DARK DAYS.
A whole week had passed, and there were no tidings whatever of little Nan
or of Annie Forest. No one at Lavender House had heard a word about them;
the police came and went, detectives even arrived from London, but there
were no traces whatever of the missing children.
The midsummer holiday was now close at hand, but no one spoke of it or
thought of it. Mrs. Willis told the teachers that the prizes should be
distributed, but she said she could invite no guests and could allow of
no special festivities. Miss Danesbury and Miss Good repeated her words
to the schoolgirls, who answered without hesitation that they did not
wish for feasting and merriment; they would rather the day passed
unnoticed. In truth, the fact that their baby was gone, that their
favorite and prettiest and brightest schoolmate had also disappeared,
caused such gloom, such distress, such apprehension that even the most
thoughtless of those girls could scarcely have laughed or been merry.
School-hours were still kept after a fashion, but there was no life in
the lessons. In truth, it seemed as if the sun would never shine again at
Lavender House.
Hester was ill; not very ill--she had no fever, she had no cold; she had,
as the good doctor explained it, nothing at all wrong, except that her
nervous system had got a shock.
"When the little one is found, Miss Hetty will be quite well again," said
the good doctor; but the little one had not been found yet, and Hester
had completely broken down. She lay on her bed, saying little or nothing,
eating scarcely anything, sleeping not at all. All the girls were kind to
her and each one in the school took turns in trying to comfort her; but
no one could win a smile from Hester, and even Mrs. Willis failed utterly
to reach or touch her heart.
Mr. Everard came once to see her, but he had scarcely spoken many words
when Hester broke into an agony of weeping and begged him to go away. He
shook his head when he left her and said sadly to himself:
"That girl has got something on her mind; she is grieving for more than
the loss of her little sister."
The twentieth of June came at last, and the girls sat about in groups in
the pleasant shady garden, and talked of the very sad breaking-up day
they were to have on the morrow, and wondered if, when they returned to
school again, Annie and little Nan would have been found. Cecil Temple,
Dora Russell, and one or two others were sitting together and whispering
in low voices. Mary Price joined them, and said anxiously:
"I don't think the doctor is satisfied about Hester, Perhaps I ought not
to have listened, but I heard him talking to Miss Danesbury just now; he
said she must be got to sleep somehow, and she is to have a composing
draught to-night."
"I wish poor Hetty would not turn away from us all," said Cecil; "I wish
she would not quite give up hope; I do feel sure that Nan and Annie will
be found yet."
"Have you been praying about it, Cecil?" asked Mary, kneeling on the
grass, laying her elbows on Cecil's knees and looking into her face. "Do
you say this because you have faith?"
"I have prayed and I have faith," replied Cecil in her simple, earnest
way. "Why, Dora, what is the matter?"
"Only that it's horrid to leave like this," said Dora; "I--I thought my
last day at school would have been so different and somehow I am sorry I
spoke so much against that poor little Annie."
Here Cecil suddenly rose from her seat, and going up to Dora, clasped her
arms round her neck.
"Thank you, Dora," she said with fervor; "I love you for those words."
"Here comes Susy," remarked Mary Price. "I really don't think _anything_
would move Susy; she's just as stolid and indifferent as ever. Ah, Susy,
here's a place for you--oh, what _is_ the matter with Phyllis? see how
she's rushing toward us! Phyllis, my dear, don't break your neck."
Susan, with her usual nonchalance, seated herself by Dora Russell's side.
Phyllis burst excitedly into the group.
"I think," she exclaimed, "I really, really do think that news has come
of Annie's father. Nora said that Janet told her that a foreign letter
came this morning to Mrs. Willis, and somebody saw Mrs. Willis talking to
Miss Danesbury--oh, I forgot, only I know that the girls of the school
are whispering the news that Mrs. Willis cried, and Miss Danesbury said,
'After waiting for him four years, and now, when he comes back, he won't
find her!' Oh dear, oh dear! there is Danesbury. Cecil, darling love, go
to her, and find out the truth."
Cecil rose at once, went across the lawn, said a few words to Miss
Danesbury, and came back to the other girls.
"It is true," she said sadly, "there came a letter this morning from
Captain Forest; he will be at Lavender House in a week. Miss Danesbury
says it is a wonderful letter, and he has been shipwrecked, and on an
island by himself for ever so long; but he is safe now, and will soon be
in England. Miss Danesbury says Mrs. Willis can scarcely speak about that
letter; she is in great, great trouble, and Miss Danesbury confesses that
they are all more anxious than they dare to admit about Annie and little
Nan."
At this moment the sound of carriage wheels was heard on the drive, and
Susan, peering forward to see who was arriving, remarked in her usual
nonchalant manner:
"Only the little Misses Bruce in their basket-carriage--what dull-looking
women they are?"
Nobody commented, however, on her observation, and gradually the little
group of girls sank into absolute silence.
From where they sat they could see the basket-carriage waiting at the
front entrance--the little ladies had gone inside, all was perfect
silence and stillness.
Suddenly on the stillness a sound broke--the sound of a girl running
quickly; nearer and nearer came the steps, and the four or five who sat
together under the oak-tree noticed the quick panting breath, and felt
even before a word was uttered that evil tidings were coming to them.
They all started to their feet, however; they all uttered a cry of horror
and distress when Hester herself broke into their midst. She was supposed
to be lying down in a darkened room, she was supposed to be very
ill--what was she doing here?
"Hetty!" exclaimed Cecil.
Hester pushed past her; she rushed up to Susan Drummond, and seized her
arm.
"News has come!" she panted; "news--news at last! Nan is found!--and
Annie--they are both found--but Annie is dying. Come, Susan, come this
moment; we must both tell what we know now."
By her impetuosity, by the intense fire of her passion and agony, even
Susan was electrified into leaving her seat and going with her.