Chapter XXVI: "no Sense of Honour Whatever."

LOTTIE MEDLAND'S recovery from the serious illness which followed her accident was a slow one, and it was fully a month before she was able to come downstairs again, so that it was well on in November when she at last returned to her work at the factory, looking a pale, fragile girl, whose blue eyes had lost their old furtive, restless expression, and were grave and sad. Her former acquaintances declared she had altered wonderfully, and they soon discovered that the alteration was not only in her outward appearance.

"Bless me, child, how like you are growing to Malvina," Mrs. Medland observed, as she glanced at Lottie across the tea-table one evening, at the conclusion of what had been for both a hard day's work. "I'm glad to see it," she proceeded, as a flush of gratification rose to her daughter's wan cheeks, "and I'm not the only one who's noticed it, for Miss Ann remarked it to me the last time I saw her. I don't think it's so much that you're pale and thin, though may be that has something to do with it, for of course poor Malvina always looked more or less ill; no, I think, as Miss Ann said, that the likeness lies in the expression of your face—a certain look which one catches now and again."

"I am glad Miss Ann can see a likeness in me to Malvina," Lottie said softly. "Oh, mother, how good and considerate Miss Ann has been to me! I quite thought she'd turn from me in horror when she knew what a wicked girl I'd been, and, instead of doing that, she's been kinder than ever. And you, too, mother, you've never reproached me, never even scolded me—"

"Because I saw you were really repentant, Lottie," her mother interposed, "and you were so ill that I feared at one time I was to lose both my daughters. I thank God for sparing you to me, my dear child!"

"Oh, mother! And I have been such a trouble to you and such a disgrace! But I'll try to make amends, indeed I will! Please God I'll be a better daughter to you in the future, and I'll try to show people their goodness to me hasn't been thrown away. Bad girl as I've been, I've had the best friends in the world—Dr. Elizabeth, and Mrs. Reed and Miss Ann, and that pretty Miss Violet who has always a pleasant word for me whenever we meet. I told Dr. Elizabeth once that I'd never bet again; I meant to keep my word, but—I soon broke it. I'm not going to make any promise now, but I shall pray—oh, so earnestly—that I may be helped to turn away from temptation."

There was silence between mother and daughter for a few minutes. At length Mrs. Medland wiped away the glad tears which had risen to her eyes, and said in a voice which faltered with emotion:—

"Oh, Lottie, how I wish Malvina had lived to see you turn over a new leaf! She used to worry about you so much, my dear!"

"I know, I know!" cried Lottie distressfully. "When I was upstairs ill, I was always thinking of Malvina," she continued in a tremulous tone, "how she used to lie there suffering—oh, much worse than I ever suffered—so patient and uncomplaining, and I used to feel I never could be happy again; but one day I thought, maybe, where she has gone she may be able to look down on us here, and if so she knows that I have really and truly repented of my wickedness, and she will be glad. As Miss Ann says, we can't tell how much the dead know. I mean to try to be more like Malvina in future, and I hope I'll never willingly give you trouble again." The girl's voice was intensely sincere.

It was a hard task for Lottie to walk the straight path, for it was most difficult for her to turn her back on her former companions, who could not understand why her illness should have sobered her to such a marked extent, and the vice of gambling had taken such strong hold of her that it offered many temptations still; but she stood firm in her determination to lead a better life. She had had plenty of time for serious thought during her recent illness, and in that little room upstairs, where she had been obliged to spend long days alone whilst her mother had been at work, she had truly been brought to repentance, and had sought forgiveness of the Saviour in whom her sister had so completely trusted. It had therefore not been resting entirely on her own strength that she had taken up her daily life again. In Malvina's Bible she had found a verse marked with a pencil line, and, during her sickness it had been continually in her mind:—

"Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings and not one of them is forgotten before God?"

"And if He watches over and cares for the sparrows," Lottie had thought, "then surely He will not fail to help me," and she had understood why her dead sister had loved the little brown birds, and a sense of sweet comfort had crept into her aching heart.

Ann Reed had paid Lottie several visits during her illness. She had told her that Dr. Reed had purchased the tortoise-shell purse from the pawnbroker and caused it to be returned to its rightful owner, and that he had made good the stolen money. Lottie had said very little on hearing this, though she had wept many tears and sobbed bitterly; in her heart of hearts she had been intensely grateful, but she had been quite incapable of putting her feelings into words.

By Violet's desire, Ann had not mentioned to either Lottie or Mrs. Medland that an innocent person had been suspected of the theft of the purse.

"I don't wish either of them to know I've had to suffer for Lottie's dishonesty," Violet had said decidedly; "they would feel so dreadful about meeting me again if they knew." And Ann had gladly held her peace on the point.

The news that Agnes Hosking's purse had been found had been received with much thankfulness by the Wyndham family; and when, towards the end of November, Dr. Reed and his wife stopped a few days in London on their way home from their holiday in Devonshire and spent an afternoon with the Wyndhams at Streatham, they were able to give the assurance, when questioned, that Violet was now quite happy at Helmsford College, and on the best of terms with most of her school-fellows.

"I hope you will let her remain with us until her education is completed, at any rate," Mrs. Reed said earnestly to Mrs. Wyndham; "for I do not know what Ann would do without her now. The two girls are wonderfully good friends. One of these days you must let Ruth come and stay with us, will you?"

"Oh, what a treat that would be, and how I should enjoy it!" cried Ruth, before her mother had time to reply, her sensitive face flushing brightly at the anticipation of such an unlooked for pleasure. Then she remembered how, a year before, Dr. Reed had spoken of her visiting Barford and nothing had come of it. That, however, had not been the kind doctor's fault.

"I am sure we should be delighted for Ruth to have such a nice change," Mrs. Wyndham said with a smile. "But you must not keep her too long," she went on somewhat plaintively, "for things will be sure to go wrong if she is not here to look after them. My husband relies upon her as much as I do. She is our right hand, Mrs. Reed."

"So I have heard," rejoined Mrs. Reed. "I think it is very nice to know that one is of importance, especially in one's own home," she added, with a kind look at Ruth who blushed more rosily than ever.

Thus it came about that when Dr. and Mrs. Reed returned to Barford, they brought Violet the news that, if all went well, during the Christmas holidays she was to have a visit from her elder sister. Violet's delight was boundless on hearing this, as also was Ann's, and various were the plans the two girls discussed, during the following weeks, as to the way in which Ruth was to be entertained.

More than two-thirds of the winter term had now slipped by without either Ann or Violet having exchanged half a dozen words with Agnes Hosking; they avoided her all they possibly could, nevertheless they were brought more or less in contact with her every day from the fact of her being in the same class at school as themselves. Agnes was not a favourite with the teachers, for she was an indolent girl; she saw no reason why she should work hard as most of the other pupils were doing, for, as she had given everyone at Helmsford College to understand, there never would be any need for her to earn her living. So she idled away the precious hours until those in authority lost patience with her, and, as is generally the way in big schools, the governesses gave their best attention to those more likely to benefit by their instructions.

"Really, Agnes Hosking shows quite a genius for idling," Clara Garret remarked to Violet Wyndham one afternoon subsequent to school hours.

The two girls were alone in one of the class rooms, Violet waiting for Ann Reed who was receiving a music lesson from a visiting master.

"Yes, hasn't she?" said Violet. "I wonder what sort of report she will have sent home at the end of the term; I should like to see it."

"You never speak to her, Violet, do you?"

Violet shook her head. "No," she replied; "once, at the beginning of the term, a day or so after she had regained her purse, she tried to enter into conversation with me, but I wouldn't have it. She began to mumble something about being sorry if she'd hurt my feelings in any way, but I simply turned my back on her, and she hasn't attempted to speak to me since."

"Ann Reed doesn't have anything to do with her either, does she?"

"No. Clara, you can't think how bitter I feel against Agnes still, even now my character has been fully cleared."

"It's only natural you should be resentful, I know I should be. I don't think Agnes has had a very happy time this term, she's had the cold shoulder shown her by several girls whose good opinion she valued."

"Serve her right!" cried Violet vindictively.

"Still the fact of her having money gives her a hold over some who would otherwise taboo her." Clara paused, and looked thoughtful; then, with some hesitation, proceeded to ask: "Violet, do you consider it very wrong to play cards for money?"

"Why, of course I do, don't you? It's gambling!" was the decisive answer.

Clara nodded. "I agree with you," she said; "if I tell you something will you promise to keep it to yourself—it's something I haven't told even to Cicely."

"Then why are you going to tell me?" Violet asked, rather surprised.

"Because I feel I must get the advice of someone, and I know you are to be trusted—so is Cicely, of course, but she isn't strong and she'd be worried and say I ought to confide in Miss Orchardson. The fact is I've found out—but you'll promise to keep this secret, won't you?"

"Yes," assented Violet, her curiosity now thoroughly aroused.

"Well," said Clara, "I've very good reason to believe that gambling goes on at Helmsford College."

"Clara!" Violet's voice was shrill with astonishment.

"Hush! Don't speak so loud as that. Listen, and I'll tell you what I've discovered. You know Cicely and I have a small room to ourselves? Well, Agnes Hosking sleeps in a big room next to ours with three other girls—the two Pelhams and Kitty Majendie—and they sit up late at night playing cards—for money. Oh, no wonder you look incredulous, but it's true!"

"But I thought—surely I've heard you say that one of the governesses always makes a round of the bedrooms every night at ten o'clock in order to see that the girls are in bed and the lights out?"

"Oh, yes! Miss Wilcocks has charge of the rooms on our landing; some of the governesses occasionally pay surprise visits, but she never does. The other night, after she'd been round as usual, I had a most violent attack of toothache; it came on suddenly just as I was dropping off to sleep, and, as you may imagine, it made me wide awake in a minute. I lay still for some time hoping it would pass, but it didn't, and by-and-by I could stand it no longer and determined to go to Miss Wilcocks' room and ask her to give me something to ease the pain—I remembered having heard her say she had some toothache tincture which she had never known fail to effect a cure. Cicely was asleep, so I got up very quietly, put on my dressing-gown, and slipped out into the passage which was all in darkness."

"Well, as I was passing the door of the next room I thought I heard voices, and it occurred to me that one of the girls might have something for toothache, and that if so I need not disturb Miss Wilcocks, so I put my hand on the door handle and turned it, but the door wouldn't open. That surprised me, because there are no keys allowed in the bedroom doors here. I listened and still heard voices, then I gave a gentle knock with my knuckles, and suddenly the voices ceased."

"I waited to see what would happen, and presently I heard something— a box it sounded like—dragged from before the door, and the next minute Agnes Hosking, wrapped in a dressing-gown and shawl, opened the door to me. She was pale and trembling and looked very frightened, but as soon as she recognised me her expression changed; she seemed tremendously relieved and began to laugh in a silly, giggling fashion, and pulled me into the room and shut the door."

"Yes?" said Violet eagerly, as her companion paused to take breath— she had been speaking quickly and excitedly.

"Agnes asked me what I wanted, but I didn't answer at once for I was looking about the room. The three other girls were in bed, but when they saw who it was that had disturbed them they got out, and they were all in their dressing-gowns, too; and Kitty Majendie, who had a pack of cards in her hands, explained that they'd been having a game of Bridge and said that of course I wouldn't tell on them and they would trust to my sense of honour to hold my tongue. Then I inquired if they had any toothache tincture, but they hadn't, so I said good-night and went back to my own room; and, do you know, my toothache had actually gone—I believe the shock I had experienced had driven it away, for it really had been a shock to me to discover what was going on. The next day I asked Kitty Majendie if they played for money, and she admitted that they did, though not for high stakes."

"I should think not!" exclaimed Violet, "but whether they play for little or much the principle is the same—it is gambling. Oh, how dreadful it seems! The idea of gambling going on in a school like this! I wonder what would happen if Miss Orchardson found it out?"

Clara shook her head, she could not tell. "It seems that the Pelhams started this card playing," she said, "their people are rich, and they play cards for money at home, and they have a lot of pocket-money, they have won a good bit from Kitty Majendie and Agnes Hosking. Kitty is a silly, good-natured little creature, you know, who doesn't like to decline to play, and Agnes thinks it's rather a fine thing to do, she says all fashionable people play Bridge."

Violet smiled sarcastically. "Then you have spoken to her about it?" she said inquiringly.

"Yes. I thought I ought to remonstrate with all four of them, but I fear I did no good. The Pelhams and Agnes only laughed at me; Kitty, however, admitted that she couldn't play cards any longer because she had no money to stake. The question is, what ought I to do? If I tell Miss Orchardson I shall most probably get all four girls expelled."

"The Pelhams are leaving at Christmas, anyway," said Violet thoughtfully; "really I hardly know what to advise. I know! Threaten to tell Miss Orchardson unless they promise you not to touch cards again whilst they are at school."

"Yes; I might do that certainly, and I will. I am glad I have taken you into my confidence, Violet; this business has been a real worry to me. Not a word about it to anyone, mind!"

"Not even to Ann?"

"Well, you may tell Ann if you like, but it must go no further. Hush, someone's coming!"

It was Agnes Hosking. She entered the room and began to turn over the books on the table, Clara watching her whilst Violet studiously looked another way.

"What are you searching for?" Clara inquired presently.

"Only my French exercise book," Agnes answered, "I've missed it. I have to rewrite an exercise for Mademoiselle. I wish you'd help me with it, Clara. Do! You understand all about irregular verbs, and I don't."

"Mademoiselle said no one was to help you," Clara reminded her.

"But she won't know!"

An indignant flush rose to Clara's pale cheeks, and she made no answer. Agnes glanced from her to Violet, and laughed uneasily; she had found her exercise book now, and stood with it in her hand, fluttering its pages.

As neither of her companions spoke, after a minute or so she turned to leave the room; on reaching the door she overheard Violet say: "She has no sense of honour whatever."

The remark had not been meant for her ears, so she took no notice of it, but it had made her wince.