Oh no; she would not harbour the thought. He had been weak and foolish,
but she felt that she should scorn herself if she harboured such a
thought as that her brother would have taken the money that she had in
charge. It was too dreadful, and she would not believe it.
Then who could it be?
As she asked herself this again and again she suddenly heard a sound
below as of a chair being thrust back. Then some one rose, and there
came the opening of a door, and steps upon the stairs.
Hazel rose softly, and stood behind the dim unsnuffed candle as the
steps came higher. The door was thrust open, and the breath that Hazel
had been holding back till she felt that she must suffocate escaped with
a loud sigh, and mother and daughter stood gazing across the table at
each other.
The thought was horrible, almost maddening--but there was Mrs Thorne
with her cap half off, and her hair slightly disarranged by her
sleeping, staring in a shrinking, half-angry way before her daughter's
searching gaze.
For Hazel had no such thought before. Now it came with almost stunning
violence, and she saw in it the explanation of her mother's strange
manner that day--her sudden desire to leave Plumton at any cost, as soon
as she had read the letter containing the request for the school funds
to be given up.
Words rose to Hazel Thorne's lips, and then sank back; they rose again,
and she still remained silent. It was in her mind to ask her mother in
accusing tones what she knew of the absent money, for she, and she
alone, knew where it was kept and could have had access to the keys.
But no; those words were not uttered. She could not speak them. It was
too horrible! But Hazel's eyes accused the poor, weak woman, who waited
for nothing more, and exclaimed:--
"There, there, Hazel! don't glower at me like that child! It's all your
fault; leaving me so short as you did for days and weeks together. Not
a shilling to call my own, and poor Percy always writing to me for new
clothes and pocket-money; and then things wanted to make the house tidy.
I was obliged to use the money; I don't know what I should have done
without it. You must pay it back out of your next quarter's salary; and
there: pray don't look at me like that. It's very dreadful to be
reduced to taking every penny from your own daughter, and--"
"Oh, mother, mother!" wailed Hazel; "say no more. What have you--have
you done?"
"What have I done? What was I to do? How can you be so foolish, Hazel?
Do you suppose I can keep up even so small an establishment as this
upon the wretched pittance you give me for housekeeping?"
Hazel gazed at her mother wonderingly, for the poor woman took hardly
any interest in the household management which fell almost entirely upon
her child, who found no little difficulty in keeping matters straight.
And now Mrs Thorne was seizing upon this as a reason for her
abstraction of the money; for she made no denial whatever, but, driven
to bay, haughtily acknowledged the fact.
"Then you really did take this money, mother?"
"Of course I did, Hazel. Why should I leave it when it was lying idly
there? It was absurd."
"But, my dear mother, the money was not mine."
"What nonsense, Hazel! What does it matter whether it was yours or not?
Money's money. The school people don't want you to give them the very
pennies that the children brought."
"No, mother; but they want the amount."
"Then give it to them, Hazel. My dear child, what a ridiculous fuss you
do make?"
"But, mother, do you not understand--do you not see that I have no
money, and no means of making it up?"
"Really, Hazel, you are too absurd," said Mrs Thorne with forced
levity. "What is the ridiculous amount?"
"Between twenty and thirty pounds."
"Absurd! Why, I have often given as much, or more, for a new dress.
There, get the money from the school people--Mr Lambent, Mr Burge, or
somebody--and pray do not bother me about it any more."
"Mother, dear mother," cried Hazel, "have you no thought? Tell me, have
you any of this money left?"
"Of course not, and I must beg of you not to address me in so
disrespectful a manner. It is a very good thing that your little
sisters are not awake. I would not have them hear you speak to me like
this on any consideration."
"How ever could you think of taking the money?"
"Now, this is too absurd; Hazel, when you leave me for days together
without a penny. Why, I have even been obliged to go to Mrs Chute to
borrow a shilling before now."
"You have borrowed shillings of Mrs Chute, mother?"
"To be sure I have, my dear; and of course I had to pay them back. She
said it was absurd not to use the school pence."
"She told you that?" cried Hazel quickly.
"Yes, my dear; and she said that both she and Mr Chute often used the
pence, and made the sum up again when he took his salary. There, I am
sleepy. For goodness' sake, put away that box and get to bed, and don't
be so ridiculous."
Hazel looked piteously at her mother, and stood hesitating for a few
minutes, asking herself what she was to do in such a strait, for it
seemed as if Mrs Thorne had quite lost all sense of right and wrong.
Was this really, then, the reason why her mother had expressed such a
keen desire to got. It seemed like it, and this explained a great deal;
for as Hazel studied her appearance more, it became evident to her that
the poor woman was in a state of intense nervous trepidation, and that
she hardly dare meet her daughter's eye.
"Mother," said Hazel at length, "the churchwarden will be here
to-morrow, asking me for this money. What am I to say?"
"Say nothing, you foolish child! Pay him out of some other money."
"You know, mother, that I have no other money whatever."
"Then tell him to wait, like any other trades-person. He is only a
common man. Such people as these must take their money when they can
get it."
"Are you wilfully blinding yourself to the fact, mother, that we have
committed a theft in using this money?"
"My dear, absurd child--"
"That it is as great a trouble as that from the consequences of which
poor, foolish Percy has just been rescued by Mr Burge?"
"Then go to Mr Burge, Hazel, and tell him that you were obliged to use
the money because the salary is so small. He will give you the amount
directly, my dear;" and she nodded and smiled as she eagerly reiterated
her advice.
"Mother, mother, what are you thinking of?"
"I'm thinking of what is for the best, Hazel, under the circumstances,"
said Mrs Thorne pompously.
"Mother," cried Hazel excitedly, for she was now regularly unstrung, "I
could not degrade myself by going and asking Mr Burge for that money,
and I dare not face the churchwarden to-morrow when he comes. You took
the money--cruelly took the money that was not mine--and I must send him
to you."
"No--no; no, no, my dear Hazel, I could not, I will not see him! It is
impossible. I dare not face him, Hazel. No, no! Let us go away; there
is plenty of time. Let us go and settle down somewhere else, and let
them forget all about it. They soon will."
"Mother, are you bereft of your senses?" said Hazel. "Oh, for shame,
for shame! How could we go away and leave such a name behind us? How
could I ever hold up my head again? Oh, how could you? How could you?"
"I'm sure, my dear, I never thought it would cause all this trouble, or
I wouldn't have taken the paltry, rubbishing money. But Hazel, Hazel,"
she cried, glancing round in an excited manner, "you--you don't think--
you don't think--they'd take me up for it? Hazel, it would kill me; I'm
sure it would. I've been frightened, my dear, ever since I took the
first packet; but taking one seemed to make me take another."
"Mother," said Hazel, as a thought flashed across her mind, "does Mrs
Chute know that you took this money?"
"Yes, my dear; I told her every time, and she said it was quite right
and the best thing I could do. Oh, my dear child, pray, pray do
something! Let's--let's run away, Hazel; and take all we can carry, and
leave the rest."
"Be silent mother. Sit down, and let me think," said Hazel in a cold,
hard voice.
"Oh, don't speak to me like that Hazel!" cried Mrs Thorne
reproachfully. "What have I done to deserve it?"
Hazel glanced at her wonderingly, for the poor woman's words were
absurd; but she had evidently spoken in all sincerity, and there was a
mute agony of mind and appeal in her countenance, which made her child
feel that it would be folly to look upon her any more as one who was
thoroughly answerable for her actions.
"Hadn't we better go, Hazel?" she said again. "This is a miserable
place, and we should be better away. The people are not nice. We could
get a long way off by morning, and then we shouldn't be worried any more
about this wretched school money."
"Pray, pray be quiet, mother!" said Hazel wearily; "you distract me!"
"Ah! you are beginning to feel what trouble is now. I've--had my share,
Hazel."
"Mother, will you be silent, and let me try to think of some way out of
this difficulty?"
"Of course I will, my dear; though I don't see why you should speak so
pertly to me, and show such want of respect for your poor, bereaved
mother. For my part, I don't think you need trouble your head about it.
The churchwarden will know that you are a lady, and if, as a lady, you
give him your word that you will send the money to him--say to-morrow or
next day, or next week--I'm sure it cannot be particular to a few days."
Hazel covered her face with her hands, resting her elbows upon her
knees, while Mrs Thorne went maundering on; and as the poor girl sat
there, mingled with her thoughts came her mother's garrulity. Now it
was strong advice to go at once to Mr Burge, who, in spite of his
vulgarity, was very rich and well-disposed. Mrs Thorne said that she
would not for a moment mind asking him herself, and that would settle
the matter at once.
Then she thought that Mr Lambent, who, in spite of his stiffness, was a
thorough gentleman, had displayed a good deal of interest in Hazel. He
would lend her the money in a moment if he had it; but then Mrs Thorne
was not sure that he had got it, and he might not be able to get it in
time; for, as Hazel would know when she grew older, clergymen were very
often short of money, especially curates; and if she, Mrs Thorne, had
her time to come over again, she should never listen to the attentions
of a curate. Yes: Mr Lambent would, of course, lend the money if he
had it, for he was a perfect gentleman, and could not, of course, refuse
a lady; but then he might not have it and if this were the case, all he
could do would be to speak to the churchwarden and tell him to wait.
Then there was Mr Canninge, a very gentlemanly man, who might be quite
ready to advance the amount as a sort of donation to the school,
especially as Hazel was so genteel, and ladylike. She felt that she
rather liked Mr Canninge, and if she were Hazel she should be very
particular how she behaved to Mr Canninge--for there was no knowing.
Some gentlemen had common-sense enough not to look for money, and she
had her suspicions on the day of the school feast.
"Yes," rattled Mrs Thorne, "he was very attentive that day. I remarked
it several times. I have a very observant eye, Hazel, for that sort of
thing, and depend upon it my dear, if you play your cards properly,
there are far more unlikely things than your becoming mistress of Ardley
Hall. Yes; I should say that you might very well send Mr Canninge a
nicely-worded note, written on thoroughly good paper--in fact, I'd get
some for the purpose--and take pains with your writing, so as to let him
see that you are a lady. I should tell him that a sudden demand has
been made upon you for fifty pounds--yes, I'd make it fifty pounds,
anything under looks so paltry, and as if you were a common
begging-letter writer. I don't know but what I'd make it a hundred
while I was about it. The extra money would be so useful, my dear; you
could buy yourself a few dresses with it and make yourself more
attractive. You would be sure to win Mr Canninge, I feel certain. The
very fact of your showing him that you look upon him almost as a friend
would be sufficient to make, as it were, a link between you. Ah! my
dear, if young people would only think a little more of their advantages
they would be far more successful in life."
Here Mrs Thorne yawned very audibly, and looked at Hazel, who was still
bending down, hearing everything, and struggling at the same time to see
her way out of the difficulty before them, and to keep back the feelings
of misery and degradation aroused by her mother's words.
"She has actually gone to sleep!" said Mrs Thorne, who seemed quite to
have forgotten the terrors of the past few hours. "Ah, these young
people--these young people! Heigh-ho!--has--have--Dear me, how sleepy I
am! I think I'll go to bed."
She glanced at Hazel, and hesitated for a moment, as if about to touch
her, but directly after she left the room, saying--
"I won't wake her. Poor girl! she works very hard, and must be terribly
tired."
As Mrs Thorne closed the door and went into the adjoining room, Hazel
rose from her crouching attitude, her faced lined with care-marks, and a
hopeless aspect of misery in her heavy eyes.
Hazel stood gazing at the door, listening to every sound from the little
adjoining room, till she heard her mother sigh and throw herself upon
the bed, when she said in a low voice, "God help me!" and knelt down to
pray.