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A girl stood behind him. She was tall, and, even in the uncertain light, it was evident that she was attired in a style very different from that which marked the girls belonging to the street. But Bert could not see her face clearly, and he waited in blank surprise till she said,—
"Why, Bert, don't you know me? How stupid you are!"
It was the Princess! There was no mistaking her, though she spoke in a wonderfully subdued manner, and scarcely raised her voice above a whisper.
"Oh, Prin!" exclaimed Bert, his tone ringing with joy as he sprang up. "It's never you!"
"Hush!" she whispered imperiously. "Don't make such a noise! Let us get in quickly."
She spoke with an air of haste and fear which alarmed him.
"Oh, Prin, what is the matter? What is frightening you?" he asked. "Where are you going? You forget that room does not belong to us now."
"Oh!" She shrank back with panting breath, and eyes big with consternation. "Where can we go, then? Think, Bert. Find some place for me."
Bert was appalled by the utter strangeness of the situation. That the Princess, who had always taken the lead and given him his orders, should now appeal to him in this helpless way, seemed past belief. Surely she must be ill, or something terrible had happened to her. But Bert rose to the occasion.
"The room is empty," he said. "I daresay Mrs. Brown would let us have it, if I asked her. I've saved pennies enough to pay for it for one week."
"Oh, I've money," said Prin quickly. "Here, take some, and pay for it in advance."
She gave him two shillings, and Bert hurried away. When she saw the money in his hand, Mrs. Brown readily agreed to let him have the room. She was much astonished to hear that his sister had come back, and she asked various questions, which Bert would not stay to answer, when once he had obtained possession of the key. He ran back to Prin, opened the door, and they entered the room.
The place smelt close and musty from having been shut up so long. Dust lay thickly everywhere. Bert felt that it was a poor place for Prin to stay in; but she uttered no complaint, only sank on to the nearest chair, heedless of the dust that covered it, and breathed a sigh of utter weariness.
"Ah, you're very tired, Prin, and it's a poor room for you after the lovely houses you've been in; but wait a moment, and I'll open the window and put the place to rights a bit."
Prin made no reply, and Bert hastened to do as he said. He opened the window, then ran off to beg a piece of candle from Mrs. Brown, for it was almost dark in the little room. When he had lighted the candle, he turned to look at Prin. She sat staring blankly before her with such a hopeless, miserable expression, that Bert felt a fresh pang of fear.
"Oh, Prin, do tell me what is the matter? What has brought you here like this? I can see that you are in great trouble."
The colour leaped into her face.
"Now don't begin asking me questions," she cried, with a return to her usual manner; "can't you see that I am tired to death, and only want to be left alone? Make haste and put the room straight, so that I can go to bed."
Bert's glance lingered on her for a moment ere he obeyed her. He noted that Prin looked both ill and weary, and that her appearance was less clean and tidy by far than when he last saw her. Her nice frock was torn and stained with mud, and her boots were very dirty, though there was little dirt on the London roads in this hot weather.
Bert marvelled at what he saw, but he did not venture to ask another question just then. He hastened to dust the room, setting to work with a damp cloth, as he had seen the old sailor do. Working with all his heart in his desire to make the room fit for Prin, he soon succeeded in rendering it fairly habitable.
Prin said nothing as he performed his task. She hardly seemed aware of what he was doing. But when he moved towards the door, intending to run out and buy something nice for Prin's supper, she suddenly spoke,—
"Where are you going, Bert? Don't leave me. I can't bear to be left alone!"
"Why, Prin," exclaimed Bert, in surprise, "I was only going out to get you some supper. You'd like something to eat, wouldn't you?"
"Oh yes, to be sure," she replied, with a sob in her voice, "I want food. I have not eaten anything to-day. But don't be long."
Promising to make great haste, Bert sped on his way. His heart was filled with distress and fear, yet mingling with these feelings was a certain sweet content. Whatever had happened, one thing was clear: the Princess wanted him now.
A Flash of Light
BERT hurried back to the Princess with his hands full of small packages. He proceeded to set out the nicest supper his limited means had enabled him to provide. Prin began to eat eagerly, but ere she had swallowed many mouthfuls, her appetite suddenly failed. She pushed her plate aside, and said she could eat no more.
"Why, Prin, you must be ill," Bert said, unable to understand how one who had eaten nothing all day could be so easily satisfied.
"No, not ill, only dead tired," she said faintly. "I think I'll go to bed."
"Won't you tell me first how it is you are in London?" Bert asked timidly. "Have you left Lady Millicent?"
A shiver ran through Prin as he spoke.
"Yes," she said faintly, "I've left her. They were unkind to me, and I ran away."
"Ran away!" repeated Bert, in amazement. "From Park Lane?"
"No, from the cottage—from Mrs. Hamblyn's, down in Hampshire."
"All that way!" exclaimed Bert. "What did they do to you to make you run off?"
The colour rose in Prin's face, and then died away as quickly. She answered, with considerable hesitation,—
"They said I was a thief—they said I had taken something of Lady Millicent's. They were coming to search my box, and I ran away."
"But why did you, Prin?" asked Bert, looking perplexed and troubled. "You should have stayed and let them search your box, then they would have known that you had not stolen it. But now they will most likely think that you've got whatever it was, and taken it away with you. It wasn't like you, Prin, to be so foolish."
"I suppose I did not think of that," she said, looking down.
"You didn't walk from Hampshire, surely?" he said, as his eyes fell on her boots.
She nodded.
"Most of the way," she said. "I didn't dare to take a train on their line, for fear they should telegraph and have me stopped at the station. I lay under a hedge last night, and as soon as it was light, I got up and walked on. Then a carrier's cart overtook me, and I got a lift. It was going to Weybridge, and there I took the train for London."
"You must be dreadfully tired," said Bert, looking compassionately at her; "you'd better get to bed at once."
"Oh," she cried, with a sudden wail of distress, "I wish I had not done it!" Then looking round her fearfully, she added, "You don't think they'll find me here, do you, Bert? Perhaps we had better go somewhere else."
"Why should you be afraid of their finding you, if you haven't got it?" asked Bert. "Of course you wouldn't be likely to steal. 'We're poor, but we're honest!' as father used to say. What was it they thought you had taken?"
"Oh, do be quiet! You'll drive me mad with your questions!" cried Prin angrily. "I am not going to say another word, so there."
She began to undress. When she took off her stockings, it appeared that her feet were sore and blistered, and Bert fetched some water and bathed them for her. Then she lay down, and almost immediately fell into an uneasy sleep. Bert sat and watched her, his mind full of perplexity and trouble. Presently Prin began to move from side to side in her sleep, and to talk rapidly.
"They're coming! They're coming!" she would cry. "Don't let them find me, Bert! Can't you hide me somewhere? Tell them I haven't got it. Oh, how it sparkles! Can they see it in the dark? It's Lady Millicent's; but if she's going to die, she won't want it; she doesn't care for it, anyhow. Oh, Bert, Bert, help me—don't leave me! I'm so frightened."
"I'm here, Prin. You need not be afraid. I won't leave you," Bert made reply.
His high, clear tones seemed to reach her troubled brain even in her sleep, with power to calm. She grew quieter. Bert meant to watch beside her all night, but weariness overpowered him. He stretched himself at the foot of the bed, intending to rest but a few minutes, and fell into the sound slumber of a boy accustomed to sleep under the most unfavourable circumstances.
When he woke it was daylight, and the area-room, gloomy at the best of times, was as bright as it ever could be. Prin was awake, but complained of feeling very ill. She had terrible pain in her head and limbs. Bert ran out and bought some tea—a luxury he rarely indulged in himself—and made her a cup. She drank it eagerly, but it did not prove the panacea he had hoped. He would fain have brought Mrs. Brown to see her, but Prin passionately bid him bar the door against every one. She would soon be all right, if only she were left alone, she said. But though Bert let her lie all day undisturbed, only giving her something to drink when she asked him, she did not get better. At night she was in a high fever, and by the next morning she was delirious.
Then Bert had to seek the help of Mrs. Brown. She came and looked at Prin from the doorway, but would not venture nearer, being convinced that her malady must be something "catching."
She sent for the parish doctor, but he did not come till the afternoon, and meanwhile Bert suffered an agony of suspense. Again the terrible question, "What if Prin should die?" pierced his heart.
At last the doctor's step was heard hurriedly descending to the area.
"What, is it you?" said Mr. Hurst, as he recognised the boy. "And is the Princess ill again? Why, I thought she had gone away?"
"So she did," said Bert; "but she came back the day before yesterday."
"Ah! Came back ill?"
Bert nodded.
"Did they send her back because she was ill?"
"Oh no; it wasn't that," said Bert; "she ran away because they were unkind to her."
"Ran away! Unkind to her!" repeated the doctor, in amazement.
"Yes; they said she had stolen something. Prin could not stand that. She always was a spirit. So she ran away."
"Phew!" said the doctor expressively. "A very foolish spirit."
Then he gave his attention to his patient. He went thoroughly into her case, and seemed anxious to do his best for her. There was no infection, he said. It was a fever produced by exposure, over-fatigue, and distress of mind. Perhaps influenza had something to do with it; but, whatever it was, she could not be moved now, but must be nursed where she lay.
"Who will nurse her?" asked the doctor. "Where's that old woman who used to take care of you?"
"Mrs. Kay?" said Bert. "She's gone to Scotland; but I can nurse Prin."
"You!" Mr. Hurst shrugged his shoulders expressively. "It's a poor look-out, if she has only you to nurse her. I'll see if I can get the district nurse to come; but her hands are pretty full just now. Why didn't she stay where she was well off?"
He looked at Prin. She was beginning to talk excitedly again.
"Bert, Bert," she cried; "don't let them have it! It's mine, I tell you. See how it sparkles! They're diamonds, real diamonds, worth ever so much money. I only wish—"
Her voice fell and died away in confused murmurings.
"So," said the doctor, "her mind runs upon diamonds! Curious what a fascination they have for her sex! Many a woman is ready to sell her soul for them; but I should have thought this child was too young to have felt the temptation. But who knows! Perhaps the devil has thus baited his trap for her too."
He was speaking to himself rather than to Bert, who looked at him in wonder and made no reply, though the words inspired him with a vague uneasiness.
Mr. Hurst then gave Bert various plain and simple directions as to what he should do for his sister.
"Will she get better, sir?" Bert asked.
The doctor did not seem to hear the question.
"Now mind what I have told you," he said as he departed. "I'll send the medicine directly, and you must give it to her at once."
"All right," said Bert. But, left alone with his unconscious sister in that dismal room, he felt as if nothing were right.
Bert proved a better nurse than the doctor could have believed. Love helped him to find out the best way of waiting on the patient, and inducing her to swallow the milk which the doctor had ordered her to have from time to time. The thin, worn mattress had slipped out of place under Prin's restless movements. Bert was exerting all his strength to drag it back into its right position, when suddenly a strange light flashed from beneath the corner he had raised. What could it be that gleamed so in that dark room? Bert turned up the mattress, and beheld, pinned to its inner side, a brilliant sparkling thing, which on examination proved to be a tiny brooch in the shape of a star. With trembling fingers Bert unfastened it and laid it on his palm, where, as the light fell on it, the costly ornament emitted flashes of dazzling, rainbow-hued brilliance.
Bert knew instinctively that the radiant gems which composed the brooch were diamonds of the utmost value. The sight inspired him with terror. His face grew white to the very lips as he looked at it, and the hand which held the diamond star trembled. For to him that beautiful object had the ugly face of a sin. He knew now what it was that Lady Millicent had missed, and he knew that Prin had stolen it; for assuredly no such radiant star had glittered on the dingy mattress when he made the bed for his sister on the night of her return. The discovery fell like a cruel blow on the loving heart in which the Princess was enthroned.
At the Last Extremity
THE diamond brooch seemed to burn Bert's fingers as he held it, and he was glad to thrust it out of sight again beneath the mattress. It was plain now why Prin in her mental wanderings continually spoke of diamonds and glittering things. Poor Prin! Her mind had been sorely troubled in consequence of what she had done. Sin had brought its penalty. Bert's first feeling of shame and indignation changed to pity as he watched her. She was very ill. Even Bert, in his inexperience, could perceive that her sickness was "nigh unto death."
The district nurse came in and looked after the patient, giving to her all the time she could spare from her other cases, which unfortunately were very numerous; for there was much sickness at this time in the close, stifling streets of this poor neighbourhood. The doctor watched the case carefully, but would answer no questions. Bert wondered sadly what the end would be. He could not bear to think of Prin lying cold and still, as he had seen his father lie.
Yet if she lived, would not the police be sure to find her and the stolen brooch, and take her off to prison? Bert had great faith in the omnipotence of the police. The thought of the Princess in prison was terrible. Yet scarcely less grievous was the thought of her guilt. God knew what she had done. God's eye could see the glittering thing hidden beneath the mattress. And God would punish sin. Was it too late to pray, "Deliver her from evil"?
The third day of Prin's illness was drawing to its close. Bert had drawn down the blind and lighted the solitary candle which illumined the room. The Princess had been very ill all day. The nurse had seen her in the morning, and had promised, if possible, to come in later; but she had not come. Bert was feeling intensely anxious about his sister, who had ceased to talk, and now lay in a heavy slumber.
In vain he had tried to induce her to swallow the milk and brandy which the nurse had told him to give her every hour. He had found it impossible to administer it, and he longed for the nurse to come to his help. The outside world was noisy as usual. Never had there been a greater turmoil in the street; but Prin was unconscious of it all. It seemed as if nothing would rouse her. As he sat beside her, Bert himself grew drowsy from protracted watching. His head began to nod as he sat there. How long he thus lost himself he could not have told, when suddenly he sprang up, roused to quick consciousness by Prin's voice. To his surprise, he saw her sitting up in bed and looking about her with a bewildered air.
"Bert," she said, "are you there? Where am I? Have I been ill? What place is this?"
"Why, it's our little room, Prin, where we used to live, don't you know? And you have been ill, very ill; but I'm so glad you're better."
"Where is Lady Millicent?" Prin asked. "Wasn't she here just now?"
"Oh no, Prin. No one's been here except me and the nurse and the doctor."
"But she was here," persisted Prin, "you must have been asleep. She came and stood beside me, and put her soft little hand on my forehead, and said how sorry she was. She said she forgave me, but she was so sorry; because she was going to heaven, and she wanted me to go there too, but I couldn't if I did such things. Oh, Bert, where is she now?"
"She has not been here, Prin. You are mistaken. It is all a dream."
"It can't be a dream," persisted Prin, "I saw her as plain as possible, and I can feel her touch on my forehead now. Is it—is it all a dream that I took the brooch?"
"No, Prin, that's not a dream," said Bert sadly. "It's here under the bed."
Prin uttered a wail of distress and sank back on the pillow. All strength seemed to go from her.
She began to speak; but so faintly that Bert could hardly hear what she said.
"Oh," she murmured, "I can't think what made me do it. And she loved me so. You must take it back to her, Bert; you must tell her how sorry I am. Oh, I feel so ill. Am I going to die?"
"Oh no, not now, Prin," cried Bert; "you are better, I am sure. And the doctor will be here directly. He said he would look in again to-night."
"If he does not come soon, I shall die," she said faintly. "Oh, Bert, I don't want to die—I am so afraid!"
She would have said more, but utterance failed her. Her voice died away. She drew one deep breath, and then there was a stillness which appalled Bert. He bent over her in terror. He tried to force milk down her throat, but it ran out of her mouth as fast as he put it in. He laid his hand on her forehead, and it felt cold and clammy. He called to her loudly, but her ears were deaf to his cry.
Then his heart sank very low, and hope died within him. He caught up the candle, and held it so that its light fell full on Prin's face. The features were set, the eyes half-closed, the mouth a little open, and the countenance was ghastly in its pallor. Just so had he seen his father look when he was dead. So, it was all over. Prin too was dead! With a cry of despair, Bert cast himself face downwards on the bed.
He was roused by a resounding knock on the door. He started up in a dazed condition and went to open it. Two men stood at the foot of the steps. They were not attired as police officers, yet instinctively Bert divined their errand.
"There is a girl living here named Sinclair?" said one.
Bert made no reply.
"She's your sister, isn't she?" said the other.
Bert nodded.
The look of the boy's pale, woe-begone face touched the man's heart, and he said kindly, "I am afraid we've come to bring you trouble, my little man. We have to arrest your sister on the charge of stealing a diamond brooch from the house of Lord Ravenscourt, near Petersfield."
"It's true, she took it," said Bert sadly. "I have it here, and I'll give it to you. But you can't take Prin, for she's gone."
"Gone!" repeated the foremost man sharply. "Where? When?" And he pushed forward into the room.
"She's dead," said Bert.
"Dead!" the two men exclaimed together, in startled tones. They were dismayed and awed. They stood by the door and looked uneasily towards the bed on which the still form lay.
"When did she die?" asked one.
"A few minutes ago," said Bert.
Then the other man walked to the bed and looked closely at Prin, and laid his hand on her forehead.
"It's so," he said; "she's dead."
Bert burst out sobbing; but, struggling with his sobs, he searched beneath the mattress and brought out the diamond star, which he gave to the officers.
"That's it," he said, "and please, when you give it to Lady Millicent, will you say that Prin was very sorry at the last?"
"All right, I'll see about it," said the man, conscious of a queer lump in his throat as he spoke. "And now, what are you going to do? You must get some woman to come and help you."
"The nurse will be here directly," said Bert, "and the doctor too is coming."
"Oh, then, they'll see about things," said the man, relieved. He was oppressed by the atmosphere of that gloomy room and the awful presence of death, and was anxious to get away, though it seemed hard to leave the boy alone with his dead.
"Come, Joe," he said to his subordinate, "we can do no good here."
So they went out. At the head of the area steps, they encountered the doctor, and paused to have a few words with him. But they did not descend again to the room. Even a police officer may have a heart too soft for his profession, and familiarity with painful scenes may fail to render it callous.
Dead and Alive Again
BERT was crouching on the bed close to his sister when the doctor came into the room. Dead or alive, Prin was Prin, and Bert felt no awe of her. He was bending over her, and his tears were dropping on her forehead. The doctor took hold of him forcibly and lifted him from the bed.
"Come, this won't do," he said. "You must not give way. Just let me have a look at her. It's all over, they tell me."
Bert made no reply, having no voice at his command. Dr. Hurst touched Prin's still form, straightened it, and laid his hand on her heart. Then he uttered a startled cry.
"She lives yet! I can feel her heart beat. Quick, boy, give me the brandy, quick!"
There was but a small quantity at hand. The doctor succeeded in pouring it all down his patient's throat; then he called to Bert for water. The boy flew to fetch it, and to his joy met the nurse at the door. She had come in time, not to lay out the dead, but to help to revive the living.
Doctor and nurse worked together in breathless excitement for some minutes. Their efforts were rewarded. Hope grew as they worked, till, after about a quarter of an hour, the girl drew a deep, natural breath, and opened her eyes.
"She will live," whispered the doctor; and Bert caught the words, and ran out of the room, that he might sob freely.
The nurse sat up with the patient that night, for her weakness was extreme, and she might yet slip away if she were not assiduously cared for. But the hours of the night brought no relapse, and the morning found Prin better.
"She'll do now," said Dr. Hurst, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. "It's the narrowest escape I ever saw. If I had come in a minute later, it might have been too late.
"Don't you be in such a hurry to jump to conclusions another time, young man," he added, as he turned to Bert; "but there! We'll hope there'll be no more times such as this."
Bert devoutly hoped so too. Yet thankful as he was that Prin was restored to life, there was a burden on the boy's mind as he thought of the future.
"Will the police want her now, sir?" he asked anxiously of the doctor.
"Ah, the police!" said Dr. Hurst, looking grave. "That is a bad business. So, she was only a sham princess after all!"
"Of course she was never a real one," said Bert.
"Ah! But she might have been!" said the doctor. "'Tis only noble to be good. Every good, true woman is of royal lineage, no matter who her parents were."
"And Prin was not good and true," said Bert sadly; "I will never call her Princess again."
"Don't say that," said Dr. Hurst; "she may be worthy of the title yet. She has life before her, and may live to be thankful for the fall which taught her the misery of wrong-doing. Do you know, lad, there is a ladder by which men and women may climb upwards, and the rungs of that ladder are formed of the mistakes and sins of the past? It is painful climbing for most of us; but she is young, and it will be easier for her."
"Oh, I hope so," said Bert, only half-grasping the meaning of the doctor's words.
Just then there was a rap on the door. Bert ran to open it. A gentleman stood in the narrow space at the foot of the steps. His bearing was such that he looked strangely out of place in that dingy spot, and catching sight of him, the doctor hastened forward.
"Is there not a girl lying dead here whose name was Sinclair?" he asked, with some hesitation of manner.
"Not dead, sir!" cried Bert excitedly. "She's come to life again."
"Indeed!" said the gentleman, in amazement. "A police officer called at my house last night and told me she was dead."
Then the doctor stepping out and closing the door behind him, lest their words should reach the ears of his patient, began to explain Bert's extraordinary statement.
The gentleman listened in astonishment. "I should have thought the policeman might have known," he said.
"So should I," said the doctor; "but—" He shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"Well, I am glad the poor girl still lives," said the gentleman. "Can I see her?"
The doctor shook his head. "I dare not risk the effect of excitement," he said.
"No doubt you are right," said the gentleman. "I must wait till another time. I am Lord Ravenscourt. The policeman brought me last night the diamond brooch found here, which the girl stole from my daughter."
He spoke quietly and sadly.
"Oh, sir!" broke in Bert, who stood between them, his tones quivering with emotion. "Please don't send Prin to prison! She's so sorry now that she took the brooch. She told me last night, before she died, as I thought, how sorry she was, and begged me to take the brooch back to Lady Millicent and ask her to forgive her. Oh, sir, will you ask Lady Millicent to forgive Prin? And if some one must go to prison, please let it be me!"
For a moment Lord Ravenscourt did not reply. Tears seemed to be glistening in his eyes when he said very gently,—
"Do not be afraid, my boy. Neither you nor your sister shall go to prison. But it is not in my power to give your message to Lady Millicent. She is in heaven. She passed away last evening."
"Last evening! And it was at that time that Prin had believed that she had a visit from Lady Millicent!" Bert marvelled; but he could not speak of that which was in his mind.
There was a silence which appeared long to all three, though it lasted only a few moments. Then Lord Ravenscourt said, speaking with an effort: "You may assure your sister of Lady Millicent's forgiveness. She loved her to the last, although she made such a base return for her love. It was the discovery of that which hastened my daughter's end. But we will not speak of it. Lady Millicent asked me to tell your sister that she forgave her and hoped to meet her in heaven. A week ago my daughter made her little will. She wanted to leave your sister the diamond brooch, because she knew how much she admired it; but I persuaded her that it would not be a suitable bequest, and a sum of money was substituted, to be spent on the girl's education."
Lord Ravenscourt paused abruptly. He became aware that he was speaking to a larger audience than he had imagined. Children were swarming on the pavement and hanging over the railings of the area. Women stood in the doorway above his head; others leaned out of the windows of the house. From every possible point of view, persons of more or less doubtful respectability were watching the strange gentleman, and straining their ears to hear what he was saying.
"I must go," said Lord Ravenscourt to the doctor. "You will let me know as soon as it is safe to move your patient. We must take her down to the country again. And the boy too. We must see what we can do for him."
Then he hurried up the steps, the crowd scattering to right and left at his approach, sprang into his hansom, and drove away.
"You may consider your fortune made, young man," said the doctor gleefully, as he and Bert went back into the room. Lord Ravenscourt's coming was to prove a good thing for him also, but that he could not foresee.
His foresight concerning the children proved true. Lord Ravenscourt was a good friend to them for his daughter's sake. Bert never knew again what it was to be lonely and ragged and hungry.
Prin's repentance was genuine. As she regained health and strength, her life was lived on a higher level. Her feet were on the ladder the top of which reaches to heaven, and she was seeking to follow in the steps of Lady Millicent, who had followed Christ.
Bert from time to time had good news of his old friend, Mr. Corney, or, as he now signed his letters, "Cornelius Theophilus Grant." His hopes for his sister were fulfilled, and she too was climbing the ladder and trampling under foot the sins of the past, strengthened by the Mighty Friend, whose hand she grasped as she toiled upward.
Bert could never forget the experiences of his childhood, nor lose his vivid consciousness of the evil that ruins human lives. His strongest desire as he grew up was to fight that evil—the evil within as well as that without—trusting for the victory to Him, whose is the "kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever."
THE END.
Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.