CELIA'S ACCIDENT.
IN a corner of the rock garden at the Moat House was a rustic seat
beneath an arbour, where Celia sat one warm, July evening, her fair
head bent over a limp, paper-covered volume, whilst several books
of a more substantial make lay by her side.
Presumably she had retired to this sheltered nook to learn her
lessons for the following day, but actually to read by stealth the
entrancing story, "Lady Isabella's Treachery," which Lulu Tillotson
had surreptitiously brought to the Moat House for her perusal.
The lesson books lay unheeded as Celia followed the fortunes of Lady
Isabella, who was represented as a woman of wonderful fascination;
and she was deep in the account of her jealousy of a beautiful but
penniless girl, a dependent in Lady Isabella's household, and was
reaching a most exciting part in the story, when she heard Joy's
voice calling her by name. Hastily closing the novel, she thrust it
into a cranny between two rocks at the back of the arbour; and,
seizing one of the lesson books, opened it at random, and pretended
to be deeply engrossed in its contents.
"Celia! Celia! Where are you?"
"Here. What do you want, Joy? I'm busy learning my lessons for
to-morrow."
The lie rose glibly to Celia's lips. Time was when she would have
scorned to speak anything save the truth. But two months had elapsed
since Mrs. Wallis and her little daughters had taken up their abode
at the Moat House, and those two months had not improved Celia's
character. She had longed to live in a beautiful house like her
present home, to have every comfort and luxury; and yet, now, when
all these good things were hers to enjoy, she could not fully
appreciate them for thinking of the time when she might have to give
them up. If she was certain she would remain at the Moat House,
she thought she would be perfectly happy; and she tried her utmost
to ingratiate herself with Sir Jasper, and succeeded so well that he
always looked forward to the evenings when, her lessons finished,
she would be at leisure to devote an hour or so to him.
"Where's my pretty Celia?" he would ask, and Celia would smile, and
give him her arm to lean upon as he hobbled up and down the terrace,
or would take him for a little walk in the rock garden. She had
to sacrifice her own inclination often to wait upon him; but it was
not an unselfish motive that urged her to do so; she desired to make
her presence indispensable to him. At first she had been gratified
by his preference for her society to Joy's; but she was beginning
to find the old man a great tie; especially when, as on the present
occasion, she wanted her leisure time for herself, so she looked up
with a slight frown on her face as Joy came running towards her,
followed by a liver-and-white spaniel puppy named Wag.
"Well?" she said, impatiently. "What is it?"
"Haven't you finished your lessons yet?" Joy exclaimed. "I learnt
mine directly after tea, and Wag and I have been having such a game!
I came to tell you that Miss Pring is here. Will you come in to see
her?"
"No; not unless mother sent you to fetch me. Is Uncle Jasper in the
drawing-room?"
"Yes. He asked for you, so I thought I'd better find you."
"What a nuisance!" Celia's tone was decidedly cross. "I never get any
time to myself. Need I go in, do you think?"
"Shall I tell Uncle Jasper you have not quite finished learning your
lessons?" Joy suggested.
Celia assented, and away went Joy. The minute her sister was out of
sight, Celia turned round in search of the novel she had hidden; but,
to her great amazement, it had disappeared. Whilst she was wondering
what could possibly have become of it, the sound of a delighted bark
broke upon her ears, and the puppy gambolled past her, shaking and
worrying what looked like a bundle of loose papers, but was, as the
little girl rightly guessed, the book she was in search of.
She darted after the dog, calling to him softly and insinuatingly:
"Wag! Wag! Good dog! Come here! Come here!"
But Wag took no heed. He was having a splendid time, for the novel,
in its limp paper cover with its fluttering leaves, proved a capital
plaything. First the puppy hid behind one rock, then another,
as Celia chased him till she was breathless, allowing her to get
nearly within reach of him, and then darting away again.
"Wag, you little wretch, come here, sir!" Celia cried, her voice
changing its tone, and becoming stern. "Come here, this minute,
you bad dog!"
But the bad dog merely circled around with the novel in his mouth;
and then, as she made a grab at him he doubled suddenly, and was off
in the opposite direction. Celia did not follow him, however;
she retired behind a big bush, and waited to see if he would return.
Presently peeping out from behind her place of shelter, she saw the
puppy coming back, evidently in search of her, and suddenly darting
out in the hope of catching him unawares, her foot slipped on a loose
stone, and she fell with some force to the ground.
[Illustration: "HER FOOT SLIPPED ON A LOOSE STONE, AND SHE FELL
WITH SOME FORCE ON THE GROUND."]
It was with difficulty that she repressed a cry of pain as she
endeavoured to rise, for she had twisted her ankle in her fall, and
now found she could scarcely move. Looking around, she espied the
puppy at a little distance, watching her with roguish brown eyes,
whilst he contentedly chewed the loose leaves of "Lady Isabella's
Treachery." Celia burst into tears at the sight, realizing how
incapable she was of getting possession of the book, and knowing that
her mother would be extremely angry with her for having borrowed it
from Lulu; not that she had ever been forbidden to read anything
of the kind, but her conscience told her that such literature would
not meet with her mother's approval. She covered her face with her
hands and wept bitterly, overcome with mingled emotions.
Meanwhile, Joy had returned to the drawing-room, and reported, in all
good faith, that Celia had not quite finished learning her lessons,
but would be in presently. Sir Jasper, looking brighter than usual,
was talking to Miss Pring and Mrs. Wallis; by-and-by he suggested
a stroll in the rock garden, and thither they accordingly repaired,
Sir Jasper leaning on his niece's arm, whilst Miss Pring followed
with Joy. So it was they came upon Celia, seated forlornly upon the
ground, indulging in floods of tears.
"My dear child!" cried Mrs. Wallis, whilst Sir Jasper uttered an
exclamation of dismay, and Joy ran to her sister's side, beseeching
her to say what was amiss, and Miss Pring surveyed the scene
in silence. "What has happened? Are you hurt?"
"My foot!" gasped Celia. "I think I have twisted it! I was running
after Wag and I fell!"
All looked at the puppy. Wearied out its gambols, he now lay quietly,
with the novel between his paws. Whilst Mrs. Wallis was examining
Celia's injured foot, and assuring herself not much damage had been
done, Miss Pring stepped up to the little dog and took possession
of the cause of all the trouble.
"What has he been destroying?" Sir Jasper asked. "I trust he has not
done much mischief."
"He has torn up a cheap, sensational novel, that's all," Miss Pring
replied.
"Where did he get it, I wonder? It is not yours, I suppose, my dear?"
Sir Jasper inquired of Celia.
"Oh, no, it is not mine!" Celia answered quickly, glancing up with
tearful blue eyes.
"Probably it belongs to one of the servants," Miss Pring remarked.
"'Lady Isabella's Treachery!'" she read out. "Humph! Flashy,
low-class literature!" As she spoke she happened to glance at Joy,
who had suddenly turned crimson. She knew Joy was exceedingly fond
of reading, and a suspicion crossed her mind that the book might be
hers. Sir Jasper also noticed the younger sister's evident confusion,
and he addressed her so sharply that she started, and trembled.
"Is the book yours, Joy?"
"Oh, no, Uncle Jasper!"
"You never saw it before?" he questioned, suspiciously.
"Never!" she answered, promptly.
"Then, why, pray, are you looking so guilty?" Sir Jasper persisted,
whilst Mrs. Wallis turned her attention from Celia to Joy
in surprise. "If you know nothing about the book, what is the meaning
of your confused manner?"
His keen eyes were searching her face, noting her painful blushes,
her uneasiness. She did not like to say that she had recognised
the title of the book from having heard Lulu Tillotson mention it,
for she guessed that Lulu had lent it to Celia, and that Celia meant
to keep the fact a secret. It was very wrong of Celia; but Joy felt
she could not get her sister into trouble, especially when Celia's
tearful eyes appealed to her to keep silence.
"I hope you are not trying to deceive us, Joy," Sir Jasper said,
severely. "If you have been tempted to read this silly, sensational
story—I can judge the class tale it is, and I daresay it fascinated
you—why not confess it?"
"I have not been reading it, Uncle Jasper," Joy replied, steadily,
in a low, pained tone. "I never saw it in my life before."
Sir Jasper turned from her impatiently, and bent over Celia, who
still sat on the ground. Miss Pring now came forward and assisted
Mrs. Wallis in lifting the girl to her feet, and between them
they bore her into the house, and laid her on the drawing-room sofa.
Joy timidly offered Sir Jasper her arm, but he declined it curtly,
and retraced his footsteps alone, whilst Joy lingered in the garden,
a prey to feelings of mingled indignation and grief. Why could not
Celia have spoken out, and spared her Sir Jasper's suspicion? It was
indeed hard to be so misjudged.
She took up a position from which she had a view of the front door,
and presently saw Miss Pring come out, and look about her as though
in search of someone. Joy immediately hastened to join her.
"Ah, Joy, there you are!" Miss Pring exclaimed, in her deep voice.
"Will you walk as far as the gate with me, my dear? Your mother is
bathing Celia's foot, I don't think she requires your help. Celia has
sprained her ankle, and will be a prisoner in the house for some
days. What's become of that mischievous puppy?"
"I don't know," Joy replied. She glanced timidly up at her
companion's dark, plain face wistfully, as she asked: "You don't
believe I'd been reading that book, I hope?"
"No, I do not."
"Oh, thank you for saying that!" Joy cried gratefully. "Indeed I am
not a storyteller."
"But you appeared guilty enough when Sir Jasper spoke to you about it
to make anyone think you were the real owner of the book," Miss Pring
continued. "I am not going to ask you why that was, because you
evidently do not mean to tell, but, do you think it is right
to shield someone at your own expense?"
Joy was silent, looking, as she indeed was, very unhappy. She was
deeply indignant and hurt that Celia should have allowed her to be
misjudged. If Celia had only spoken out, and confessed that she had
been reading "Lady Isabella's Treachery," her mother would have
reproved her, and she would have been made to return the book
to Lulu, but there the matter would have ended; by keeping a cowardly
silence, she had thrown suspicion on Joy, and Joy rightly felt she
had been injured. It was balm to her wounded spirit to find that Miss
Pring accepted her word; she knew her mother would believe her too;
but not so Sir Jasper.
After she had parted from Miss Pring at the gate, she went straight
back to the house. On entering the hall she encountered her mother
coming from the drawing-room.
"Oh, my dear," Mrs. Wallis cried, "I have been wondering where you
were!" She laid a firm hand on her little daughter's shoulder, as she
asked: "Tell me truly, had you been reading that flashy novel?"
"No, mother, I had not," Joy answered steadily. "You know I never
told you a lie in my life. Oh, do believe me!"
"Most certainly I believe you, my dear. I never caught you in a
falsehood, or even knew you to prevaricate; but Uncle Jasper seemed
to think—no matter, he will find out your word is to be trusted."
"I know he believed I was telling stories," Joy said, blushing
painfully, "but I was not. I never heard him speak so sternly before,
and—and—it was so unjust!"
"And therefore very hard to bear."
Mrs. Wallis kissed Joy tenderly, and bade her not to trouble. Then
she told her to go into the drawing-room to Celia. Joy obeyed, and
found her sister alone, lying on the sofa, her face pale, and her
eyes slightly red.
"Does your foot hurt you much?" Joy asked.
"No, not much," Celia answered; "it is a great deal more comfortable
since mother bathed it. Joy, you've been crying!" she cried,
accusingly. As her sister made no response, she continued: "What made
you blush and look so confused when Uncle Jasper spoke to you about
'Lady Isabella's Treachery,' in the rock garden? Why couldn't you
have simply said you knew nothing about it?"
"Because I thought—I fancied—didn't you get the book from Lulu
Tillotson?"
"You don't know that I did, and if so, that was no reason why you
should have behaved in that stupid way. Really, Joy, you have only
yourself to blame that Uncle Jasper spoke to you so sharply."
"I don't mind how he spoke to me, if only I could make him believe
I told the truth. You ought to have told him the truth!" and Joy
flashed an indignant look at her sister. "It's very hard that
I should suffer on your account," she added, somewhat bitterly;
"Miss Pring believes in me, and so does mother, but Uncle Jasper
thinks I told him a falsehood."
"He will soon forget all about it," Celia said, soothingly. "You have
not told mother—"
"Don't fear! I've not been getting you into trouble," Joy
interrupted. The tears gathered in her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
"If anyone had told me you would treat me so shabbily I would not
have believed it!" she declared tragically, and without waiting
to hear Celia's response, she hurriedly left the room.