A Sweet Girl Graduate Part 41

"I thought you would feel it. I am a good bit upset myself and so is Lucy Marsh."

"Does Miss Marsh know, too? In that case, Miss Day, it will, I fear, be my duty to consult Miss Heath. Oh, I must think; I can do nothing hastily. Please, Miss Day, keep your own counsel for the present, and ask Miss Marsh to do the same."

Annie Day ran off, and Maggie stood by the open window looking out at the starry night. Her head ached; her pulses beat; she felt sick and tired. The noise and laughter which filled the gaily thronged rooms were all discordant to her-- she wished she had not come. A voice close by made her start-- a hand not only clasped hers, but held it firmly for a moment. She looked up and said with a sudden impulse, "Oh, Geoffrey! I am glad you are here." Then, with a burning blush, she withdrew her hand from Hammond's.

"Can I help you?" he asked. His heart was beating fast; her words were tingling in his ears, but his tone was quiet. "Can I help you?" he repeated. "Here is a seat." He pulled a chair from behind a curtain, and Maggie dropped into it.

"Something is wrong," she said; "something dreadful has happened."

"May I know what it is?"

"I don't think I have any right to tell you. It is connected with the college; but it has given me a blow, and I was tired beforehand. I came here against my will, and now I don't want to talk to any one."

"That can be easily managed. I will stand here and keep off all intruders."

"Thank you." Maggie put her hand to her forehead.

The headache, which had scarcely left her for a fortnight, was now so acute that all her thoughts were confused; she felt as if she were walking in a dream. It seemed perfectly right and natural that Hammond should stand by her side and protect her from the crowd; it seemed natural to her at that moment, natural and even right to appeal to him.

After a long pause he said:

"I am afraid I also have bad news!"

"How?"

"I went to see my uncle, Mr. Hayes."

"Yes; it was good of you-- I remember."

"I failed in my mission. Mr. Hayes says that Miss Peel, our Prissie's aunt, would rather die than accept help from any one."

"Oh, how obstinate some people are!" replied Maggie wearily.

"Happiness, help and succor come to their very door and they turn these good things away."

"That is true," replied Hammond. "I am firmly convinced," he added, "that the good angel of happiness is within the reach of most of us once at least in our lives, but for a whim-- often for a mere whim-- we tell him to go."

Maggie's face grew very white. "I must say 'good-by': I am going home," she said, rising. Then she added, looking full at Hammond, "Sometimes it is necessary to reject happiness; and necessity ought not to be spoken of as a whim."

CHAPTER x.x.x

"IF I HAD KNOWN YOU SOONER"

AS MAGGIE was leaving the crowded drawing-room she came face to face with Rosalind. One of those impulses which always guided her, more or less, made her stop suddenly and put her hand on the young girl's shoulder.

"Will you come home with me?" she asked.

Rosalind was talking gaily at the moment to a very young undergraduate.

"I am obliged to you," she began; "you are kind, but I have arranged to return to St. Benet's with Miss Day and Miss Marsh."

"I should like you to come now with me," persisted Maggie in a grave voice.

Something in her tone caused Rosalind to turn pale. The sick fear, which had never been absent from her heart during the evening, became on the instant intolerable. She turned to the young lad with whom she had been flirting, bade him a hasty and indifferent "good night" and followed Maggie out of the room.

Hammond accompanied the two girls downstairs, got their cab for them and helped them in.

After Rosalind consented to come home Miss Oliphant did not address another word to her. Rosalind sat huddled up in a corner of the cab; Maggie kept the window open and looked out. The clear moonlight shone on her white face and glistened on her dress. Rosalind kept glancing at her. The guilty girl's terror of the silent figure by her side grew greater each moment.

The girls reached Heath Hall and Maggie again touched Rosalind on her arm.

"Come to my room," she said; "I want to say something to you."

Without waiting for a reply she went on herself in front. Rosalind followed abjectly; she was shaking in every limb.

The moment Maggie closed her room door Rosalind flung her cloak off her shoulders, and, falling on her knees, caught the hem of Maggie's dress and covered her face with it.

"Don't, Rosalind; get up," said Miss Oliphant in a tone of disgust.

"Oh, Maggie, Maggie, do be merciful! Do forgive me! Don't send me to prison, Maggie-- don't!"

"Get off your knees at once, or I don't know what I shall do," replied Maggie.

Rosalind sprang to her feet; she crouched up against the door; her eyes were wide open. Maggie came and, faced her.

"Oh, don't!" said Miss Merton with a little shriek, "don't look at me like that!" She put up her hand to her neck and began to unfasten her coral necklace. She took it off, slipped her bracelets from her arms, took her earrings out and removed her pins.

"You can have them all," she said, holding out the coral; "they are worth a great deal more-- a great deal more than the money I-- took!"

"Lay them down," said Maggie. "Do you think I could touch that coral?

Oh, Rosalind," she added, a sudden rush of intense feeling coming into her voice, "I pity you! I pity any girl who has so base a soul."

Rosalind began to sob freely. "You don't know how I was tempted," she said. "I went through a dreadful time, and you were the cause-- you know you were, Maggie. You raised the price of that coral so wickedly, you excited my feelings. I felt as if there was a fiend in me. You did not want the sealskin jacket, but you bid against me and won it. Then I felt mad, and, whatever you had offered for the coral, I should have bidden higher. It was all your fault; it was you who got me into debt.

I would not be in the awful, awful plight I am in to-night but for you, Maggie."

"Hush!" said Maggie. The pupils of her eyes dilated curiously; she put her hand before them.

"The fruits of my bad half-hours," she murmured under her breath.

After a long pause, she said:

"There is some truth in your words, Rosalind; I did help you to get into this false position. I am sorry; and when I tell Miss Heath the whole circ.u.mstance-- as I must to-morrow-- you may be sure I shall not exonerate myself."

"Oh, Maggie, Maggie, you won't tell Miss Heath! If you do, I am certain to be expelled, and my mother-- my mother will die; she is not over strong just now, and this will kill her. You cannot be so cruel as to kill my mother, Maggie Oliphant, particularly when you yourself got me into this."

"I did not get you into this," retorted Maggie. "I know I am not blameless in the matter; but could I imagine for a moment that any girl, any girl who belonged to this college, could debase herself to steal and then throw the blame on another. Nancy Banister has told me, Rose, how cruelly you spoke to Priscilla-- what agony your cruel words cost her. I did wrong, I own, but no act of mine would have tempted another girl to do what you have done. Now, stop crying; I have not brought you here to discuss your wickedness with you. I shall tell the whole circ.u.mstance to Miss Heath in the morning. It is my plain duty to do so, and no words of yours can prevent me."

With a stifled cry Rosalind Merton again fell on her knees.

"Get up," said Maggie, "get up at once, or I shall bring Miss Heath here now. Your crime, Rosalind, is known to Miss Day and to Miss Marsh. Even without consulting Miss Heath, I think I can take it upon me to say that you had better leave St. Benet's by the first train in the morning."