CONCLUSION.
The two girls were in the shop next morning when a man came in and
asked to see Mrs. Maple.
"I can serve you," said Marion who thought he looked at the window as
though he wanted to give an order.
"Thank you; I don't doubt your ability, young woman, but I want to see
your mistress."
Marion tossed her head rather disdainfully as she went into the little
back parlour, for she did not like being called "young woman" by this
stranger.
Mrs. Maple came out into the shop, and Marion returned to her work of
dusting, while the stranger said a few words in an undertone to the old
lady.
"What did you say?" she gasped, looking as though she had been shot,
"come in here and tell me, for I'm sure this is a mistake."
"No mistake at all ma'am, for I kept my eye on them all the way from
the theatre," he said.
He had followed Mrs. Maple into the back parlour, and the old lady had
sat down, for she seemed unable to stand after the shock the man's
words had caused her.
"Now tell me all about it," she said, "and I will call them in and ask
them."
"No need to do that, ma'am; at least not just yet. They were both out
until nearly twelve o'clock last night, you admit, and I tell you I
watched them home from the ---- theatre, where they had spent the
evening among a gang of smart young thieves. Three or four of them
were taken, but there are several watches and other valuables still
missing, and I have a warrant to search for these and arrest your two
shop-women."
"What, take them to prison! But I tell you it must be a mistake; the
youngest is a young girl only a few months from the country, and the
other, her cousin, is a thoroughly respectable young woman, who has
been with me nearly a twelvemonth now."
"That may be, ma'am, but still they were there, and with a party of
thieves, too. Will you call them in and let me question them?"
"Well, I will call the younger one first. Kate!" said Mrs. Maple,
opening the door.
"Yes, ma'am," answered Kate readily.
"Come in and tell me where you went last night," said Mrs. Maple. Kate
turned crimson as she looked from the stranger to her mistress. "Now
tell the whole truth about it, Kate. I don't believe what this person
says--that you were in bad company, but where did you go?"
"To the theatre," faltered Kate.
"You did!" exclaimed her mistress; "and who, did you go with?" she
added.
"With--with some friends," said Kate.
"And who were they, pray?" said Mrs. Maple, sternly.
But Kate shook her head. "Most of them I did not know. William Minn
took us; he brought us the orders."
The man noted her answers down in a book, and then said, "I must search
her boxes."
"Very well," said Mrs. Maple. "Kate, you ought to know that this is a
policeman, and he must search your things for some property that was
stolen at the theatre last night."
"Mine," gasped Kate; but there was no time to say more, for Mrs. Maple
led the way to her room, and she slowly followed behind the detective.
"Which is your box, young woman?" asked the man.
Kate pointed to it, and handed him the key.
"I had that bag with me last night," she said, as he took it out.
The man instantly opened it, and took out some half-eaten buns and
cakes. "From your shop, ma'am," he said grimly.
"I gave them to her before she went out," said Mrs. Maple, stiffly, for
she did not believe the policeman's story, though Kate had admitted
having been to the theatre.
But the next minute she and Kate both felt as if they had been struck,
for he drew out two gold watches with the broken links of the chains
still attached.
"Where did you get these?" asked the man coolly.
But poor Kate could only shake her head, and stare in blank
astonishment at the sight. Mrs. Maple had dropped into a chair,
exclaiming, "Oh dear! oh dear! I never could have believed it."
"No, ma'am, I daresay not; of course you have been cruelly deceived in
these two young women," said the detective, turning over the contents
of Kate's box in search of other stolen property; but there was nothing
more to reward his search, and in a few minutes he said, "Now, ma'am,
if you'll call the other young woman up I will soon finish."
"Yes, yes, to be sure, Marion must come," said Mrs. Maple; and in a
minute or two Marion came in, wondering not a little why she had been
called, and what could be the matter.
"You were at the theatre last night, Marion, and this is a policeman
come to search for some stolen property," said Mrs. Maple.
Marion saw it would be useless to deny the charge now, and did not
attempt it. "I know we were at the theatre last night," she said, "but
I have nothing but what is my own;" and she handed her keys at once to
the policeman.
"All right, young woman; but whether I find anything or not you must
come with me to answer a few questions with the other prisoners when
they are brought before the magistrate to-morrow morning."
"The other prisoners!" gasped Marion, now turning as pale as her
mistress and Kate.
"Ah, the fine friends you were with last night. One or two of them are
well-known gaol birds, and the rest are not much better."
Marion looked at Kate and then at her mistress, as the policeman
proceeded to turn out her box.
But Kate had not spoken since she saw the watches taken out of her bag,
and sat staring in a sort of dazed stupor at what was going on.
"Kate, why don't you speak and tell them we were not with thieves?"
said Marion indignantly.
But Kate shook her head. "I don't know where they came from," she said.
"But you know William Minn is a very respectable young man," said
Marion, reproachfully.
But Kate did not seem to hear, and when the policeman told her to put
on her bonnet and shawl she did not attempt to move. But she let
Marion put them on for her, and then went downstairs with the rest, but
said not a word in explanation of how the watches came into her bag.
Marion was crying bitterly now, and vehemently declaring her own and
her cousin's innocence, but Kate did not cry or say a word, and the
policeman looked at her in some alarm as he went to the door to send a
colleague who was in waiting to fetch a cab to remove his prisoners.
Crying he was used to, but he did not understand this silence, and knew
not what to think of it.
He told Mrs. Maple while he was waiting for the cab where he was going
to take the girls, and that Marion's father would be permitted to see
them if he came to the prison in the course of the day. They would be
examined before the magistrate the next morning with the other
prisoners who had been taken at the theatre, and perhaps by that time
Kate would confess who had given her the watches. But, alas! before
the next morning Kate had to be removed to the prison infirmary, and
her mother was sent for by Marion's father, who was so overwhelmed with
trouble at what had befallen his daughter and niece that he hardly knew
what to do.
Kate was soon seriously ill, for the shock had brought on an attack of
brain fever, and during her wild ramblings and half incoherent talk her
nurses heard a good deal of how Mrs. Maple had been deceived and robbed
by her trusted shop-woman, but no word about the watches found in her
possession did Kate ever utter.
By the time Mrs. Haydon reached London the first examination of the
prisoners was over, and Kate was so far exculpated from the charge
brought against her, for one of the principal thieves voluntarily
stated that the girls had nothing to do with the robbery--the watches
had been dropped into the open bag without Kate's knowledge, when the
alarm was first raised, and this fact was so far borne out by the
policeman, who stated how readily Kate had handed him the bag, saying
she had it with her at the theatre. Mrs. Maple was also present to
give the girls a good character, but this was somewhat modified by the
confession of William Minn, who, being pressed by the magistrate, gave
a full account of his acquaintance with the girls, and how he and his
friends had been supplied with pastry at Mrs. Maple's expense, by the
two foolish girls. Marion denied nothing now. Her only anxiety seemed
to be to screen Kate as much as she could, and she declared that Kate
had been led into doing what she did by her direction.
But it was small comfort to Mrs. Haydon to hear that her daughter had
been led to do wrong through the influence of her cousin. The shame
and disgrace of her darling daughter having been in prison so bowed her
with woe that, added to the bitter pain of not being able to nurse her
in her illness, almost laid her on a bed of sickness. Marion was
released, and returned home some days before Kate could be removed from
the infirmary, and a more unhappy household than that can scarcely be
imagined. Marion had, of course, lost her situation and her character
too, and was so crushed in spirit that she did not need the reproaches
of her brothers and sisters to make her feel the shame of her position
more keenly.
Bitter as her aunt had felt against her for leading Kate astray as she
had done, she could not but pity the poor girl, and reflect, too, that
Kate was, after all, more to blame than Marion, for she had been more
carefully taught than her cousin.
At last Kate was able to be removed from the infirmary to her uncle's
house, but she felt little joy or hope at the thought of getting better.
"I don't deserve to get better, mother," she whispered, when her mother
was trying to coax her to take a little beef-tea. "I know where I have
been all this time, and why you could not come to be with me always.
Oh, mother, mother!" and Kate covered her face with her hands and
sobbed so violently that her mother grew quite alarmed.
"Hush, hush, Kate, you must be quiet, or you will make yourself worse,
and if you are not fit to live how can you be fit to die?" said her
mother, firmly.
Kate shuddered, but checked her sobs. "Oh, mother, I was so afraid I
should, and I'm not--I'm not fit to die. I have been such a wicked
girl, mother. I did not steal the watches, but I have done things
quite as bad--I've deceived everybody, mother."
"And yourself too," said Mrs. Haydon.
"How could I do that, mother? I knew all the time that I was doing
wrong."
"Of course you did, my dear, but you had begun to deceive yourself long
before you came to London, and that was when the mischief began. I
think I have been to blame, too, perhaps, for I was proud of my
truthful, upright girl, and may have let you hear me say more than was
good for you to hear and you grew proud and self-righteous as a
Pharisee."
"And now, now I am the worst girl living," sobbed Kate. "Oh, mother,
I've thought of it all the while I was in prison. I, a Sunday scholar,
in prison," she repeated with a shudder. "I have been a shame and
disgrace to my class and teacher as well as you, mother, but I've
sinned against God worst of all. Oh, mother, will He ever forgive me
do you think?"
"Yes, Kate; He will forgive anything you have done or can do, for the
sake of His dear Son, and if you are spared--as I hope and trust you
may be--you must live a very different life in future. You thought you
were strong enough and good enough before and did not need His grace.
You never felt that you were a sinner needing the blood of Christ to
cleanse and pardon you, but now----"
"Oh, mother, mother, my sins are too great," broke in Kate. "How could
the Lord Jesus forgive such a wicked girl as I am?"
"Because He loved you--loved you so much as to die for you, Kate. My
dear, you have thought so much of your own goodness that it is hard for
you to believe now that God can forgive you without your deserving it;
but was it as hard for you to believe that I would forgive you?"
Kate shook her head. "I knew you would forgive though I never could
deserve it, because you always loved me so much," she said slowly.
"My dear, God loves you more than I do, with a wiser, purer, better
love than even mine, and He wants you to believe it now, Kate, and hope
in Him. I know you have been so weak and foolish that you cannot have
any hope of yourself; but hope in God, my darling, confess all your
sins to Him, tell Him the weakness and folly you have been guilty of,
and ask His pardon for the past and strength and grace to live a new
life in Christ for the future."
"I have prayed that He would pardon me, but oh, mother, how can I hope,
how can I believe? He is so great, so holy."
"By taking Him at His word. If I told you anything, Kate, do you think
it would be honouring me to say, 'You are so good, mother, I can't
believe half you say?' Yet this is the way you are speaking of God; He
says, 'Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out,' and 'Jesus
Christ came into the world to save sinners.' Mind, Kate, it was Jesus
Christ, not the sinner's repentance, the tears he shed, the grief he
felt, but Jesus Christ, who died 'the Just for the unjust.'"
After this talk with her mother Kate grew more calm and less unhappy.
The prospect of going home, however, so different from what Kate had
anticipated that return would be, was anything but pleasant now.
"Oh, mother, how can I meet Miss Eldon again?' she whispered one day.
"It will be hard for you, I know, but you must bear it, Kate, as part,
at least, of the punishment of your sins. Sorrow and shame must follow
sin, and though God forgives us He does not--cannot take away the
consequences of them. They are bitter enough to you and poor Marion,
too, for situations and character are both lost, and it is not easy
work to regain a good character when once it has been lost."
Kate's future was, of course, a great anxiety to her mother, especially
after they got home and Kate grew stronger. News of her disgrace had
somehow got wind in the village and many of her former schoolfellows
shunned her, especially Esther, who said she had her own character to
take care of.
Gentle, brave, Mary Green, now the trusted servant of Lady Hazeldean,
however, contrived to see her old schoolfellow as often as she could;
and Miss Eldon, convinced of her repentance, offered at last to receive
her as kitchenmaid in her own house--a situation Kate would have
despised before, but which she was very grateful to get now. She also
asked the lady to help her cousin if she could, and at her request a
friend took Marion into her service, where for the first time she had
the opportunity of learning those truths Kate had been taught before
she went to London. Marion profited by what she was taught, and she
and Kate both became useful and honoured women, loved and respected by
all who knew them, and few remembered now that they had once been in
prison or passed through such a shameful and bitter experience as
"KATE'S ORDEAL."