As soon as Hazel Thorne had fairly started the school that morning, she
took out the envelopes and studied each handwriting fairly to see if she
could make out who were the senders of the letters.
That she found she could not do, but in her own mind she set down the
writers aright, and a bitter feeling of shame and humiliation came upon
her as she felt that those who sent would never have dreamed of making
such a present to any one they respected. It looked to her like
charity, and her face burned as she indignantly longed to return the
envelopes and notes to their senders.
She knew that there had been the three gentlemen visitors to the school
while she was absent upon the previous afternoon, and though it was
possible that they might have been down to speak to her respecting her
failure of trust, her heart told her that it was not; and now her
mother's strong desire to leave the place seemed to have come upon her
in turn, and she felt that she would give anything to be a hundred miles
away from Plumton and at peace.
She tried to win forgetfulness by devoting herself to the various
classes, but in vain; every step she heard seemed to be a visitor coming
to ask her about the money not paid, and every subject she took up
suggested the notes now lying in her pocket.
Twice over she went to her desk and there wrote a brief letter of thanks
to Mr William Forth Burge, but she tore it up directly; and she dared
not write one to George Canninge, nor yet to the vicar, from whom she
was sure the other amounts had come.
Just in the middle of one of her greatest fits of depression there was a
knock at the door, and she dreaded that it might be the vicar, while if
it had been George Canninge she felt that she dared not have faced him.
Her heart gave a throb of relief as she heard the familiar tones of Mr
William Forth Burge, and the next throb was one of gratitude as she knew
that he had had the delicacy to bring his sister with him. Then there
was a depressing feeling as she felt that they would show by their
manner how displeased and disappointed they were at her breach of trust.
Here she was wrong again, for her visitors' greeting was warm in the
extreme, and with the reaction a sensation of oppression robbed her of
the power of speech; while had she not tried hard she would have burst
into a passionate flood of tears.
"We were so sorry to hear of your bad headache, my dear," said little
Miss Burge affectionately, "and really I don't think you ought to be
here now. Your poor eyes look as red as red, and you are quite pale and
feverish."
"So she is," said Mr William Forth Burge. "Why, Betsey, there ought to
be a holiday, so that Miss Thorne could take a day or two's rest."
"No, no, Mr Burge; I am better," said Hazel, speaking excitedly; for
the kindly consideration of these people had taken away all resentment,
all pride, and she felt that she was with friends. "Mr William Forth
Burge--"
"No, no; plain Mr Burge or William Burge to me, Miss Thorne. I don't
want a long name from you."
"Mr Burge--Miss Burge, yesterday I could not have spoken to you upon
this subject, but your kindness--"
"There, there, there; don't say a word about it," he replied quickly.
"I know all, and it was an accident."
"An accident?"
"Yes, my dear," broke in little Miss Burge. "Bill talked it over to me
last night, and--Now, you won't be offended, my dear?"
"Nothing you could say would offend me," cried Hazel eagerly.
"No, of course not, my dear. Well, my brother said to me, `depend upon
it, Betsey, her poor ma wanted the money for housekeeping or something,
and just used it. That's all.'"
"And he has humiliated me by this letter that I received by post."
"Don't call it humiliation, my dear," cried Miss Burge; "it was only
sent out of civility to you as one of our neighbours whom we like, and
that's what it means."
Hazel hesitated for a few moments, and then, in her loneliness and
isolation, she clung to the hands outstretched to help her.
"Mr Burge--Miss Burge, I am so lonely and helpless here. You have
heard about the school pence, but I cannot tell you why the amount was
wanting. Give me your help and counsel."
"Then will you let me help you?"
"I shall be most grateful if you will," cried Hazel.
"Hullo!" shouted Burge, staring up at the partition. "What are you
a-doing there?"
"The shutter slipped down a little, sir," said Mr Chute loudly.
"Trying to close it, sir. That's it!" and the shutter closed with a
snap.
"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Mr William Forth Burge angrily. "I don't
know as that is it, Mr Chute." But Mr Chute had by this time fastened
the shutter, and had descended from his coign of vantage, looking very
red and feeling terribly mortified at having been detected. "He was
listening; that's about what he was doing."
There was a buzz of excitement amongst the children, but it subsided
directly, and Hazel placed at a venture the envelope which she believed
to have come from her visitor in his hands.
"You sent that to me, Mr Burge," said Hazel firmly.
"Well, it was me, as you know, Miss Thorne; and you won't hurt our
feelings by refusing it, will you?"
"I could not take it, sir; but I do appreciate your goodness all the
same. Now help me to decide who sent me these letters."
Hazel's visitors looked at each other, then at the envelopes, and then
back at Hazel.
"Do you want me to say who sent those two letters?" said Mr William
Forth Burge gloomily.
"I should be very grateful if you could, sir."
"This one's from Mr Canninge, at Ardley, I should say; and the other's
the parson's writing, I feel sure. If they've sent you money, Miss
Thorne, of course you won't want mine--ours."
It was an endorsement of her own opinion, and for the moment Hazel did
not notice the dull, heavy look on her visitor's face as she exclaimed--
"I have no doubt these gentlemen had kindly intentions, but I cannot
take their help, and I want to see whether I might risk a mistake in
returning the notes."
"Oh, I think I'd return 'em," said Mr William Forth Burge eagerly.
"I'd risk its being a mistake. Even if it _was_, your conduct would be
right."
Hazel looked at him intently, and then bowed her head in acquiescence.
"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "I will risk its being a mistake. Or no:
Mr Burge, will you be my friend in my present helpless state? I ask
you to return the notes on my behalf."
"That's just what I will do," he cried excitedly, for it seemed to him
that he had won the day.