by L. T. Meade
myself that one last treat--now it isover. Good-night."
Priscilla left the room--she did not even kiss Maggie as she generallydid at parting for the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
A MYSTERIOUS EPISODE.
When she was alone, Maggie Oliphant sat down in her favourite chair, andcovered her face with her hands. "It is horrible to listen to storieslike that," she murmured under her breath. "Such stories get on thenerves. I shall not sleep to-night. Fancy any people callingthemselves ladies wanting meat, wanting clothes, wanting warmth. Oh, myGod! this is horrible. Poor Prissie! Poor brave Prissie!" Maggiestarted from her chair and paced the length of her room once or twice."I must help these people," she said; "I must help this Aunt Raby, andthose three little sisters. Penywern Cottage shall no longer be withoutcoal, and food, and warmth. How shall I do this? One thing is quiteevident--Prissie must not know. Prissie is as proud as I am. How shallI manage this?" She clasped her hands, her brow was contracted with thefulness of her thought. After a long while she left her room, and,going to the other end of the long corridor, knocked at Nancy Banister'sdoor. Nancy was within. It did not take Maggie long to tell the talewhich she had just heard from Priscilla's lips. Prissie had told hersimple story with force, but it lost nothing in Maggie's hands. She hada fine command of language, and she drew a picture of such pathos thatNancy's honest blue eyes filled with tears.
"That dear little Prissie!" she exclaimed.
"I don't know that she is dear," said Maggie. "I don't profess quite tounderstand her; however, that is not the point. The poverty at PenywernCottage is an undoubted fact. It is also a fact that Prissie is forcedto give up her classical education. She shall not! she has a genius forthe old tongues. Now, Nancy, help me; use your common sense on mybehalf. How am I to send money to Penywern Cottage?"
Nancy thought for several minutes.
"I have an idea," she exclaimed at last.
"What is that?"
"I believe Mr Hammond could help us."
Maggie coloured.
"How?" she asked. "Why should Geoffrey Hammond be dragged intoPriscilla's affairs? What can he possibly know about Penywern Cottageand the people who live in it?"
"Only this," said Nancy: "I remember his once talking about that part ofDevonshire where Prissie's home is, and saying that his uncle has aparish there. Mr Hammond's uncle is the man to help us."
Miss Oliphant was silent for a moment.
"Very well," she said; "will you write to Mr Hammond and ask him forhis uncle's address?"
"Why should I do this, Maggie? Geoffrey Hammond is your friend; hewould think it strange for me to write."
Maggie's tone grew as cold as her expressive face had suddenly become."I can write if you think it best," she said; "but you are mistaken insupposing that Mr Hammond is any longer a person of special interest tome."
"Oh, Maggie, Maggie, if you only would--"
"Good-night, Nancy," interrupted Maggie. She kissed her friend, andwent back to her room. There she sat down before her bureau andprepared to write a letter. "I must not lose any time," she said toherself; "I must help these people substantially; I must do something torescue poor Prissie from a life of drudgery. Fancy Prissie, with hergenius, living the life of an ordinary underpaid teacher: it is not tobe thought of for a moment! Something must be done to put the wholefamily on a different footing, but that, of course, is for the future.From Priscilla's account they want immediate aid. I have two five-poundnotes in my purse: Geoffrey shall have them and enclose them to theclergyman who is his relation, and who lives near Priscilla's home."
Maggie wrote her letter rapidly. She thought it cold; she meant it tobe a purely business note; she did not intend Hammond to see even theglimpse of her warm heart under the carefully studied words. "I am sickof money," she said to him, "but to some people it is as the bread oflife. Ask your friend to provide food and warmth without a moment'sdelay for these poor people out of the trifle I enclose. Ask him alsoto write directly to me, for the ten pounds I now send is only thebeginning of what I mean really to do to help them."
When her letter was finished, Maggie put her hand in her pocket to takeout her purse. It was not there. She searched on the table, lookedunder piles of books and papers, and presently found it. She unclaspedthe purse, and opened an inner pocket for the purpose of taking out twofive-pound notes which she had placed there this morning. To herastonishment and perplexity, this portion of the purse now containedonly one of the notes. Maggie felt her face turning crimson. Quick asa flash of lightning a horrible thought assailed her--Priscilla had beenalone in her room for nearly an hour--Priscilla's people were starving:had Priscilla taken the note?
"Oh, hateful!" said Maggie to herself; "what am I coming to, to suspectthe brave, the noble--I won't, I can't. Oh, how shall I look her in theface and feel that I ever, even for a second, thought of her sodreadfully." Maggie searched through her purse again. "Perhaps Idreamt that I put two notes here this morning," she said to herself."But no, it is no dream; I put two notes into this division of my purse,I put four sovereigns here; the sovereigns are safe--one of the notes isgone."
She thought deeply for a few moments longer, then added a postscript toher letter:--
"I am very sorry, but I can only send you one note for five poundsto-night. Even this, however, is better than nothing. I will givefurther help as soon as I hear from your friend." Maggie then foldedher letter, addressed, stamped it, and took it downstairs.
Miss Oliphant was an heiress; she was also an orphan; her father andmother were mere memories to her; she had neither brothers nor sisters;she did not particularly like her guardian, who was old andworldly-wise, as different as possible from the bright, enthusiastic,impulsive girl. Mr Oliphant thought money the aim and object of life:when he spoke to Maggie about it, she professed to hate it. In realityshe was indifferent to it; money was valueless to her because she hadnever felt its want.
She lay awake for a long time that night, thinking of Penywern Cottage,of tired Aunt Raby, of the little girls who wanted food, and education,and care, and love. After a time she fell asleep. In her sleep sheceased to think of Priscilla's relations: all her thoughts were withPriscilla herself. She dreamt that she saw Priscilla move stealthily inher room, take up her purse with wary fingers, open it, remove a notefor five pounds, and hide the purse once more under books and papers.
When Maggie awoke, she professed not to believe in her dream; but,nevertheless, she had a headache, and her heart was heavy within her.
At breakfast that morning Miss Oliphant made a rather startlingannouncement. "I wish to say something," she remarked, in her full,rich voice. "A strange thing happened to me last night. I am notaccounting for it; I am casting no aspersions on anyone; I don't evenintend to investigate the matter; still, I wish publicly to state afact--a five-pound note has been taken out of my purse!"
There were no dons or lecturers present when Miss Oliphant made thisstartling announcement, but Nancy Banister, Rosalind Merton, PriscillaPeel, Miss Day, Miss Marsh, and several other girls were all in theroom; they, each of them, looked at the speaker with startled andanxious inquiry.
Maggie herself did not return the glances; she was lazily helpingherself to some marmalade.
"How perfectly shameful!" burst at last from the lips of Miss Day. "Youhave lost five pounds, Miss Oliphant; you are positively certain thatfive pounds have been taken out of your purse. Where was your purse?"Maggie was spreading the marmalade on her bread-and-butter; her eyeswere still fixed on her plate. "I don't wish a fuss made," she said.
"Oh, that's all very fine!" continued Miss Day; "but if five pounds arelost out of your purse, someone has taken them! Someone, therefore,whether servant or student, is a thief. I am not narrow-minded orprudish; but I confess I draw the line at thieves."
"So do I," said Maggie, in an icy tone; "still, I don't mean to make afuss."
"But where was your purse, Maggie de
ar?" asked Nancy Banister; "was itin your pocket?"
"No. I found it last night in my bureau, under some books and papers."Maggie rose from the table as she spoke. With a swift flash her browneyes sought Priscilla's face; she had not meant to look at her, she didnot want to; but a fascination she could not control obliged her to dartthis one glance of inquiry.
Prissie's eyes met hers. Their expression was anxious, puzzled, butthere was not a trace of guilt or confusion in them. "I don't know howthat money could have been taken, Maggie," she said, "for I was in yourroom studying my Greek." Prissie