A Very Naughty Girl Part 56

Another doctor was summoned, and another telegraphed for from London, and great was the agitation and misery. By and by Audrey found herself alone. She could scarcely understand her own sensations. In the first place, she was absolutely useless. Her mother was absorbed in the sickroom; the servants were all occupied-even Read was engaged as temporary nurse until a trained one should arrive. Poor Audrey put on her hat and went out.

"If only my dear Miss Sinclair were here!" she thought. "Even if Evelyn were here it would be better than nothing. Oh, no wonder we quite forget Evelyn in a time of anguish like the present!"

Then a fearful thought stabbed her to the heart.

"If anything happens--" She could not get her lips to form the word she really thought of. Once again she used the conventional phrase:

"If anything happens, Evelyn will be mistress here."

She looked wildly around her.

"Oh! I must find some one; I must speak to some one," she thought. "I will go to Sylvia; it is no great distance to The Priory. I will go over there at once."

She walked quickly. She was glad of the exercise-of any excuse to keep moving. She soon reached The Priory, and was just about to put her hand on the latch to open the big gates when a girl appeared on the other side-a girl with a white face, somewhat sullen in outline, with big brown eyes, and a quant.i.ty of fair hair falling over her shoulders. Even in the midst of her agitation Audrey gave a gasp.

"Evelyn!" she said.

"I am not going with you," said Evelyn. She backed away, and a look of apprehension crossed her face. "Why have you come here? You never come to The Priory. What are you doing here? Go away. You need not think you will have anything to do with me in the future. I know it is all up with me. I suppose you have come from the school to-to torture me!"

"Don't, Evelyn-don't," said Audrey. "Oh, the misery you caused us last night! But that is nothing to what has happened now. Listen, and forget yourself for a minute."

Poor Audrey tottered forward; her composure gave way. The next moment her head was on her cousin's shoulder; she was sobbing as if her heart would break.

"Why, how strange you are!" said Evelyn, distressed and slightly softened, but, all the same, much annoyed at what she believed would frustrate all her plans. For things had been going so well! The poor, silly old man who lived at The Priory was too ill to take any notice.

She and Sylvia could do as they pleased. Jasper was Mr. Leeson's nurse.

Mr. Leeson was delirious and talking wild nonsense. Evelyn was in a scene of excitement; she was petted and made much of. Why did Audrey come to remind her of that world from which she had fled?

"I suppose it was rather bad this morning at school," she said. "I can imagine what a fuss they kicked up-what a s.h.i.+ndy-all about nothing! But there! yes, of course, I do not mind saying now that I did do it. I was sorry afterwards; I would not have done it if I had known-if I had guessed that everybody would be so terribly miserable. But you do not suppose-you do not suppose, Audrey, that I, who am to be the owner of Castle Wynford some day--"

But at these words Audrey gave a piercing cry:

"Some day! Oh, Evelyn, it may be to-day!"

"What do you mean?" said Evelyn, her face turning very white. She pushed Audrey, who was a good deal taller than her cousin, away and looked up at her. Audrey had now ceased crying; she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"I must tell you," she said. "It is my father. He shot himself by accident this morning. His new gun from London was loaded. I suppose he did not know it; anyhow, he knocked the gun against something and it went off, and-he is at death's door."

"What-do-you say?" asked Evelyn.

A complete change had come over her. Her eyes looked dim and yet wild.

She took Audrey by the arm and shook her.

"The gun from London loaded, and it went off, and-- Is he hurt much-much? Speak, Audrey-speak!"

She took her cousin now and shook her frantically.

"Speak!" she said. "You are driving me mad!"

"What is the matter with you, Evelyn?"

"Speak! Is he-hurt-much?"

"Much!" said Audrey. "The doctor does not know whether he will ever recover. Oh, what have I done to you?"

"Nothing," said Evelyn. "Get out of my way."

Like a wild creature she darted from her cousin, and, fast and fleet as her feet could carry her, rushed back to Castle Wynford.

It took a good deal to touch a heart like Evelyn's, but it was touched at last; nay, more, it was wounded; it was struck with a blow so deep, so sudden, so appalling, that the bewildered child reeled as she ran.

Her eyes grew dark with emotion. She was past tears; she was almost past words. By and by, breathless, scared, bewildered, carried completely out of herself, she entered the Castle. There was no one about, but a doctor's brougham stood before the princ.i.p.al entrance. Evelyn looked wildly around her. She knew her uncle's room. She ran up-stairs. Without waiting for any one to answer, she burst open the door. The room was empty.

"He must be very badly hurt," she whispered to herself. "He must be in his little room on the ground floor."

She went down-stairs again. She ran down the corridor where often, when in her best moments, she had gone to talk to him, to pet him, to love him. She entered the sitting-room where the gun had been. A great shudder pa.s.sed through her frame as she saw the empty case. She went straight through the sitting-room, and, unannounced, undesired, unwished-for, entered the bedroom.

There were doctors round the bed; Lady Frances was standing by the head; and a man was lying there, very still and quiet, with his eyes shut and a peaceful smile on his face.

"He is dead," thought Evelyn-"he is dead!" She gave a gasp, and the next instant lay in an unconscious heap on the floor.

When the unhappy child came to herself she was lying on a sofa in the sitting-room. A doctor was bending over her.

"Now you are better," he said. "You did very wrong to come into the bedroom. You must lie still; you must not make a fuss."

"I remember everything," said Evelyn. "It was I who did it. It was I who killed him. Don't-don't keep me. I must sit up; I must speak. Will he die? If he dies I shall have killed him. You understand, I-I shall have done it!"

The doctor looked disturbed and distressed. Was this poor little girl mad? Who was she? He had heard of an heiress from Australia: could this be the child? But surely her brain had given way under the extreme pressure and shock!

"Lie still, my dear," he said gently; and he put his hand on the excited child's forehead.

"I will be good if you will help me," said the girl; and she took both his hands in hers and raised her burning eyes to his face.

"I will do anything in my power."

"Don't you see what it means to me?-and I must be with him. Is he dead?"

"No, no."

"Is he in great danger?"

"I will tell you, if you are good, after the doctor from London comes."

"But I did it."

"Excuse me, miss-I do not know your name-you are talking nonsense."

"Let me explain. Oh! there never was such a wicked girl; I do not mind saying it now. I loaded the gun just to show him that I could shoot a bird on the wing, and-and I forgot all about it; I forgot I had left the gun loaded. Oh, how can I ever forgive myself?"

The doctor asked her a few more questions. He tried to soothe her. He then said if she would stay where she was he would bring her the very first news from the London doctor. The case was not hopeless, he a.s.sured her; but there was danger-grave danger-and any shock would bring on hemorrhage, and hemorrhage would be fatal.