Читать книгу The Manor School - L. T. Meade - Страница 10

Table of Contents

Rosy, who was in some ways so very much wiser than Christian herself, had assured the young girl that her parents would not be at all frightened by her running away.

"They won't know anything about it," argued Rosy, "until they get a letter from your own self; and when you tell them, and they see it in your handwriting, that you are well and happy, they will be as pleased as Punch. I know it," continued Rosy, with emphasis, "for when I am real happy, even if it aint the very thing mother might have liked beforehand, she can't help getting a sort of delighted look on her face. It's the way of mothers, even if they are harsh ones; so think what it will mean to your father and mother, Christian, who love you like anything."

Christian was so much interested, and her mind was so fully made up, that she listened to Rosy's specious words, and even composed in her own mind the little letter she would presently write; a passionate letter, full of love, but at the same time with a beseeching tone running through its depths; the letter in which she would assure her father and mother that she would be the straightest, most upright, most unselfish, noble sort of tambourine-girl in the world.

After her father had left the room Christian lay still on the sofa, her arms around her mother's neck and her head buried against Mrs. Mitford's soft white neck. She had ceased to sob. She had almost ceased to feel.

By and by Mrs. Mitford roused the child.

"The years will pass quickly; your father and I will think of you, and the years will go by with lightning speed. Soon we shall be together again."

"Oh, no, mother," answered Christian; "it will be a long time—a long time!"

"You think so, dearest, but you are mistaken. Now, go to bed, darling; I daren't allow you to trouble yourself any longer. You must sleep, Christian, for my sake, or we shall both be ill to-morrow when we most want to be fresh and bright."

"Suppose, mother, I were to write you; when would you get the letter?"

"You had better write straight to Bombay. Your father and I will spend some weeks there before we proceed to Persia. You can write when you are settled at school. Here is the address."

Mrs. Mitford opened her desk, took out an envelope carefully addressed and stamped, and put it into the young girl's hand.

"Now, good-night, dearest. You will soon sleep sound. The worst will be over before long."

Christian left the room without another word. She scarcely kissed her mother as she parted from her. All of a sudden her conscience began to prick her. She dared not listen to it, however; there were others involved in the mad game she was playing. Whatever happened, she must go on with it. She got quickly into bed, covered her face with the clothes, and pretended to sleep. She was alone in the dark; even nurse had left her.

The house quieted down. Mr. and Mrs. Mitford were to leave at seven in the morning. Christian would not leave until nine, her train not going from Paddington until a few minutes to ten. Just before she dropped asleep she resolved, whatever happened, to be up in time to rush down to kiss her father and mother; but, what with her distress and the fatigue which her excitement had caused her, she slept heavily until nurse called her. She started up then with a cry. All that was to take place flashed upon her. There would be no nurse to-morrow morning; only a little room in the slums, and Rosy her companion. Well, even that was better than a strict-discipline school.

"Nursey," she cried, "what is the time?"

"Twenty minutes to eight, deary. You will have to leave soon after nine. I didn't want to wake you a minute before the time."

"But have they gone—have they gone?"

"Of course, darling; they left at seven. They came up, both of them, and kissed you. It went hard to see them, particularly my master. Ah! he's a good man, but maybe stern and a bit absent-minded; but he is a good man when all is said and told."

Christian did not say a word. The knowledge that her father and mother were really gone lay on her spirits as a crushing weight. Then she began quite wonderfully to cheer up. The worst was over. The pain of leaving the old house, the wonderful dream-attic where the happiest time of her childhood had been spent, nurse, the servants, Miss Thompson, was all as nothing.

She got up and dressed. She thought with a smile, how to-morrow she would be wearing very different clothes. She was not at all nervous; she was sure that Rosy's and her great plan would succeed.

Breakfast was over in a short space of time. Christian's private money had been put into a little bag under her skirt. Nurse had made the bag for her; it had a string attached to it, and nurse had shown the young girl how she ought to tie it round her waist.

"You are to get more money from time to time," said nurse; "and once a year I am to come down to Cornwall to see you. The place is called Penwerne, and is near to the town of Tregellick. They say the house is that beautiful! But there, darling, do eat something!"

Christian ate and drank. She then bade the servants good-by; she hugged Miss Thompson, but her last most fervent embrace was for nurse. Nurse cried, but Christian did not shed a tear. She had said good-by to her attic the night before, and had determined not to visit it again.

At last she was seated in the cab. Nurse and Miss Thompson promised to write to her, and Miss Neil, looking stiff and somewhat severe, desired the cabman to proceed, and they were off. The house in Russell Square seemed to vanish like a dream; they turned a corner and went rapidly in the direction of Paddington.

Christian scarcely spoke. There was a cold sensation round her heart; she wondered if Miss Neil would give her a chance to escape. She was soon relieved on that score.

"As soon as we get to the station, Christian," said her companion, "I will have your luggage registered. You have still a great deal of luggage, although one large box was sent off last week. I will see it registered, and you will stand by me. But we must get our tickets first."

Christian longed to ask a question or two, but her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth. She was so terribly afraid of betraying herself that she was silent.

They reached the great station, and Miss Neil, accompanied by her young charge, approached the ticket-office. A string of people were waiting their turn. Miss Neil bought a single first-class ticket for Christian and a return for herself. A porter was standing by with Christian's voluminous luggage piled up on his truck. Miss Neil and he entered into an animated conversation. They moved a little aside. Christian watched them, standing stock-still herself as though she were turned into stone.

Suddenly a wild desire to be going quietly down to Cornwall took possession of her. She considered for a minute how easy it would be for her to abandon her scheme, to stay by Miss Neil's side, to enter the carriage which she had selected, to be conscious of the fact that the luggage was in the luggage-van. There was nothing against her carrying out this sudden wish—nothing at all—except Rosy's disappointment and Judith Ford's annoyance. Christian would be going to the school selected by her father and mother, and all would be well.

"I could send Rosy a letter through nurse," thought the young girl, "and I would send her a whole sovereign in a postal order. She could give some of it to Judith, and there would be an end of the matter. I think I will give it up," was her next thought. "Now that it is so near, it seems too awful to go through."

But just then Miss Neil turned and spoke sharply to her:

"Don't stay back there, Christian; come to my side. And pray, don't stand on one foot in that ugly way. Do hold yourself erect; I hate the manner in which girls hold themselves nowadays. Thank goodness, when you are at Penwerne you will be taught that and other matters! Yes, it is a good thing you are going to that severe school. What did you say?" she continued, turning to the porter. "Over weight? But we have first-class tickets. One pound to pay? Preposterous!"

"Well, madam, I assure you——" began the man.

He and Miss Neil entered into a sharp dispute, while Christian glided away. She would carry out her scheme; Miss Neil herself had decided it.

Two minutes later she was in the affectionate embrace of Rosy Latimer, while Judith Ford, a rough-looking girl with a freckled face and high cheek-bones, stood near. She wore a showy hat with a lot of cheap red velvet on it. Her jacket was too small for her, and her gloves had holes in them. Christian scarcely glanced at Judith Ford.

"Come, quick!" said Rosy. "Oh, aint you a darling? Aint we going to have a good time? Oh, Christian! you don't know what Judith has done for us."

"Don't you tell," cried Judith. "You always do let the cat out of the bag. We'll let Christian see for herself."

"Christian," thought the young girl, "Christian. Have I come to be called that by a girl of the Judith Ford type?"

The three girls ran down a side street, and a moment later Judith beckoned to the driver of a decrepit-looking cab with a broken-down horse to draw up to the edge of the pavement. They jumped in, and off they went. Christian tried to shut away from her imagination the sound of Miss Neil's excited, terrified voice when she missed her. She tried to shut away from her mental vision the thought of Miss Neil at all; she would forget her now. She would also forget the school at Penwerne, and the cozy first-class carriage. She would even cease to remember her parents, who must now be crossing from Dover to Calais. She would forget everything but the great, marvelous, wonderful adventure itself. Oh, how often during the last few days had she pictured it! Now she was living through it in reality. It was a big, big story—a wild, thrilling thing—she was about to live through it. She had been an imaginary heroine so often; now she would be a real one. Oh, yes, she was safe; Miss Neil could not possibly find her. She was safe, and it was—yes, delicious.

But as this last thought came to her Judith's very sharp voice sounded on her ears, and Judith's emphatic nudge poked itself into her side.

"Why don't you talk?" cried Judith. "Be you the sulky sort, as hugs their grief to 'em and hasn't a word to say to their kind friends? Oh, won't we have a time to-night! You've got the chink all right, haven't you?"

"The what?" asked Christian.

Judith burst into a loud laugh.

"The chink," she cried. "Why, Rosy, is she such a softy as not to know what chink means? We'll teach her a few things, you and me; won't we, Rosy?"

"Miss Christian knows a lot of things," said Rosy. Her voice sounded quite refined in Christian's ears. "She knows ever so much that we don't know. We've got to treat her with respect," continued Rosy.

"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Judith, with another loud laugh. "We're all in the same boat now."

Christian looked at her with a growing terror.

"And here we be," continued that young person. "Now then, cabby, look spry. There aint no luggage, so you must let us off cheap. How much is the fare, cabby? Don't you try to humbug me. I know a thing or two; as much as you do."

Judith began to haggle loudly. The cabman answered; Judith overtopped his voice with her screaming one. Poor Christian felt that the most strict-discipline school on earth would be paradise compared to her present surroundings. But, after all, Rosy had tact. She came up to her little companion and whispered in her ear:

"Judith aint going to stay, so don't you think it. She's just showing off, and no more. I've seen the room, and it's quite nice; and if we don't like it we can change, for we have plenty of money. Don't fret, Miss Christian; I can't abear to see that sort of look on your face."

"Come along now," said Judith, having settled her dispute with the cabman. "I lead; you follow. I'm leader in this game."

She entered a hideous, dirty, tumble-down house. Christian held her skirts tightly round her; she could not bear that they should touch the filthy walls. She scarcely liked to tread on the black and broken stairs.

They went up flight after flight, and at last entered a small attic at the top of the house. Compared to the stairs, it was fairly comfortable, but poor Christian had never imagined that anyone could live in a room of this sort.

"I was thinking," said Rosy, who was watching her little companion earnestly, "that you and me, Miss Christian might go out presently and buy a few things. You see, Judith," she added, turning to the other girl, "Miss Christian has been accustomed to a very different life."

"It will do her a sight of good to know how the poor live," was Judith's remark. "But as to buying things, you and she had better lie low for a day or two, for they're sure to make no end of a fuss, and have the police after her, and all the rest. It wouldn't do to have the police after us," continued Judith, fixing her malicious eyes full on Christian's white face, "for running away is a crime punished by law. You gets locked up for running away, and a pretty long sight of prison too, to say nought of the disgrace. You wouldn't like that, would you, miss?"

"It isn't true," said Christian. "I don't believe it."

"Oh, don't you, miss? Well, I'm sorry for you. There's a woman in the next room—a very nice friendly woman; her name is Mrs. Carter; she helped me to tidy up the room this morning. We'll ask her."

Before Christian could prevent her, Judith bounded into the adjoining room, and came out accompanied by a tall woman with a head of tousled hair, curl-papers all round her forehead, a broken bodice, and a red skirt. This woman had heard from Judith all about the proposed plan, and thought it a very fine joke indeed.

"This young lady is Miss Christian Mitford—the Honorable Miss Christian Mitford," said Judith, laughing. "You'll have to drop your curtsy to her, Mrs. Carter."

"I aint a-going to drop no curtsies to anybody who lives in this house," said Mrs. Carter.

Christian walked to the window and turned her back on the other inmates of the room. Oh, she was punished! was it true what that awful girl said, that if she were caught now the law of the land would put her in prison? She wished the ground would open and swallow her up. Oh, where was the delight and excitement of the adventure that had looked so fair before it began?

"You just tell her plain out what's the truth, Mrs. Carter," said Judith.

"About what, my dear?" said Mrs. Carter.

"Aint it the case, ma'am, that if you run away from your lawful guardians, you being, so to speak, a minor—that means under age, miss," she added, nodding to Christian—"aint it the case that you are locked up?"

Mrs. Carter looked hard at Judith. She then glanced at Christian. Christian was well dressed; beyond doubt she was rich. She must frighten her and then soothe her, for get money out of her she should, and would and could.

"Miss," she said, "I'm sorry for yer. My heart bleeds for yer, miss. Whoever made yer get into this scrape? It's true, miss; it's true. It happened to my first cousin. She was well born, miss—not like me. Her parents were most genteel. When a child she ran away from school, and for two years she was in a reformatory, miss—a prison-school. She was indeed, miss. She never come to any good; and she's in prison again now, miss, serving her time for burglarious action."

Christian had not the slightest idea what burglarious action was, but it had an awful sound. Her heart stood still with agony. It was scarcely likely that both Mrs. Carter and Judith were wrong. Mrs. Carter had her facts so glib, and she had such a wicked knowing look.

"I'm sorry for yer, miss, but the only thing for yer is to keep tight in here; and if the police come you can hide under my bed, miss, and you're kindly welcome. And if there's anything I can do for you young ladies in the way of hot water for making a drop of tea, or anything of that sort, you have but to tell me; for it's neighborly we'll be, miss, and you won't regret it so much when you know, so to speak, the in and out of our lives. We may be poor, but we have our good p'ints, and our moments of 'joyment too."

"You clear out now," said Judith, pushing Mrs. Carter towards the door. She shut it, and then came up to Christian.

"You'd best give me a little of the chink," she said, "and I'll go out and buy food for us all. I can show my nose as much as ever I like, for I haint run away; but you and Rose must keep tight, for if you show yourselves it's the reformatory school you'll get into. It's the reformatory school; that's the punishment for you."