Aneta promised. Maggie went to her room.

CHAPTER XXII.

ANETA'S PLAN.

The girls downstairs wondered why Maggie Howland did not appear. After an hour of waiting Kathleen O'Donnell took the lead. The accounts were left alone, but the tableaux vivants were diligently rehea.r.s.ed, the Tristrams and Jane Burns being the three critics; Rosamond Dacre, Kathleen O'Donnell, and Matty and Clara Roache the performers. But, somehow, there was no life in the acting, for the moving spirit was not there; the bright, quick eye was missed, the eager words were lacking, with the pointed and telling criticism. Then there was the scene where Maggie herself was to take a part. It was from _The Talisman_, and a night-scene, which she was able to render with great precision and even beauty, and the dun light would be in her favor. It was to be the crowning one, and the last of the tableaux. It was expected to bring down the house. But Maggie was not there, and the girls could not help feeling a little disconsolate and a little surprised.

At supper that evening there were eager inquiries with regard to Maggie Howland. All the girls came up to ask Aneta where the other queen was.

"She is not quite well, and has gone to bed," said Aneta. "She does not wish to be disturbed until the morning."

Aneta's words had a curious effect upon every one who heard her speak.

It was as though she had, for the first time in her life, absolutely taken Maggie's part. Her eyes, when she spoke of Maggie, were full of affection. The girls were puzzled; but Merry, as they turned away, suddenly ran back to Aneta, swept her arm round the girl's neck, and said, "Oh Neta, I do love you!"

Aneta pressed Merry's hand. For the first time these two understood each other.

Meanwhile poor Maggie was living through one of the most dreadful periods of her life. Her mother's intimation that she and her stepfather were coming without fail to Aylmer House on Sat.u.r.day--_the_ day, the glorious day when Maggie and her friends were to entertain Mrs. Ward and the rest of the school--drove the girl nearly wild.

Aneta had discovered her secret, and Aneta had urged, as the one way out, the painful but salutary road of confession. Maggie writhed at the thought, but she writhed far more terribly at the news which her mother's letter contained.

The girl said to herself, "I cannot stand it! I will run away! He has destroyed my last chance. I will run away and hide. I will go to-night. There is no use in waiting. Aneta is kind; she is far kinder than I could ever have given her credit for. She would, I believe, help me; and dear Mrs. Ward would help me--I am sure of that. And I don't really mind now that it comes to the point of losing my position in the school as queen; but for all the school--for the Tristrams, for Merry Cardew, for Kathleen--to see that man is beyond my power of endurance. He will call here, and he will bring poor mother, but as I won't be here I won't feel anything. I will go to-night. I'll slip downstairs and let myself out. I have some money--thank goodness for that!--and I have my father's treasures. I can take them out of the tin box and wear them on my person, and I can sell them one by one.

Yes, I will run away. There's no help for it."

Maggie, at Aneta's suggestion, had got into bed, but even to think of sleep was beyond her power. She got up again presently, dressed, and sat by the foggy window. The fog was worse; it was so thick now that you could not see your way even as far as the trees in the middle of the square. There were fog-signals sounding from time to time, and cabs going very slowly, and boys carrying torches to light belated and lost pa.s.sengers.

Maggie was safe enough in her room, which had, like all the other bedrooms at Aylmer House, a small fire burning in the grate. By-and-by some one tapped at the door. Maggie said, "Don't come in"; but her words were unheeded. The door was opened an inch or two, and Merry Cardew entered.

"Oh Merry, you--of all people!" said Maggie.

"And why not?" said Merry. "I am your friend--your own very, very great friend. What is the matter, Mags? You were so jolly at tea; what can have happened since?"

"Something most dreadful," said Maggie; "but you will know on Sat.u.r.day."

"Oh!" said Merry, coming up to Maggie and dropping on her knees and fondling one of the girl's cold hands, "why should I wait till Sat.u.r.day? Why should I not know now?"

"I can't talk of it, Merry. I am glad you--you--_loved_ me. You won't love me in the future. But kiss me just this once."

"I am not going to leave you like this," said Merry.

"You must, dear; yes, you must. Please, please go! And--please, be quick. Some one will see us together. Lucy Johnson will come in. Oh!

don't make matters worse for me. Good-night, Merry, good-night."

Maggie seemed so anxious that Merry should go that the girl felt hurt and rose to her feet.

"Good-night, Merry dear," said Maggie as Merry was walking towards the door. Then she added, in a semi-whisper which Merry did not catch, "And good-bye, Merry dear; we shall never meet again."

Merry left the room, feeling full of apprehension. She thought for a minute as she stood outside. Then she went and knocked at Aneta's door.

"Aneta, may I come in?"

"Of course, dear. What is the matter?" said her cousin.

Merry entered at once.

"I have been to see Maggie. She is awfully queer. Oh, I know I broke the rules. I must tell Miss Johnson in the morning."

"I did beg of you, Merry, not to go to her," said Aneta.

"Yes, I know you did; but I could not help thinking and thinking about her. She is very queer. Her eyes look so strange."

"I hoped she was in bed and asleep," said Aneta.

"In bed!" said Merry. "Not a bit of it. She was up and sitting by the window gazing at the fog."

"I will go and see her myself," said Aneta.

"Will you, Neta? And you will be kind to her?"

"Yes, darling, of course."

"Somehow, she used to think that--that you didn't love her," said Merry.

"Nor did I," said Aneta. "But I will be kind to her; don't be afraid.

I think I can guess what is the matter."

"It is all very queer," said Merry. "She was in such splendid spirits to-day; all the girls said so when they were out preparing for our party, and now she looks years older and utterly miserable."

"Go to bed, Merry, and leave your friend in my care."

"Then you don't think it wrong of me to be very fond of her?"

"I do not, Merry. There was a time when I hoped you would not care for her; now I earnestly want you to be her true friend. There is a very great deal of good in her, and she has had many sorrows. Pray for her to-night. Don't be anxious. Everything will come as right as possible."

"Oh Neta," said Merry, "you are a darling! And when you talk like that I love you more than I ever did before. You see, dear, I could not help caring for Maggie from the very first, and nothing nor anybody can alter my love."

Aneta kissed Merry, who left the room. Then Aneta herself, taking up her candle, went out. She was wearing a long white wrapper, and her clouds of golden hair were falling far below her waist. She looked almost like an angel as she went down the corridor as far as Miss Johnson's room.

Lucy Johnson was just getting into bed when Aneta knocked.

"What is it, Neta?" said the governess in a tone almost of alarm.

"I want to break a rule, Lucy," said Aneta; "so put me down for punishment to-morrow."

"Oh, but why? What are you going to do?"