.c.k, came out.

"Paulie," she said--"Paulie, there is no good going on like this. You have got to explain. You have got to get a load off your mind. You have got to do it whether you like it or not. How did you come by this?

How--did--you--come--by--this?"

As Verena spoke she held in her open palm the long-lost thimble. Poor Pauline had not the most remote idea that the thimble was still in the pocket of the blue serge dress. She had, indeed, since the day of her accident, forgotten its existence.

"Where did you get it?" she asked, her face very white, her eyes very startled.

"In the pocket of the dress you wore on the day you were nearly drowned in the White Bay."