by L. T. Meade
take care of them, and of you. You must not think of what yourfather will do, you must simply think of what is right. The very momenthe comes in you must go and tell him what you have told me, that in amoment of impulse you took the money, that afterwards you were afraid totell him, that all the week von have been frightened, that this morningyour fears kept you away from him, but that now you wish him to know thetruth, and he--but never mind about him; he must know the truth."
"I can't, Angela, I can't. Oh, if only Jim were here!"
"Do you think I should do instead of Jim?"
"You?" exclaimed Penelope. "Oh, Angela! Angela!"
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
WRONG SET RIGHT.
Mr Carter hurried home about six o'clock. He had spent a busy day inNewcastle, and had gone through a few worries. He took the worries oflife hard. He was exacting on all nice points of honour, and one of hisclerks had deceived him. His mind, therefore, was especially sore as hesank back in the luxurious carriage which was to convey him back toCourt Prospect. Halfway back he also remembered the affair of thesovereign. The loss of the sovereign was a mere nothing, but the factthat one of his dependents could steal from a private purse kept in oneof his drawers, meant a great deal.
"Of course, it's that girl," he thought. "She's as bad in her way asyoung Hanson is in his. I am sorry for them both, of course, but as Isaid to Hanson, if he had told me that he was in money difficulties, Iwould have helped him out; but instead of that he thought he'd helphimself. Well, he has helped himself out of my service for ever; that'splain, that's only justice, and that girl, Betty Wren, if she doesn'tconfess, she'll go the same road; I vow it, and I'm a man who never yetbroke my word."
But as he got nearer to the house, more pleasurable thoughts succeededthe dismal ones. There was Jim--his eldest son, his pride, his boy. Hehad had a business letter from Jim that morning which had not arrived atCourt Prospect, but had been sent to his father's big offices inNewcastle, and in that letter it turned out that Jim had donesplendidly. He had acted with tact and diplomacy, and would soon beback again.
"Won't I give him a good time for this?" thought the father. "He is alad to be proud of. Hullo, though, who's that?"
He had turned into the avenue now; the horses were going under thebeautiful beech trees at a spanking trot, and a girl was coming slowlyto meet him.
"Why, if that isn't my own Pen," he said.
He was so amazed and startled that he pulled the check string, and thecarriage stopped.
"Hullo, Pen!" he said. "What in the name of wonder are you doing here?What is the matter? Here, jump in, child."
Pen obeyed.
"I want you, father," she spoke in a tremulous voice--"I want you tocome into the study the very minute you get home. I have something tosay to you."
Mr Carter turned round and gazed at Pen in surprise.
"Have you been ill?" he asked. "Why didn't you go with the others toWhitby?"
"I'll tell you when we get in the study."
He looked at her again, and a frown came between his brows. He did notknow why he was suddenly reminded of young Hanson and of Betty Wren, buthe was. Oh, of course it was all nonsense, his little Pen--and yet shekept her face averted.
Presently they reached the house. Her father helped her out of thecarriage.
"Now, come along, child," he said with a sort of gentle roughness. "Iguess by your manner that you have got into a bit of a scrape. I cannotmake out what it is, but you are right to come to the old father; theold father will help you, if he can. What on earth are you tremblingfor?"
"Oh, come at once to the study, father."
Pen pulled him along. He was tired, he had gone through a hard day; hewanted his customary cup of tea; he wanted to go into the garden andtalk to Archer. He loved his garden, he enjoyed counting his peachesand gloating over his fruit trees, and considering how he could makemore and more money out of the old place. He was terribly keen aboutmoney making. He was interested in money, it was a power, and he meantto have it whatever else he failed in.
But there was Pen, why had she not gone with the others to Whitby?Something ailed her; she was his youngest. He was fonder of Penelopethan of any of his other children, except Jim. Jim, of course, wasaltogether on a different platform; there was no one like Jim in theworld. It was worth struggling hard to make a fortune for a boy likeJim.
So he hurried as fast as Pen could wish, and presently she burst openthe door of his study. There, standing by the window, was thewhite-robed vision which had so startled, so stirred, so moved Penherself a few hours ago. The white vision came forward slowly, and MrCarter looked with dazzled eyes at the girl he most wished to know,Angela St Just. She was in his study, she was coming to meet him.
"I must introduce myself," she said. "You have, of course, met myfather in business matters, Mr Carter, but I want to see you on quite adifferent subject."
"Miss St Just," said the startled man.
"Yes, I am Angela St Just, Penelope's friend."
Mr Carter turned and looked at Pen as though he suddenly loved herpassionately.
"Penelope's friend; and I trust I may be able to help her through arather difficult matter."
"Now, what in the name of fortune does this mean?" said Mr Carter."You here, Miss St Just, you here in your old home, when they said thatneither you nor your father could abide to come near the place, and yetyou are here! What does it mean? I don't understand."
"Penelope will explain," said Angela very gently. Then Penelope cameforward. She made a valiant struggle, and after a minute or two somewords came to her lips.
"Clay says that perhaps you will kill me. I don't think you can forgiveme. Father, it was I who took that sovereign out of your purse--thepurse you always put money in to pay the men's wages. I took it in themiddle of the week, father."
Mr Carter had forgotten Angela by this time. What was this--what wasthe matter? He was so absorbed, so stunned by Pen's words that he couldscarcely contain himself. He made one step forward, seized her hand,drew her to the light.
"What?" he said. "Say those words again."
"I took your sovereign."
"You--_you_, my child, stole my money!"
Angela now moved slowly across the room and put her hand on Pen'sshoulder.
"She is very, very sorry," said Angela. "She feels heartbroken; shefailed just in the one thing, she had not the courage to confess. Butbecause you discovered the theft she would not go to Whitby to-day; shewas determined to stay and brave it out."
"And she came," said Pen, "and she told me that I ought to tell you."
There was no word about Jim. Pen had determined that Jim was to be leftout of the matter.
But just at that moment there was a noise in the hall, a hurried step, acheerful tone, and Jim himself burst into the room.
"Oh, father! You here, Pen? Oh, my darling, I am ever so sorry!Father, I forgot all about it in the other excitement, but it's allright, it's all right. We're all right, everything is all right, and--and Pen told me. I said I would speak to you, but when you sent me awayin such a hurry, I forgot, and Pen, I suppose she was frightened. Pen,can you forgive me?"
"Then you never got my letter?" said Pen. "I sent it to the Holroyds',I knew you were there."
Mr Carter looked troubled. He went up and took Jim's hand.
"I am ever so puzzled," he said. "I accused that girl, Betty Wren, andit seems--but tell me the whole story, Pen. I must hear it frombeginning to end. Then I shall be able to decide."
So Pen told him the story. Angela stood very gravely by. She stood alittle bit in the background, and the shadow of the great curtain partlyconcealed her face, but the light of evening fell across her whitedress, so that her whole appearance was like that of a pitying angel,who was waiting for the moment when the sinner was to be forgiven. MrCarter looked from one of his children to the other, then at Angela.
"You have pretty high ideas of honour," he said. "
You know what thissort of thing means. Now, tell me what you would do if you were in myshoes."
"There is no doubt whatever about what you will do," said Angela.
"You think, don't you--I believe saints always do--that sin ought to bepunished."
"We have the Divine Example," said Angela in a low tone.
Mr Carter looked at her.
"You said a strange thing a minute ago; you said you were Penelope'sfriend," he remarked.
"So I am, from this day forward, as long as we both live."
"You are in rare luck," said Carter, looking gloomily at Pen, "to