The round-faced, good-humored looking mother, whose name was Mrs.

Williams, had been washing and putting away the breakfast things when her daughter entered. She now wiped her hands hastily and came to the cottage door.

"Cross the road, and come to the stile, mother," said the energetic Peggy--"oh, there she be a-creeping along--oh, ain't she a take-in?"

"'Sakes alive!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Williams, "the girl is ill! why, she can't keep herself steady! There! I knew she'd fall; ah! poor little thing--poor little thing."

It did not take Mrs. Williams an instant to reach Annie's side; and in another moment she had lifted her in her strong arms and carried her into the cottage, Peggy lifting Nan and following in the rear, while Tiger walked by their sides.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

DARK DAYS.

A whole week had pa.s.sed, and there were no tidings whatever of little Nan or of Annie Forest. No one at Lavender House had heard a word about them; the police came and went, detectives even arrived from London, but there were no traces whatever of the missing children.

The midsummer holiday was now close at hand, but no one spoke of it or thought of it. Mrs. Willis told the teachers that the prizes should be distributed, but she said she could invite no guests and could allow of no special festivities. Miss Danesbury and Miss Good repeated her words to the schoolgirls, who answered without hesitation that they did not wish for feasting and merriment; they would rather the day pa.s.sed unnoticed. In truth, the fact that their baby was gone, that their favorite and prettiest and brightest schoolmate had also disappeared, caused such gloom, such distress, such apprehension that even the most thoughtless of those girls could scarcely have laughed or been merry.

School-hours were still kept after a fashion, but there was no life in the lessons. In truth, it seemed as if the sun would never shine again at Lavender House.

Hester was ill; not very ill--she had no fever, she had no cold; she had, as the good doctor explained it, nothing at all wrong, except that her nervous system had got a shock.

"When the little one is found, Miss Hetty will be quite well again," said the good doctor; but the little one had not been found yet, and Hester had completely broken down. She lay on her bed, saying little or nothing, eating scarcely anything, sleeping not at all. All the girls were kind to her and each one in the school took turns in trying to comfort her; but no one could win a smile from Hester, and even Mrs. Willis failed utterly to reach or touch her heart.

Mr. Everard came once to see her, but he had scarcely spoken many words when Hester broke into an agony of weeping and begged him to go away. He shook his head when he left her and said sadly to himself:

"That girl has got something on her mind; she is grieving for more than the loss of her little sister."

The twentieth of June came at last, and the girls sat about in groups in the pleasant shady garden, and talked of the very sad breaking-up day they were to have on the morrow, and wondered if, when they returned to school again, Annie and little Nan would have been found. Cecil Temple, Dora Russell, and one or two others were sitting together and whispering in low voices. Mary Price joined them, and said anxiously:

"I don't think the doctor is satisfied about Hester, Perhaps I ought not to have listened, but I heard him talking to Miss Danesbury just now; he said she must be got to sleep somehow, and she is to have a composing draught to-night."

"I wish poor Hetty would not turn away from us all," said Cecil; "I wish she would not quite give up hope; I do feel sure that Nan and Annie will be found yet."

"Have you been praying about it, Cecil?" asked Mary, kneeling on the gra.s.s, laying her elbows on Cecil's knees and looking into her face. "Do you say this because you have faith?"

"I have prayed and I have faith," replied Cecil in her simple, earnest way. "Why, Dora, what is the matter?"

"Only that it's horrid to leave like this," said Dora; "I--I thought my last day at school would have been so different and somehow I am sorry I spoke so much against that poor little Annie."

Here Cecil suddenly rose from her seat, and going up to Dora, clasped her arms round her neck.

"Thank you, Dora," she said with fervor; "I love you for those words."

"Here comes Susy," remarked Mary Price. "I really don't think _anything_ would move Susy; she's just as stolid and indifferent as ever. Ah, Susy, here's a place for you--oh, what _is_ the matter with Phyllis? see how she's rushing toward us! Phyllis, my dear, don't break your neck."

Susan, with her usual nonchalance, seated herself by Dora Russell's side.

Phyllis burst excitedly into the group.

"I think," she exclaimed, "I really, really do think that news has come of Annie's father. Nora said that Janet told her that a foreign letter came this morning to Mrs. Willis, and somebody saw Mrs. Willis talking to Miss Danesbury--oh, I forgot, only I know that the girls of the school are whispering the news that Mrs. Willis cried, and Miss Danesbury said, 'After waiting for him four years, and now, when he comes back, he won't find her!' Oh dear, oh dear! there is Danesbury. Cecil, darling love, go to her, and find out the truth."

Cecil rose at once, went across the lawn, said a few words to Miss Danesbury, and came back to the other girls.

"It is true," she said sadly, "there came a letter this morning from Captain Forest; he will be at Lavender House in a week. Miss Danesbury says it is a wonderful letter, and he has been shipwrecked, and on an island by himself for ever so long; but he is safe now, and will soon be in England. Miss Danesbury says Mrs. Willis can scarcely speak about that letter; she is in great, great trouble, and Miss Danesbury confesses that they are all more anxious than they dare to admit about Annie and little Nan."

At this moment the sound of carriage wheels was heard on the drive, and Susan, peering forward to see who was arriving, remarked in her usual nonchalant manner:

"Only the little Misses Bruce in their basket-carriage--what dull-looking women they are?"

n.o.body commented, however, on her observation, and gradually the little group of girls sank into absolute silence.

From where they sat they could see the basket-carriage waiting at the front entrance--the little ladies had gone inside, all was perfect silence and stillness.

Suddenly on the stillness a sound broke--the sound of a girl running quickly; nearer and nearer came the steps, and the four or five who sat together under the oak-tree noticed the quick panting breath, and felt even before a word was uttered that evil tidings were coming to them.

They all started to their feet, however; they all uttered a cry of horror and distress when Hester herself broke into their midst. She was supposed to be lying down in a darkened room, she was supposed to be very ill--what was she doing here?

"Hetty!" exclaimed Cecil.

Hester pushed past her; she rushed up to Susan Drummond, and seized her arm.

"News has come!" she panted; "news--news at last! Nan is found!--and Annie--they are both found--but Annie is dying. Come, Susan, come this moment; we must both tell what we know now."

By her impetuosity, by the intense fire of her pa.s.sion and agony, even Susan was electrified into leaving her seat and going with her.

CHAPTER XLIX.

TWO CONFESSIONS.

Hester dragged her startled and rather unwilling companion in through the front entrance, past some agitated-looking servants who stood about in the hall, and through the velvet curtains into Mrs. Willis' boudoir.

The Misses Bruce were there, and Mrs. Willis in her bonnet and cloak was hastily packing some things into a basket.

"I--I must speak to you," said Hester, going up to her governess. "Susan and I have got something to say, and we must say it here, now at once."

"No, not now, Hester," replied Mrs. Willis, looking for a moment into her pupil's agitated face. "Whatever you and Susan Drummond have to tell cannot be listened to by me at this moment. I have not an instant to lose."

"You are going to Annie?" asked Hester.

"Yes; don't keep me. Good-bye, my dears; good-bye."

Mrs. Willis moved toward the door. Hester, who felt almost beside herself, rushed after her, and caught her arm.

"Take us with you, take Susy and me with you--we must, we must see Annie before she dies."