"I DON'T WANT TO DO WRONG."
When Annie had ended her conference with Mabel Lushington--a conference
which left that young lady in a state of intense and even nervous
excitement, in which she kept on repeating, "I won't; I daren't. Oh!
but I long to. Oh! but I just wish I could," until Annie felt inclined
to beat her--she went away at last with the quiet assurance of a girl
who had won a victory.
Her scheme was ripening to perfection. Mabel, of course, would yield;
the money would be forthcoming. Priscilla would stay at the school, and
Annie would have her hour of triumph.
It was half-an-hour before bed-time on that same evening when clever and
wicked Annie had a further conference with Priscilla. She found poor
Priscilla looking very pale and woe-begone, seated all by herself at one
end of the long schoolroom.
"Come out," said Annie; "it is a perfectly lovely evening, and we need
not go up to our horrid beds for another half-hour."
"You want to tempt me again," said Priscilla, "I won't go with you."
"You needn't," said Annie with emphasis. "I have only this to say.
Your prize paper is finished?"
"Yes."
"I will come to your room for it very, very early to-morrow morning."
"You know, Annie, you daren't come to my room."
"I dare, and will," said Annie. "I will be with you at five o'clock,
before any of the servants are up. At that hour we will safely transact
a very important little piece of business."
"You mean," said Priscilla, raising her haggard face and looking with
her dark-grey eyes full at the girl, "that you want me to go down for
ever in my own estimation, and to proclaim to my good teachers, to dear
Mrs Lyttelton, and to all the girls here that I am not myself at all.
You want me to read an essay written by one of the stupidest girls in
the school as my own, and you want her to read mine--which may probably
be the best of those written--and you want her to win the prize which
ought to be mine."
"Yes, I do want her to win the prize," said Annie, "and for that reason
I want her to read your essay as though it were her own."
"You forget one thing," said Priscilla. "Mabel writes so atrociously
that no one will believe for a single moment that my paper _could_ be
her work; and, on the other hand, people will be as little likely to go
down in their high estimation of my talent as to suppose that I have
seriously written the twaddle which she will give me. You see yourself,
Annie, the danger of your scheme. It is unworkable; our teachers are
all a great deal too clever to be taken in by it. It cannot possibly be
carried out."
"It can, and will," said Annie. "I have thought of all that, and am
preparing the way. In the first place, the paper you will read will be
by no means bad. It will be the sort of paper that will pass muster,
and long before prize day there will be an undercurrent of belief in the
school that Mabel is by no means the dunce she is credited to be."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You had best not know, Priscilla. The main thing for you to consider
is this: You do not go to your horrid uncle Josiah. You spend your
summer holidays with him, I know; but you return here afterwards. You
have another happy year at Lyttelton School, and at the end of that time
you win a splendid scholarship for Newnham or Girton, and go to
Cambridge for three happy years. Think of it, Priscilla; and you can do
it so easily. Do think of it, darling Pris. You are either a household
drudge or a country dressmaker if you don't do this thing; and if you
do--and it's really such a _very_ little thing--you may be anything you
like."
Priscilla sat very still while Annie was talking to her, but in each of
her cheeks there rose a brilliant spot of colour. It spread and spread
until the whole young face looked transformed, the eyes brighter and
darker than before, the lips quivering with suppressed excitement. The
girl's figure became suddenly tense. She stood up; she caught Annie's
hands between her own.
"Oh, how you tempt me!" she said. "_How_ you tempt me! I did not know
I could be so wicked as to listen to you; but I am tempted--tempted!"
"Of course you are, darling. Who would not be who was in your shoes?
Isn't it the law of life to do the very best for one's self?"
"Oh, but it isn't the right law!" gasped poor Priscilla.
"Well, right or wrong," answered Annie, "it is the wisest law."
"But even--even if I did it," said Priscilla, "how is the money to be
got?"
"You leave that to us," said Annie. "Your term's fees will be paid, and
there will be something over. Leave all that to us."
"Go away now," said Priscilla; "don't talk to me any more at all; I must
have time to think. Oh! I don't want to do wrong. I must pray to God
to help me not to yield to you."
"You will not do that," said Annie, "for your own heart, and every
argument in your mind, are inclining you in the other direction. I
leave you now, for I feel certain of you; but Mabel and I will visit you
to-morrow morning at five o'clock."
"You can't come in, for the door will be locked."
"You know," said Annie, staggered for a moment, "that it is against the
rules for any girl to lock her door at night."
"It will be a much lesser transgression on my part to lock my room door
than to allow you and Mabel in," answered Priscilla.
"Well, we will come on the chance," replied Annie. "Ta-ta for a time,
Pris. Oh, what a jolly year you will have, and how hard you will work!
How I shall rejoice to see it!--for, whatever you must think of me, I at
least am not selfish. I lose my dear friend Mabel by this scheme, and I
keep you, who have never yet been my very special friend; but you will
be when we return together to Lyttelton School next autumn. Good-bye,
till to-morrow morning."
Annie tripped from the room.