MR. HUGO picked himself up, his appearance not greatly improved by
the mud which decorated his dress and moustache, or by the black eye
so generously bestowed upon him by the baggage master, who had again
put his hands in his pockets, and was coolly regarding him through
the glass door of the station house, much as he might have amused his
leisure hours by the contemplation of a stray dog or horse.
His first impulse was to annihilate his late antagonist upon the spot,
but a second thought convinced him that the work of annihilation would
not be a very easy task, and might be attended with inconvenience
to himself; so he contented himself with threatening to procure his
immediate discharge from office, a prospect which Mr. Brown seemed to
take very coolly, and walked off to his lodgings.
As he himself expressed it, he had still another card to play. Delia
was out of his power, and her fortune was lost to him, and he gnashed
his teeth with rage, as he thought how Mr. Fletcher had carried her off
from under his very face and eyes; but he had still all her letters,
and he believed that her father would be very glad to purchase his
silence and their destruction, by the sacrifice of a part of that
fortune which he had hoped to secure entire. Revolving these schemes in
his mind, he retired to rest.
We have already related how Mr. Fletcher and his companion were
received by Mrs. Pomeroy at the door. It was no time for reproof or
inquiry, for Delia was clearly all but beside herself with excitement
and terror, and moreover, it was necessary to have the house quiet
before any alarm should be given which might lead to inconvenient
questions. It was not till Delia was half led, half carried up stairs
into Mrs. Pomeroy's room, her dripping shawl and dress removed, and a
restorative administered, that Mrs. Pomeroy spoke.
"My poor, dear child," said she, "What could have induced you to take
such a step?"
"I don't know," replied Delia. "I was possessed, I think."
A man's step was heard at the door at the moment, and trembling all
over she clung to Mrs. Pomeroy, exclaiming—"Oh, Mrs. Pomeroy, don't let
him come near me—he will kill me!"
"Do not be frightened, my love,—it is only Mr. Fletcher, and you do not
fear him. No one shall hurt you. Poor thing," she said to herself, as
she disengaged herself and opened the door. "It is clearly no time for
lecturing. I must get her to bed at once, and it is a wonder if she is
not sick enough in the morning to make a good excuse for keeping her
there. I only hope poor Emily won't be sick again. What an effort she
must have made!"
Mr. Fletcher had come to suggest that some one should go over to
Delia's room, and take measures to prevent any untoward discoveries
being made in the morning.
"I will go myself, as soon as I got her to bed," said Mrs. Pomeroy.
"She is terrified almost out of her senses."
"I believe she has been ruled by terror more than any thing else,"
replied Mr. Fletcher. "She was evidently most thankful to see me come
in. The villain thought he had provided against her escape, by telling
Brown that she was deranged, and he was her keeper. He did not know
exactly with whom he was dealing."
"There is one thing I should like to know," said Mrs. Pomeroy, "and
that is, how you came to be there at all?"
Mr. Fletcher only smiled, and said good night, nor though Mrs. Pomeroy
often attacked him upon the subject afterward, did she ever succeed in
getting an answer. Whatever might be his sources of information, he
kept them to himself.
"I shall put you to bed in my room for to-night," said Mrs. Pomeroy,
returning to Delia, "and to-morrow we will see what is to be done.
But this much I must say—I will do nothing for you—I will leave
you to the fate you have provoked by your misconduct, unless you
promise to be guided entirely by me, and to be perfectly obedient and
straight-forward."
"I will," replied Delia, earnestly. "I have had enough of crooked
courses, and by the help of God,—if He will help such a creature as I
am—I will never tell another lie as long as I live."
"You must not doubt of God's mercy," said Mrs. Pomeroy. "The greatest
sinner may return to Him, with a full assurance of welcome and pardon.
At the same time, you must not expect to escape entirely from the
consequences of transgression."
"I don't mind that," replied Delia. "Only for my father's sake, I
should be glad to escape from disgrace. But I fear that is impossible!"
And she burst into tears.
"We will talk it all over in the morning, and decide what is best to
be done," said Mrs. Pomeroy, soothingly. "You must go to bed now, and
try to rest. See, here is poor Emily waiting for you! You ought to be
grateful to her, for she ran a great risk to try to save you."
"Oh, Delia!" whispered Emily, as she clasped her friend in her arms, "I
told! I could not help it!'"
"You was right," replied Delia, returning the embrace. "If I had only
listened to you—but it is too late, now!"
"You must not give way to despair," observed Mrs. Pomeroy, over-hearing
her. "Think how much worse it would have been if Mr. Fletcher had not
found you, or if the cars had come in time! Lie down, now, and do not
talk any more. I am going over to your room, and hope to find you both
asleep when I return."
She kissed them both, turned down the gas, and left them to repose.
They had both been greatly excited, and now felt as though rest was
almost out of the question, but sleep comes easily to the young, and
when Mrs. Pomeroy returned, she found them slumbering in each other's
arms.
Mrs. Pomeroy's prophecy proved true, and Delia, next morning, was too
ill to rise. Great was the questioning and wonderment when her room was
found empty, and Miss Thomas came running over to Mrs. Pomeroy's room
with the news, in a state of the greatest excitement.
"What do you think, ma'am? Miss Mason is gone! Her room is empty, and
all her clothes that she wore yesterday are gone: She has gone off to
be married, no doubt. Well, I only hope I shall be allowed to believe
my own eyes, next time, that is all. I am not quite a goose, nor
absolutely a blind bat, though some folks seem to think so!"
"Gently, gently, my dear Miss Thomas," said Mrs. Pomeroy, smiling in
spite of herself. "Miss Mason is safe in my room, and has been there
since midnight. She is very ill, and excessively nervous, and I shall
be obliged to you and the other teachers, if you will keep the house
as quiet as possible, and allow none of the young ladies to come to my
room—but I will arrange that matter myself."
Miss Thomas retreated to her own domain, rather disgusted than
otherwise that Delia should be safe after all, for she was a prophet of
the school of Jonah, and would rather half the young ladies should run
away to be married, than that one of her own predictions should fall to
the ground.
"What is it, Miss Thomas? What did Mrs. Pomeroy say? Does she know that
Delia has gone?" were some of the questions that greeted her from the
group of dressed, undressed, and half-dressed girls, which surrounded
her as she made her appearance in the hall.
"Hold your peace all of you, and get ready for breakfast!" was
the polite rejoinder of the teacher. "Delia is in Mrs. Pomeroy's
sick in bed. That is the whole story, and no one in their senses
would have thought of any thing else. Look at your petticoats, Miss
Faushane,—actually sweeping the floor—I wonder you don't take them to
rub the stove with. Miss Crosby, I will give you an untidy mark for
every curl on your head, if you don't get rid of those curl papers
by breakfast time. Miss Graves, if none of the other teachers think
it worth while to pay any attention to their duties, I think as long
as you are monitress, you might see that the young ladies behave
themselves properly, instead of indulging in idle gossiping conjectures
about their companion."
Janet only shrugged her shoulders and retreated to her own room, to
finish her toilet. She had found that the best way to silence Miss
Thomas, was to let her alone. But Belle was not quite so forbearing.
"I wonder who started the idle gossipping conjectures," said she quite
loudly enough to be heard by the retreating teacher. "No one would have
dreamed of Delia's having run away, if Miss Thomas had not said so."
"It is queer, though," said Almira Crosby. "How did she come to be over
there without any one's knowing it?"
"Easy enough," replied Belle. "She rooms alone, and not feeling well,
she probably dressed herself, and went over to Mrs. Pomeroy's room for
some medicine, and Mrs. Pomeroy kept her."
"She has not seemed like herself for a good while," remarked Annette.
"She has grown so nervous. I have noticed how she changes color when
she gives in her exercise, and you know we did not used to think she
cared for any such thing."
"There is something wrong about those exercises," said Almira. "I have
never felt satisfied about that matter."
"Oh, Almira!" exclaimed Janet, who had appeared again upon the scene,
when Miss Thomas had departed. "What a vacuum your head must be! If
you get a notion into it, it buzzes there like a bee in an empty cask.
It seems to me that I would stuff it with something, if it were only
to stop the echo. No one but yourself sees anything wonderful in the
matter at all, and I had forgotten it long ago."
"Very likely," returned Almira, no-ways abashed by the ridicule, to
which indeed she was pretty well accustomed. "But I don't forget a
thing when once I hear it."
"Don't you?" said Belle. "In what year was the English revolution? You
hear that often enough."
"In 1492," retorted Almira triumphantly. "You didn't catch me that
time, Miss Faushane!"
"Well, I don't know," said Belle. "I should rather think I did."
"I don't care!" returned Almira. "I remember some things, if I don't
recollect dates."
"Such as French verbs, and rules in Arithmetic, I suppose. But come
there is the breakfast bell."
Mrs. Pomeroy appeared at the breakfast table, serene as usual, and no
one was missing but Delia. Emily had been gone so long, that the girls
had ceased to look for her. Towards the end of the meal, Mrs. Pomeroy
tapped with her spoon upon the urn before her, and the girls were all
attention in a moment. Mrs. Pomeroy spoke with her usual deliberation.
"I wish to say to the young ladies, that some of them must come to my
bed-room to-day, upon any pretext whatever, but must apply to Miss
Gilbert who will supply any thing that may be necessary. Miss Mason is
quite ill, and it is necessary that she should be kept perfectly quiet.
I am sure your own good feeling will lead you to make as little noise
as possible in going back and forth to your lessons. There will be no
recitations in French this morning, and the young ladies will study in
the school-room during that hour. You are excused."
"There, I knew there was something queer," said Almira, exultingly.
"I knew that Mr. Hugo was mixed up in it somehow. What is he away for
to-day, if it is not so?"
"Perhaps he has shot himself!" said Janet, bravely.
"Or lost, or accidentally mislaid himself," added Lucy, taking up the
ball.
"Or lost his boots—or broken his bottle of hair-dye—or got a black
eye—" continued Belle, coming nearer to the truth than she imagined in
this last suggestion. "Send down some one with your compliments, and
inquire."
"I don't care," said Almira, sulkily, "I will find out all about it,
yet,—see if I don't, if I have to listen at the door."
"There will be no occasion to see if you don't, since we shall all
be sure to hear if you do," said Belle. "But I advise you not to let
Mrs. Pomeroy catch you listening. She does not admire the pursuit of
knowledge under such circumstances."
Delia slept till nine o'clock, and awoke so much refreshed and
composed, that Mrs. Pomeroy no longer feared to question her on the
events of the past night. She concealed nothing, but related the whole
affair from the very beginning at the Classical Gymnasium; where the
correspondence commenced, to its close, screening Emily as much as
possible, and taking the whole blame upon herself.
"But I do not understand, Emily, why you did not refuse to have any
participation in the matter," said Mrs. Pomeroy. "You might at least
have done that, if your false ideas of honor and friendship prevented
you from revealing the secret. It was not what I would have expected
from you. I had a good deal of confidence in your good principles."
"Your confidence was sadly misplaced," said poor Emily. "I had a secret
of my own, even worse than Delia's." She felt that the time had come
for her to lay down the burden which had weighed on her so long, and
with many tears, she confessed all her faults from that first one of
making "a bill at the store," to the last and most disgraceful ending.
Mrs. Pomeroy was excessively shocked. She had never dreamed of such
a thing as that the money should have been taken by one of the young
ladies, and she could hardly believe her ears when she heard that such
was the case.
Emily concluded by saying, "Ever since I was sick, I have made up my
mind to confess at all hazards, and I was only waiting to have one more
talk with Delia to try and persuade her to join me. I am ready to tell
the story before the whole school, if you wish me to do so."
"There would be no good, but a great deal of harm in that," replied
Mrs. Pomeroy. "The whole matter has died away now, and there is no use
in recalling it. I think it will be necessary to tell Kitty, but we can
rely upon her discretion as much as if she were fifty years old. The
poor child will be terribly shocked, for she almost worshipped you,
Emily."
"I have been thinking," said Emily in a low voice, "that I ought to
write and tell my father."
"There is some good in her yet," thought Mrs. Pomeroy, "or she would
never propose such a step of her own accord." "You are quite right in
thinking so," she said aloud. "It is one of the best proofs you can
give of your sincere repentance."
"And my father," said Delia anxiously, "what about him?"
"I have written to him and your mother to come here," replied Mrs.
Pomeroy, "and I shall expect them to-morrow morning. We must consult
together what is best to be done. I cannot now arrive at any decision,
and till I do so, I wish neither of you to leave this room on any
pretext whatever, nor shall I allow you to see any one. You must not
complain if I treat you altogether as culprits till you have shown
yourselves worthy of confidence."
There was a violent ring at the door as she spoke, and a few minutes
afterward, a servant appeared and informed Mrs. Pomeroy that Mr. Hugo
was below, and desired to see Miss Mason immediately.
Delia turned pale.
"Oh, Mrs. Pomeroy, I cannot see him. Don't let him come near me!"
"Fear nothing, my child. He shall not harm you, if I can help it. I
only wonder at his insolence in presenting himself here at all."
She stopped a moment to put her cap to rights, for in no emergency was
she seen with any part of her dress in disorder, and descended to the
drawing room, which was directly under her own apartments.
The girls sat clasped in each other's arms, Delia trembling and
terrified, listening to the angry voice which made itself heard through
the floor, and offered a striking contrast to Mr. Fletcher's deep and
composed tones. Leaving them to comfort each other, we will follow Mrs.
Pomeroy to the drawing room.
Mr. Hugo was walking up and down the long apartment, raging like a wild
beast, his appearance not improved by his black eye, or the loss of his
moustache, which he had been obliged to sacrifice, being quite unable
to clean it from the tenacious clay which it had contracted in his
fall. Mr. Fletcher stood by the fire-side, quietly regarding him with
his dark, bright eyes, but showing no signs of disturbance. Mr. Hugo
turned round as Mrs. Pomeroy entered.
"To what am I indebted for the unexpected honor of seeing Madame?"
he inquired, with sarcastic politeness. "If my memory serves me, I
inquired for Miss Mason, alone."
"When visitors inquire for my young ladies, I am accustomed to receive
them myself," was the quiet reply. "Miss Mason is at present quite too
unwell to see any one, and she requests me to say, that neither now,
nor at any other time, does she wish to receive visits from Mr. Hugo.
I must add, that owing to recent events, I must decline any further
attendance from you at this establishment."
"Which I have degraded myself ever to have entered—" burst forth Mr.
Hugo. "But upon what pretext does Miss Mason deny my visits?"
"I am not aware that any pretext is necessary, but if it were, I have
forbidden her to leave her room till her father arrives, nor, I may
add, has she any wish to do so. She has related to me the whole story
of her acquaintance, from the beginning, and I have her authority not
only for refusing any further correspondence, but also for returning
your presents, and requesting the return of her letters."
"Which, nevertheless, I shall take the liberty of retaining," said Mr.
Hugo, with his peculiar smile. "These same letters will make a pretty
little romance, which will, no doubt, be pleasing to the friends of
Miss Mason and Miss Arlington, and add greatly to the reputation of
Mrs. Pomeroy's school, as showing the care which is taken of the young
ladies' morals at that establishment."
This was touching Mrs. Pomeroy upon a tender point. As Delia had once
remarked, she valued the reputation of her school above all things, and
it had hitherto been above a breath of reproach. She cast a glance of
some alarm at Mr. Fletcher, which Mr. Hugo perceived, and fancying that
he had gained an advantage, he pursued it.
"Very pretty documents are these same letters, and when they are
properly arranged, and accompanied with some account of moonlight
walks, and meetings in the back rooms of confectionary shops, and so
forth, they will make a nice story for some of the daily prints. Your
respectable pension will derive additional lustre from the fact of its
having been the scene of such a transaction, and I shall put a pretty
little sum in my pocket. This will be some compensation for the loss of
the fortune of Miss Delia, who, as the heroine of this romance, will
confer honor on her family name. Monsieur says nothing," he added,
turning from Mrs. Pomeroy to Mr. Fletcher. "Possibly he is struck dumb
with astonishment!"
"Not at all!" replied Mr. Fletcher. "I always believed you to be a
consummate rascal, from the first moment I saw you. I suppose the
plain English of all this rodomontade is, that you want to be paid for
suppressing the letters. If that is your object, you would do better to
state it directly."
"Monsieur is very quick-sighted," said Mr. Hugo, with a grin. "You
must be aware that the publication of these letters will irrecoverably
injure the young lady. Notwithstanding the way in which she has treated
me, I have a disinterested regard for her—"
"We will dispense with any reference to your regard," interrupted
Mr. Fletcher, "which might have been somewhat modified, had you been
acquainted with the fact that the young lady's fortune is wholly
forfeited if she marries without her father's consent, before she comes
of age."
"The traitress!" exclaimed Mr. Hugo. "She never told me that. However,
it is no reason why I should not make my profit off these documents."
At this juncture, Mr. Fletcher was called out of the room. He remained
about some five minutes, during which time Mr. Hugo walked up and down,
examining the pictures, and commenting upon them in a way which told a
good deal for his knowledge of arts, and still more for his powers of
impudence, while Mrs. Pomeroy sat on thorns, afraid lest someone should
come in, and wondering what could detain Mr. Fletcher.
Presently he returned. He did not, however, resume his former place but
remained standing by the door, with his hands behind him, and a curious
smile on his face, which Mrs. Pomeroy could not exactly understand.
"Well sir!" said he. "Have you made up your mind how much to ask for
these same documents?"
"Ah! That is coming to the point," said Mr. Hugo. "I have no desire to
be exorbitant, out I am, at this moment, in want of money to return to
France. I should think that a thousand dollars from the young lady's
father, and another thousand from Madame here, would content me—for the
present."
Mrs. Pomeroy opened her eyes in amazement.
Mr. Fletcher said quietly:
"And suppose we pay this sum, what security have we that you will
perform your part of the engagement?"
"The honor of a Frenchman, Monsieur!" said Mr. Hugo, drawing himself up
in a magnificent manner.
Mr. Fletcher laughed outright. "I am afraid you would hardly get a note
discounted upon that security," said he. "I think your terms high, and
as I hold the documents in my possession, at this moment, I must beg
leave respectfully to decline the bargain."
He brought his right hand from behind him as he spoke, and displayed a
large bundle of papers, arranged and filed in a manner which did credit
to Mr. Hugo's business habits. Mrs. Pomeroy uttered an exclamation of
joy, and Mr. Hugo seemed for a moment as though he were about to spring
upon Mr. Fletcher like a wild cat. He restrained himself; however, and
said grimly through his teeth:—
"You search gentlemen's rooms, do you?"
"No," replied Mr. Fletcher, "but there are those who render that
service to such honorable gentlemen as yourself!"
He tapped the door slightly as he spoke. It opened on the instant, and
in walked two stout professional looking men, of decidedly determined
aspect, followed by Mr. Hugo's old acquaintance, Mr. Brown, the baggage
master.
At the sight of the foremost man, Mr. Hugo turned ghastly pale: all his
assurance seemed to desert him—he looked helplessly round as though
searching in vain for some way of escape, and then dropped into a
chair; as the officer, for such he was, walked up to him and laid his
hand on his shoulder, he seemed to collapse and shrink into himself,
and Mrs. Pomeroy looked to see him disappear altogether.
"Excuse me, madam," said the officer, politely addressing Mrs. Pomeroy.
"It becomes my duty to arrest this person for forgery and bank robbery
committed at New Orleans, some time since. We have been for a long time
upon his track, and only heard of his whereabouts a short time ago. I
understand he has been acting as teacher in your establishment, and
elsewhere, under the assumed name of Emile Hugo."
"It is true," replied Mrs. Pomeroy, recovering a little from her first
surprise. "My eyes have been but just now opened to his true character."
"It is well that they are so," said the officer. "From what I gathered
from the papers found in his apartment, I should imagine that he had
been endeavoring to draw some young lady under your charge into a
clandestine marriage. Had he succeeded, he would have been liable to a
prosecution for bigamy, as he has a wife now living in New Orleans."
"My poor Delia!" exclaimed Mrs. Pomeroy, quite thrown off her balance
by this new proof of villainy. "From what a fate have you been saved?"
"Mr. Fletcher, to whom we are indebted for the information which led to
Mr. Bruce's apprehension," continued the last speaker, "has informed me
that the prisoner had an idea of extorting money from the young lady's
friends, by means of those letters, which I thought proper to deliver
to him. As you may have some fears on this point, I take pleasure
in informing you that neither you, nor the lady in question, need
entertain any apprehension, as the proof against him will be more than
sufficient to send him to finish his days in the State prison."
He produced a pair of hand-cuffs, as he spoke, and in a few minutes
the wretched man had taken his departure between his two guards. We
have only to add, that the officers' prediction was fulfilled, and the
accomplished Mr. Hugo now dresses stone in the State prison.
Mr. Brown lingered a moment, to talk the matter over with Mr. Fletcher.
"Well!" said he. "The fellow is well disposed of. The officers came
on the morning train—the very one he would have taken, if it had been
in time. I knew who they were the moment I saw them, and something,
I don't know what, gave me a guess of who they might be after—so I
stepped up and asked them if it was a Frenchman they were looking for.
They said yes, and I described the man who was in the office last night
with the girl. That was their customer, they said, and asked me to go
with them. We went to his boarding-house first, and there saw these
letters lying on the table. I hinted to them that he had been trying
to run off with one of the Seminary girls, and told them to bring the
letters along, intending to hand them to you or Mrs. Pomeroy."
"Thank you, very much," said Mr. Fletcher. "For the poor girl's sake,
I must ask you not to mention what happened last night, as we want to
keep the affair quiet, if possible."
Mr. Brown's tawny moustache twitched a little. "I had a daughter of my
own, about that poor girl's age, Mr. Fletcher. She was a good girl, and
has gone to a better place than this—but I know how I should have felt
if any rascal had tried to serve her so. I am not what I should be, but
I've got a father's feelings, and no one will ever know a word from me!"
"You are a good fellow, Brown," said Mr. Fletcher, grasping his hand.
"But hav'nt you another daughter? I think I have seen a little girl
with you sometimes."
"Yes," replied Mr. Brown, surprised at the question—"Why?"
"I want you to send her up here to school, and let me educate her," was
the reply. "I am sure she will be an honor to the establishment, and
both Mrs. Pomeroy and myself shall consider her education but a small
return for the service you have rendered us in this unhappy affair."
"Pray do so, Mr. Brown," added Mrs. Pomeroy. "I assure you, she shall
be cared for, as if she were my own daughter."
"I don't want any return," said Mr. Brown, a little gruffly. "I did
as I would be done by, and that's enough. At the same time, I have no
right to refuse such an opportunity for the girl, who is a good one, if
I say it myself. I am much obliged to you, ma'am, and since you are so
kind, I shall send her to you to-morrow."
We will not attempt any description of Delia's feelings, when she was
informed by Mrs. Pomeroy of the events that had transpired in the
parlor. It would be hard to tell whether she were more horror-struck at
the danger to which she had been exposed, or thankful for her escape.
Mrs. Pomeroy had a long conversation with her, and was fully convinced
of the reality of her repentance.
"There are your letters," she said in conclusion, putting the parcel
into her hands, "and the only penance I shall at present impose upon
you, is, that of reading them through from first to last, before you
commit them to the flames."
We have but one more incident to record of this most eventful day,
and that is an adventure of Miss Almira Crosby's in the pursuit of
knowledge. Pursuant to the declaration she had made in the morning, she
had been watching and peeping all day, but she had ascertained nothing
beyond the fact that Mr. Hugo had called, and that he had gone away
in company with several other persons; and that Delia and Emily were
together in Mrs. Pomeroy's room.
At last an opportunity presented itself which was too good to be lost.
Mrs. Pomeroy's dressing room opened upon a kind of upper piazza or
balcony, which was accessible by a flight of steps from below. This
door was seldom opened in winter, but as Almira was passing to and
fro upon the walk, trying at least to catch a glimpse of some one
passing the window, she suddenly perceived that the door was ajar. Her
resolution was instantly formed. She slipped off her shoes, and putting
them in her pocket, she stole softly up the stairs, and applied her ear
the door.
All was still at first. There seemed to be no one in the dressing room,
but he heard a murmur of voices beyond, and as her ear grew accustomed
to the sound, she could easily distinguish the words. She heard Mrs.
Pomeroy say, "Are you prepared—"
She listened eagerly for the remainder of the sentence, placing her
head still closer to the door, when alas! A gush of wind came round the
corner—the door slammed violently and suddenly, and poor Almira found
herself a prisoner, held fast by the whole of one side of her long
ringlets, which had been caught by the closing door so close to her
head, that it was a marvel her ear had not shared the same fate.
Here was a dilemma! What was to be done? She could not open the door,
which had no handle on the outside. Mrs. Pomeroy might come out of the
bed-room and find her there at any moment, or some of the girls might
come round the corner. There was but one way. Luckily she had a pair of
scissors in her pocket; she drew them forth, and in another moment she
was at liberty, but at the expense of one whole side of her ringlets,
which she was obliged to leave hanging in the door. It was not till she
had succeeded in escaping unseen to her room, and looked in the glass,
that the whole extent of her misfortune burst upon her, and she saw
that the other side must needs share the fate of its fellow. She burst
into tears, but there was no remedy, and reluctantly she applied the
scissors once more, laying each severed curl carefully and mournfully
away.
"What in the world have you been doing to yourself, Almira?" exclaimed
Annette, opening her eyes in amazement, as Almira came out of her room
when the tea bell rang.
"I have cut off my hair," replied Almira, trying to put a good face
upon the matter. "It was altogether too much trouble, and took too much
of my time."
"But you need not have cut it so short," said Annette. "Why didn't you
just brush it back plain. You look like a picked chicken."
"I made a mistake," replied Almira.
"Never mind, it will soon grow again," said Belle, consolingly, seeing
that Almira looked annoyed. "She will come to something, after all,"
she continued to Janet, as they went down stairs together. "I shall
have some hope of her, now that she has got rid of those curls. Poor
thing, what a struggle it must have cost her."
"Those same ringlets never went for nothing," replied the Queen of
Sheba, who in her office of monitress had been more than usually
disturbed by Almira's carelessness and laziness during the day. "I
should not be surprised if we should hear something more about them
before long."
So it turned out. In her distress at her loss, it had never occurred to
Almira that she was leaving behind her a token of her presence, which
could not fail to be recognized.
Mrs. Pomeroy, coming out of her bed-room, had seen the unlucky ringlets
hanging in the door, and at once divined how they came there. For more
than a year, she had been trying by all sorts of gentle means, to break
Almira of her habit of eaves-dropping, and prying into the concerns
of others, but without the least success, and she now determined to
try the effect of another course. Taking the locks in her hand, she
descended to the tea-table, and at the end of the meal, the usual
signal announced a speech from the throne.
"Has any young lady lost any thing?" asked Mrs. Pomeroy.
There was silence, but one or two glanced significantly at poor Almira,
whose cheeks began to burn.
"These curls were found hanging in the outside door to my dressing
room," continued Mrs. Pomeroy, holding them up in full view of the
assembled family. "I cannot, of course, imagine how they should have
come there, unless, indeed, some one has been listening at the door,
but if they belong to any young lady in the establishment, she can have
them returned, by calling at my room and proving her property."