A Sweet Girl Graduate Part 40

Rosalind had no trouble with her hair: a touch or two, a pin stuck here, a curl arranged there, and the arrangement became perfect-- the glistening ma.s.s lay in natural waves over the small, graceful head.

Rosalind's hair arranged to her satisfaction, she put on her lovely white dress. She stood before her long gla.s.s, a white-robed little figure, smiles round her lips, a sweet, bright color in her cheeks, a dewy look in her baby-blue eyes. Rosalind's toilet was all but finished; she stood before her gla.s.s now and hesitated. Should she go to the Elliot-Smiths' as she was or should she give the last finishing touch to render herself perfect? Should she wear her beautiful coral ornaments?

The coral was now her own, paid for to the uttermost farthing; Polly Singleton could not come up to Rosalind now and disgrace her in public by demanding her coral back again. The coral was no longer Polly's; it was Rosalind's. The debt was cleared off; the exquisite ornaments were her own. Unlocking a drawer in her bureau, she took out a case, which contained her treasures; she touched the spring of the case, opened it and looked at them lovingly. The necklace, the bracelets, the earings and pins for the hair looked beautiful on their velvet pillow. For the sake of the pink coral, Rosalind had manoeuvred for her white dress; for its sake she had knowingly stinted her mother and sisters; for its sake she had also stolen a five-pound note from Maggie Oliphant. She dreamt many times of the triumphs which would be hers when she appeared at the Elliot-Smiths' in her white silk dress, just tipped with the slight color which the pink coral ornaments would bestow.

Rosalind had likened herself to all kinds of lovely things in this beautiful yet simple toilet-- to a daisy in the field, to a briar rose: in short, to every flower which denoted the perfection of baby innocence.

Yet, as she held the coral necklace in her hand tonight, she hesitated deeply whether it would be wise to appear at the Elliot-Smiths' in her treasured ornaments.

Rose had not felt comfortable all day. She had banished thought with the usual device of extra hilarity: she had crushed the little voice in her heart which would persistently cry, "Shame! shame!" which would go on telling her, "You are the meanest, the most wicked girl in St.

Benet's; you have done something for which you could be put in prison." The voice had little opportunity of making itself heard that day, and, as Maggie Oliphant evidently did not intend to investigate the matter, Rosalind had every hope that her sin would never be found out. Nevertheless, she could not help feeling uneasy; for why did Annie Day, her own chosen and particular friend, so persistently avoid her? Why had Lucy Marsh refused to walk with her yesterday? and why did Annie so often look at her with meaning and inquiry in her eyes?

These glances of Annie's caused Rosalind's heart to beat too quickly; they gave her an undefined sense of uneasiness.

She felt as she stood now before her gla.s.s that, after all, she was doing a rash thing in wearing her coral. Annie Day knew of her money difficulties; Annie knew how badly Rosalind had wanted four guineas to pay the debt she still owed for the ornaments. If Rosalind wore them to-night, Annie would ask numerous questions. Oh, yes, there was a risk-- there was a decided risk-- but Rosalind's vanity was greater than her fears.

There came a knock at her room door. To Rosalind's surprise, Annie Day's voice, with an extremely friendly tone in it, was heard outside.

"Are you ready, Rosie?" she cried; "for, if you are, there is just room for you in the fly with Lucy Marsh and Miss Singleton and myself."

"Oh, thank you!" cried Rosalind from the other side of the door; "just wait one moment, Annie, and I will be with you."

Both fear and hesitation vanished at the friendly tones of Annie's voice. She hastily fastened on her necklace and earrings, slipped on her bracelets and stuck the coral pins in her hair. She saw a dazzling little image in the gla.s.s and turned away with a glad, proud smile.

"We can't be kept waiting. Are you ready?" called Miss Day's voice in the pa.s.sage.

"Yes, yes; in one moment, Annie, dear," replied Rosalind. She wrapped herself from head to foot in a long white opera cloak, pulled the hood over her head, seized her gloves and fan and opened the door. The coral could not be seen now, and Annie, who was also in white, took her hand and ran with her down the corridor.

A few moments later the four girls arrived at the Elliot-Smiths' and were shown into a dressing-room on the ground floor to divest themselves of their wraps. They were among the earliest of the arrivals, and Annie Day had both s.p.a.ce and opportunity to rush up to Rosalind and exclaim at the perfect combination of white silk and pink coral.

"Lucy, Lucy!" she said, "do come and look at Rosalind's coral! Oh, poor Polly! you must miss your ornaments; but I am obliged frankly to confess, my dear, that they are more becoming to this little cherub than they ever were to you."

Polly was loudly dressed in blue silk. She came up and turned Rosalind round, and, putting her hand on her neck, lifted the necklace and looked at it affectionately.

"I did love those ornaments," she said; "but, of course, I can't grudge them to you, Rose. You paid a good sum for them-- didn't you, dear?-- although nothing like what they were worth, so, of course, they are yours by every right."

"You have paid off the debt? I congratulate you, Rose," said Annie Day.

"Yes," said Rosalind, blushing.

"I am glad you were able to get the money, my dear."

"And I wish she hadn't got it," retorted Polly. "Money is of no moment to me now. Dad is just rolling in wealth, and I have, in consequence, more money than I know what to do with. I confess I never felt crosser in my life than when you brought me that five-pounds note last Monday night, Miss Merton."

Rosalind colored, then grew very pale; she saw Annie Day's eyes blaze and darken. She felt that her friend was putting two and two together and drawing a conclusion in her own mind. Annie turned abruptly from Rosalind, and, touching Lucy Marsh on the arm, walked with her out of the dressing-room. The unsuspecting Polly brought up the rear with Rosalind.

The four girls entered the drawing-room, and Rosalind tried to forget the sick fear which was creeping round her heart in the excitement of the moment.

Nearly an hour later Maggie Oliphant arrived. She was also in white, but without any ornament, except a solitary diamond star which blazed in the rich coils of her hair. The beautiful Miss Oliphant was received with enthusiasm. Until her arrival Rose had been the undoubted belle of the evening, but beside Maggie the pet.i.te charms which Rose possessed sank out of sight. Maggie herself never felt less conscious of beauty; the heaviness of her heart made her cheeks look pale and gave her brown eyes a languid expression; she was indifferent to the admiration which greeted her. The admiration which greeted her gave her a momentary feeling of surprise-- almost of displeasure.

Meta Elliot-Smith and her mother buzzed round Maggie and expressed their grat.i.tude to her for coming.

"We expect a friend of yours to arrive presently," said Meta-- "Mr.

Hammond. You know Mr. Hammond, don't you? I have had a note from him.

He says he will look in as soon after ten as possible. I am so glad; I was dreadfully afraid he couldn't come, for he had to go suddenly into the country at the beginning of this week. You know Mr. Hammond very well, don't you, Miss Oliphant?"

"Yes," replied Maggie in her careless voice; "he is quite an old friend of mine."

"You will be glad to see him?"

"Very glad."

Meta looked at her in a puzzled way. Reports of Hammond's love affair had reached her ears. She had expected to see emotion and confusion on Maggie's face; it looked bright and pleased. Her "very glad" had a genuine ring about it.

"I am so delighted he is coming!" repeated Meta. "I do trust he will be here in good time."

She led Miss Oliphant to a prominent seat at the top of the room as she spoke.

"I shall have to leave soon after ten," replied Maggie, "so, if Mr.

Hammond cannot arrive until after that hour, I shall not have the pleasure of seeing him."

"Oh, but you must really stay later than that; it would be too cruel to leave us so early."

"I am afraid I cannot. The gates are closed at St. Benet's at eleven o'clock, and I do not care to remain out until the last moment."

Meta was obliged, with great reluctance, to leave her guest, and a moment later Annie Day came up eagerly to Maggie's side.

"It's all right," she said, drawing Miss Oliphant into the shelter of a window; "I have found out all I want to know."

"What is that?" asked Maggie.

"Rosalind Merton is the thief."

"Miss Day, how can you say such dreadful things?"

"How can Rosalind do them? I am awfully sorry-- indeed, I am disgusted-- but the facts are too plain." Miss Day then in a few eager whispers, which Maggie in vain endeavored to suppress, gave her chain of evidence. Rosalind's distress; her pa.s.sionate desire to keep the coral; her entreaties that Miss Day would lend her four guineas; her a.s.surances that she had not a penny in the world to pay her debt; her fears that it was utterly useless for her to expect the money from her mother. Then the curious fact that, on the very same evening, Polly Singleton should have been given a five-pound note by her. "There is not the least doubt," concluded Miss Day, "that Rosalind must have gone into your room, Miss Oliphant, and stolen the note while Priscilla was absent. You know Miss Peel said that she did leave your room for a moment or two to fetch her Lexicon. Rosalind must have seized the opportunity; there cannot be a doubt of it."

Maggie's face turned white; her eyes were full of indignation and horror.

"Something must be done," continued Annie. "I am no prude, but I draw the line at thieves. Miss Merton ought to be expelled; she is not fit to speak to one of us."

"The affair is mine," said Maggie after a pause. "You must let me deal with it."

"Will you?"

"I certainly will."

"To-night?"

"I cannot say. I must think. The whole thing is terrible, it upsets me."