"I wonder if I asked Uncle Jasper to lend it to me if he would?" she mused; then she recollected the decided way in which he had taken it from her, upon her questioning him when some day meant, and felt certain he would not. She crossed the room to the safe and tried the fastening. It opened very easily, being unlocked. Celia's breath came short and fast with excitement as she held the door half open and looked inside. There was the jewel case exactly where she had seen Sir Jasper place it. She fingered it cautiously, and found that it, too, was unlocked.
"How very careless of Uncle Jasper!" she thought as she lifted the cover of the case and glanced at its contents. A sigh of mingled admiration and regret escaped her lips as her eyes fell on the butterfly brooch. How beautiful it was! How the diamonds sparkled! The hot blood flooded Celia's face from brow to chin as a sudden temptation assailed her. Why should she not borrow the brooch? She would easily find an opportunity of replacing it after her return from T— and Sir Jasper would not discover that it was missing, for he had told her that he hardly ever looked at the jewels.
Her fingers strayed towards the coveted ornament. She touched it gently, then took it up, and shut down the lid of the case. She was going to leave the room when her ears caught the sound of Sir Jasper's footsteps, and she hastily retreated to the window, where she stood with her back to the light, facing the room, the butterfly brooch now safely concealed in her pocket.
"Ah, golden locks!" the old man exclaimed, "is that you? So you've come to look me up? I have not quite finished my writing yet, for I was called away to see one of my tenants." He hobbled up to the safe, into which he placed a paper, then fastened and securely locked it, removing the key. "Don't wait for me," he proceeded, "for I shall not be at leisure for nearly an hour."
"Very well, Uncle Jasper," Celia replied, and was leaving the room when he called her back.
"One minute, my dear, you'll want a little extra money in your pocket, now you're going visiting, eh? Here, take this!" —and he slipped a coin into her hand.
Celia glanced at it quickly, and saw it was a sovereign. She was quite overpowered by his kindness, and for a moment her self-control forsook her.
"Oh, Uncle Jasper, I don't deserve it! Indeed I don't deserve it!" she cried, and there was the sound of tears in her voice.
"There, there, get along with you," he replied, pushing her gently out of the room, "I am the best judge of whether you deserve it or not."
She found herself standing in the hall, the library door closed against her, the butterfly brooch in her pocket, and the sovereign in her hand. Slowly she walked upstairs, and went to her own bedroom, where she took the brooch from her pocket and examined it closely, her heart filled with most conflicting emotions.
"I suppose I ought not to have taken it," she thought, "but, oh, it is very, very beautiful! Uncle Jasper will never find out it is not in the jewel case, and when I come home, no doubt I shall soon get an opportunity of putting it back. After all, it can be no great harm to take it, for it will be my own some day. Let me see, where can I keep it in safety?"
She wrapped the glittering jewel in a soft pocket-handkerchief, and thrust it right down in a corner at the bottom of the box which contained her clothes; then she put the sovereign in her purse, and went once more to join her mother and sister.
"Uncle Jasper is still writing," she informed them. "Look, mother! Look, Joy!" and she opened her purse and showed them his present.
"Half a sovereign!" Joy cried. "No, a sovereign! Did Uncle Jasper give it to you? Oh, how very kind of him!"
Mrs. Wallis noticed that Celia's hands were trembling, and supposed the magnitude of the gift had startled her, for she knew neither of her little daughters had ever owned a whole sovereign before. "It is indeed most kind and most generous of Uncle Jasper," she said, greatly pleased herself. "You are rich, Celia—quite a young person of property!"
"Yes," Celia, agreed with a smile. "It is a lot of money, isn't it? I shall buy—" She paused whilst she reflected on the many things that a sovereign would purchase. A vision of laces, ribbons and such-like trifles of feminine adornment passed before her mind's eye. Perhaps her mother guessed this, for after a moment's hesitation she advised:
"Don't fritter the money away, Celia. Uncle Jasper has given it to you to spend as you please, but do use your judgment in laying it out to advantage, and don't be tempted to get rid of it too quickly, for it will be nice for you to have money in your pocket whilst you are at the Tillotsons; you do not know what calls you may have on your purse."
"Oh, I'll be very careful," Celia returned, thinking this counsel unnecessary.
"That's right, my dear."
"Fancy having a whole sovereign of your own!" Joy exclaimed. "If any one had told you six months ago how rich you would be to-day, you would not have believed it. Why, Celia, do you remember what a long time we had to save our money before we could buy Eric a birthday present last year?"
"I don't want to remember it," Celia replied. "It was horrid being so poor, and having to scrape and save for everything we wanted. Oh, here comes Uncle Jasper!" He had finished his letters much before he thought he would.
As the conversation was taking a turn contrary to her liking, she went to meet the old man, who, after walking up and down the terrace a few times, sat down between Mrs. Wallace and Joy on the garden seat.
"I've given Celia a sovereign," he said, "and here's one for you, Joy. Well, aren't you going to have it?"
Joy was so surprised that she had made no movement to accept his gift; now, however, she held out her hand, and took the coin from him, stammering her thanks.
"I—I—thank you—oh, thank you!" she murmured, confusedly.
"I will let Eric have a sovereign, too, by-and-by," Sir Jasper said, turning his attention from Joy to her mother; "we must 'whip all dogs alike,' you know," he added with a chuckle.
Mrs. Wallis, deeply touched by his generosity to her children, began to thank him, but he held up his hand to stop her.
"Oh, Joy, I'm so glad!" Celia whispered to her sister. She was indeed quite delighted. It was upon her conscience that she had allowed Sir Jasper to think ill of Joy, and she now thought the past was forgotten, or at any rate that Sir Jasper had determined not to revert to it again. "Aren't you pleased?" she asked, as her sister still remained silent.
Joy nodded. There were tears in her eyes, and a lump in her throat which prevented her speaking. She felt her few, stammering words of thanks to Sir Jasper had but ill-expressed the deep sense of gratitude which filled her heart; but she had been utterly incapable of saying more when she had accepted his gift. What must he think of her? She feared he would imagine she did not appreciate his kindness. Oh, she hoped he would not think her ungrateful.
The following day Celia took her departure, Sir Jasper's carriage conveying her and her luggage to the lawyer's house, where she was received by her friend with open arms and many demonstrations of affection.
"I'm so glad you're come," Lulu said, as she led the way upstairs to the room next to her own, which had been prepared for her visitor. "It's so dreadfully dull for me during the holidays, for father's in his office all day, and I've no one to speak to! I'll unpack your box for you, shall I?"
"Oh, thank you," Celia answered, and then it was that she wondered how she was going to account to Lulu for having a handsome diamond brooch in her possession. "I think I won't trouble you," she added, hastily, and though the other protested it would be no trouble at all, but quite the contrary, Celia insisted on unpacking her box herself, whilst her companion looked on, and she was successful in hiding the trinket from Lulu's curious eyes.
"I must think what I can tell Lulu about it before she sees it," Celia reflected; "it would never do to let her know I had taken it without Uncle Jasper's permission. Perhaps I had better say he gave it to me, for he did give it to me in a way—it would not be an actual story."
Thus did Celia take one step further in the slough of deception in which she had set her feet. She was now deep in the mire, but had no intention whatever of turning back; she knew she was doing wrong, though she tried to still her conscience; but her vanity, and a great desire to appear of importance, stood between her and the straight, narrow path which from her earliest years her mother had urged her to tread.
ALTHOUGH Eric now had his great chum within only half-a-mile of the Moat House, he did not, on that account, neglect his favourite sister, and managed so that she should be included in many of his pleasures. He persuaded Mrs. Wallis and Joy to visit the cricket field and watch the boys at play of an evening, and on more than one occasion Miss Pring and her niece accompanied them.
Sir Jasper took a great deal of interest in the Crumleigh Cricket Club, and when the Vicar called at the Moat House one afternoon, about a week after Celia had gone to T—, he considerably surprised him by suggesting that the members of the club should be presented with caps.
"They would be very proud of them, I have no doubt," Mr. Cole replied, "but I don't know—"
He paused, for he had been about to say he did not know who was going to provide the caps. The conversation was taking place in the drawing-room, where several visitors were assembled, including Miss Pring, her niece, and Lawrence Puttenham.
"But you don't know who is going to give the caps, I suppose you were going to remark?" proceeded Sir Jasper. "Well, I will. You must decide upon the colours. What do you think of dark blue caps embroidered with C.C.C., for Crumleigh Cricket Club, in gold letters, in front?"
"The very thing!" Eric cried, excitedly, breaking in upon the conversation. He and Lawrence Puttenham had been listening with great interest. "Uncle Jasper, I never knew anyone like you! You're a regular brick! A downright good sort! Isn't he, Putty?"
"Sir Jasper is very kind," Putty answered in his usual sober fashion.
"Kind! I should think so!" the Vicar exclaimed. He was deeply gratified by this sign that the old man took an interest in his work in the parish, and the success of the Crumleigh Cricket Club was what he greatly desired.
"Yes, dark blue caps with gold letters would be most suitable," he agreed.
"I will order the caps by to-night's post," Sir Jasper said decisively, "that is quite settled. And I'll tell you what I think you had better do, Mr. Cole—bring the boys here to tea one evening, and my niece shall present the caps to them. What do you say to that plan, Margaret?" he questioned, turning to Mrs. Wallis.
"I think it's a capital idea of yours, having them here to tea," she answered, "and I am sure they would all enjoy it; but I consider you ought to give them the caps yourself, Uncle Jasper."
"Yes, yes!" everyone insisted.
"Well, well, I'll think about it," Sir Jasper said, good-humouredly. "I'll let you know as soon as the caps arrive," he told the Vicar, "and then you can settle when will be the most suitable day for the tea. I expect it will have to be a Saturday, eh?"
"Yes, Saturday for preference," Mr. Cole replied, "for most of the boys leave work early on that day."
"Very well. They shall have a substantial meat tea, and—"
"And you'll preside, won't you, Uncle Jasper?" Eric broke in eagerly.
"No, my boy. The Vicar shall take the top of the table, for the boys will feel at home with him and they would not with me. I want them to have a thoroughly enjoyable time. The meal shall be prepared for them in the dining-room, and after they have partaken of it, they shall have their caps. Yes, perhaps I may present them myself."
"Isn't it jolly of him?" Eric exclaimed, as he and Lawrence Puttenham wandered out into the garden a short while later. "He's really very good-hearted. Did I tell you he gave me a sovereign the other day? He was equally generous to the girls. What a lark it will be having the boys here to tea! Uncle Jasper's sure to provide a splendid feed for them. He's a kind old chap really, isn't he? I wish he wasn't so down on poor Joy, though."
"Why is he?" inquired Putty. He liked the sister who was so devoted to her brother; and had remarked with surprise that she always seemed shy and embarrassed in Sir Jasper's presence. "What has she done? Has she offended him in some way?"
Eric explained the situation, and waxed hot and indignant as he told how Sir Jasper believed Joy to have deliberately deceived him.
"She wouldn't have told him an untruth, I'm certain of that," he said, decidedly. "If she had done wrong she'd have said so. She wouldn't have dreamt of telling a story."
"I expect there's been a misunderstanding," Putty said soothingly, for Eric's face was flushed with anger as he reflected on Sir Jasper's suspicion of his dearly loved sister. "It'll all work out straight, you'll find—things always do. Right is right, you know. You don't think, do you, that the novel the puppy destroyed belonged to your other sister?"
"To Celia?" Eric cried, in astonishment.
"Yes," Putty answered, quietly.
"I never thought of that. But no, I don't think it's likely. Celia's not fond of reading. Besides, she'd never stand by—"
He paused abruptly, an expression of doubt crossing his face. Putty proceeded:
"Many people read light literature who never read anything else. I'll tell you what made me suggest your sister Celia might have been the culprit in this case. I was it a stationer's shop at T— the other day with Mr. Cole, and I saw her there with another girl, and they were looking over a heap of cheap, sensational novels. They didn't see either Mr. Cole or me, because there were a good many people in the shop, and we were behind them."
"Did Mr. Cole notice Celia?" Eric inquired.
"Oh, yes! But he didn't speak to her. He told me afterwards who her companion was."
"Lulu Tillotson, of course?"
"Yes. I say, Wallis, what a dressed up doll she is!"
"Is she? Yes, so Joy told me. I've never seen Celia's great friend myself, but I heard Uncle Jasper say her father is one of the richest men in T—, and he thinks nothing is too good for his daughter. I expect Celia finds herself in clover there. By the way, did they purchase any of the novels?"
"I don't know, for they were still looking over them when we left the shop. They were whispering and giggling a good deal, and—"
Putty broke off, looking confused, as it occurred to him that he ought not to be telling this to Celia's brother. Eric's expression was grave; he was thinking deeply, and wondering if it was possible that, owing to some mistake, Joy was suffering for her sister's fault. If so, Celia must be aware of the fact.
Perhaps no one at the Moat House missed Celia quite so much as Sir Jasper. He had grown accustomed to her companionship of an evening, and declared the house was not like the same place without her.
"She is so winning and bright," he said to his niece on one occasion, "and so invariably sweet-tempered. Ah, I shall be glad when she returns! Celia is my favourite of your children, Margaret; which is yours?"
"I love them all alike," Mrs. Wallis replied. She was not surprised to hear her uncle's open acknowledgment of his preference for Celia. "I don't think a mother should feel any difference in her affection for her children—I am sure I do not. They are all very dear to me, and all very fond of each other, I do believe."
"Eric is an outspoken lad," Sir Jasper remarked, with approval in his tone; "but did you not tell me the other day that he is inclined to be idle at school?"
"I fear so, judging from the reports I receive of him. This last term he has done better, however. A steady, studious lad like Lawrence Puttenham is the very friend for Eric."
"Your boy is all right, Margaret," Sir Jasper said, smiling; "he's good at heart."
The mother's face brightened at this praise of her son. At that moment the sound of music fell upon their ears, and Sir Jasper sat quietly listening.
"How well Joy plays!" he exclaimed at length. "She improves rapidly. She practices a long time every day, does she not?"
"Yes, she shows real talent for music, so every one says; and Miss Mary Pring is delighted with the progress She is making."
"She ought to have a first-rate music-master, by-and-by," Sir Jasper asserted; "but I suppose Miss Mary Pring is competent to teach her for the present?"
"Oh, yes," Mrs. Wallis agreed. "I should so like to be able to give Joy a really good musical education; I believe if she had that she would make her mark as a pianist, for I am sure she would work hard and conscientiously."
"She is very desirous of earning money by her music, she tells me."
"Yes, poor child. You must not think her mercenary, Uncle Jasper. Remember, she has known what poverty is. I don't mean want, but the poverty which denies everything but the merest necessaries. My little girls went to school at A—, but I could not afford to have them taught accomplishments, so that I had to teach them music myself. Is it any wonder that Joy should wish to turn her one talent to some account?"
"Certainly not. What about Celia? She is not musical, I know; but I suppose she shows a talent for something?"
"No, I do not think she does."
"She is not ambitious, like Joy?"
"Not in the same way," Mrs. Wallis answered, hesitatingly. "Celia is very fond of the good things of this life. I fear she is a little selfish."
"Oh, I should hardly think that! I have proved that she is a kind-hearted little soul. I hope she is enjoying her visit to the Tillotsons. Let me see, you heard from her this morning, I think you told me?"
Happening to have Celia's letter in her pocket, Mrs. Wallis produced it, and handed it to her uncle, desiring him to read it. It ran as follows:
"My dear mother,—Can you fancy that I have been here ten days? I cannot, for the time has simply flown. I am enjoying my visit very much, and Mr. Tillotson, who is most kind to me, hopes you will not hurry me home. Next Tuesday is the flower-show; it is to be a very grand affair, and Lulu is having a new frock made for the occasion; she has decided to have it white, like mine, so that we may look like sisters.
"I hope dear Uncle Jasper is very well; please give him my best love, and tell him I am finding the money he gave me very useful. I suppose Eric is spending most of his timewith Lawrence Puttenham, and I expect Joy is wishingshe had come with me. I have been with Lulu several times to tea at different people's houses, and have played tennis or croquet nearly every day, for Lulu belongs to a club, and she is allowed to take a friend with her.
"I will write again after the flower-show and tell you all about it.
"With much love, dear mother,
"I am," "Your affectionate daughter," "CELIA."
"A very nicely-written, well-expressed letter," said Sir Jasper, as he returned the epistle to Mrs. Wallis. "She is evidently having a good time. Tillotson told me how pleased he was to see the friendship between his little girl and yours. I was confident he would do all he could to make Celia enjoy her visit. It is a pity Joy did not go with her sister."
"Joy did not wish to leave whilst her brother was at home; besides, Lulu and Celia are so wrapped up in each other, that I think Joy is best where she is. Hark! She is playing your favourite piece, now, Uncle Jasper."
He listened with pleasure as the strains of "The Last Rose of Summer" came through the open drawing-room window. Joy's rendering of the old tune was exquisitely tender and sympathetic, and Sir Jasper's face softened into a gentle, retrospective smile. Afterwards Mrs. Wallis told the little girl how pleased her uncle had been with her playing.
The cricket caps arrived in due course; and one Saturday afternoon the members of the Crumleigh Cricket Club all visited the Moat House, by Sir Jasper Amery's invitation, and were entertained to a substantial tea, at which, as had been arranged, the Vicar presided. The boys, who were somewhat shy at first, were soon put at their ease; and Eric and Lawrence Puttenham, seated one on either side of the long dining-table, kept up the conversation, and would not allow it to flag.
Sam Dart was the least talkative of the visitors, but he appeared to approve of the proceedings; and Eric rightly guessed that his unusual quietude was caused by a laudable desire that his unruly tongue should give no offence, and respected him for his silence.
The boys did full justice to the good things provided for them, and after the meal was over, they all repaired to the terrace outside the house, where Sir Jasper and Mrs. Wallis and Joy were awaiting them. Then the caps were duly presented by Sir Jasper, who made a gracious little speech to each recipient, and subsequently the Vicar thanked the master of the Moat House, in the name of the Crumleigh Cricket Club, for his kindly interest and generosity.
"It has given me much pleasure to entertain the members of the club," Sir Jasper replied, in return, as he looked around on the eager faces of the group surrounding him, "and I shall hope to see you all again another year."
"Three cheers for Sir Jasper Amery!" cried a voice at this instant; whereupon, the cheers were promptly given with great heartiness, and Sir Jasper's wrinkled countenance expressed his gratification.
"Did you notice which of the boys it was who called for three cheers for Uncle Jasper?" Eric asked Joy later on, when the visitors had left.
"No, I did not," was the reply; "did you?"
"Yes. It was Sam Dart. I believe that was the only occasion on which he opened his lips during all the time he was here. He spoke to some purpose then, didn't he?"
"Did the boys enjoy their tea?" Joy inquired.
"Rather! Uncle Jasper has treated the club very handsomely, hasn't he?"
"Yes, indeed! He is very good and kind. And, do you know," she proceeded happily, "he has been quite nice to me to-day, and once he called me 'my dear,' just as he used to do before—"
"Oh, by the way," Eric broke in, "I want to ask you something. Did that novel there's been so much fuss about belong to Celia, by any chance? You needn't look so startled, Joy. Say yes or no."
But this Joy stoutly declined to do, and though her brother pressed her for an answer to his question, she persistently refused to give it. He grew quite cross with her at length, and declared he would ascertain the truth of the matter. "I believe you're shielding Celia," he said, suspiciously; "and since you're so obstinate, I won't tell you why I think so. I know more than you imagine, and I'll find out the rest."
THE morning of the T— flower show dawned clear and bright, with the promise of a cloudless day. It would have been oppressively hot but for the breeze which sprang up about noon, bringing with it a taste of fresh, moorland air. The show was to be held in a large field on the outskirts of the town, and was to be formally opened at two o'clock by the member who represented the division in which T— was situated in Parliament; so that after an early luncheon Lulu Tillotson and her visitor hurried to their respective rooms to be dressed in time to accompany Mr. Tillotson to the opening ceremony.
Lulu was ready first. Her white frock suited her far better than the gay coloured garments she usually affected; and she would have been very suitably attired for the occasion if she had not seen fit to add her favourite long gold chain, and her jingling bangles. After a last glance in the looking-glass she joined her friend, whom she found putting the finishing touches to her toilet.
"How nice you look, Celia!" Lulu exclaimed with honest admiration in her tones. "Your eyes are shining like stars, and there's such a lovely pink colour in your cheeks. How I wish I was as pretty as you!"
Celia laughed—a flattered laugh it was—and said: "Oh, nonsense!" but she was really very pleased.
"Your dress is simply sweet," Lulu continued critically, "and, oh, Celia, what a beautiful brooch!"
"Yes, isn't it?" Celia returned, her colour deepening. She had fastened her frock at the throat with the butterfly brooch, and the jewel with its sparkling diamonds was handsome and striking enough to attract attention at once. "I'm glad you like it," she added.
"Like it! Why, I think it's one of the prettiest I ever saw," Lulu cried, enthusiastically. "How is it I never saw it before? Is it new? Have you had it long?"
"No—that is—yes. I have had it since the night before I came here," Celia answered, rather confusedly.
"Oh, I suppose Sir Jasper Amery gave it to you?"
"Yes."
Celia turned her back upon her friend, and pretended to be searching in a drawer for her gloves, for she was conscious that her face was crimson. Lulu, however, was thinking of the brooch, and not of its wearer; she seemed quite excited.
"Why, Celia, the stones must be real diamonds!" she exclaimed. "I thought, at first, they were only paste; but if Sir Jasper gave you the brooch, you may depend upon it the stones are real."
"Yes, I know they are," Celia admitted, reflecting that she might as well tell the truth when she could safely do so. "The brooch belonged to his wife."
"And he gave it to you? How wonderfully kind of him! You must indeed be a great favourite of his, Celia. Oh, you lucky girl to have diamonds like that! They must be worth a heap of money."
"I expect so."
"I remember hearing my father say that the late Lady Amery had very valuable jewels. Mind you don't lose your brooch! Is the pin quite firm? Yes, that's right. Now, if you're ready we'll go downstairs, for it's quite time to start."
In the hall they found Mr. Tillotson awaiting them. He scanned the two girls approvingly, but did not particularly notice Celia's brooch, and, much to Celia's relief, Lulu did not call his attention to it.
The flower show proved a very great success, and the number of people who attended it far exceeded everyone's expectations. The flowers, fruit, and vegetables were exhibited under the shelter of tents, whilst a military band was in attendance. After the opening ceremony, Mr. Tillotson kindly devoted himself to his young companions, and drew their attention to the rarest exhibits; but he soon found they were far more interested in the people than in the flowers, and when after exchanging a few words of conversation with a friend he looked around and found they had disappeared, he did not seek for them, telling himself he would be sure to come across them again before very long.
Meanwhile, Lulu and Celia wandered from one tent to another, watching the crowd, admiring the light summer gowns of the ladies, and criticising everyone they saw. Now and then they met people Lulu knew, and Celia was introduced to a great many strangers who were favourably impressed by her winning manners and pretty face. One old lady Celia overheard called her a "sweet child," which made her heart swell with happiness; but she was considerably taken aback when she heard some one else say:
"Where did she get that brooch, I wonder? It's spurious, of course. Most unsuitable for a girl of that age!"
"Celia, we have not seen Miss Pring's onions," Lulu whispered at length. "I confess I am curious to know if they have taken a prize. Let us pay a visit to the vegetable tent, shall we?"
"Yes, if you like. Oh, look, there's Miss Mary Pring talking to Mr. Cole! Miss Pring is sure to be here somewhere. I knew she was coming."
The Vicar and his companion did not notice the two girls, for they were closely examining some cut dahlia blooms.
"We won't speak to them now," Celia continued; "let us go and look at the vegetables."
They accordingly did so. It was not nearly so crowded in the vegetable tent, so they had little difficulty in finding the stall where the onions were laid out for inspection.
"'First prize: Miss Pring, Home Vale, Crumleigh,'" Lulu read out, examining one of the tickets. "Well, I'm glad. They are beauties, aren't they, Celia? Such monsters! They deserve the first prize. There can be no doubt about that. Oh, look, Celia, there's Miss Pring herself standing near the entrance with father."
"Need we speak to her?" Celia inquired.
"I suppose we must; and I should rather like to congratulate her on having won the first prize. Yes, father's beckoning to us. Come along. You'll see how she'll try to take the conceit out of me."
But Miss Pring made no such attempt to-day. She was in high good-humour, and the little girls' white frocks met with her approval.
"How cool and nice you both look," she said, after she had shaken hands with them. "Your father has been wondering where you were, Lulu. One can easily miss another in a crowd like this."
"We have been looking at your onions," Lulu replied. "I am so glad they have taken the first prize."
"So am I," said Celia.
"So am I," echoed Miss Pring, a pleased smile lighting up her plain countenance. "I feel my labour is rewarded. By the way, Celia, I saw your sister yesterday; she took tea with us at Home Vale, and desired me to keep my eyes open for you at the flower show, and report to her how you are looking, so you must not think me rude if I regard you scrutinously, for Joy will be certain to ask me scores of questions about you when I see her next."
Miss Pring paused, and much to Celia's alarm, fixed her eyes on the butterfly brooch, which, for the moment, the little girl had quite forgotten. She made no remark, however, though she certainly wondered where Celia had procured the ornament; she herself was not a judge of jewels, and she concluded the diamonds were merely Parisian—never for an instant did she dream they were real.
"Have you seen your brother?" Miss Pring inquired, removing her eyes from the brooch to Celia's countenance, which evinced astonishment at her question.
"No! Eric? Is he here?"
"Yes. He came with Mr. Cole and Lawrence Puttenham. You will be sure to run across him directly."
Celia was delighted at the prospect of meeting her brother, and her fair face beamed with happiness until she suddenly bethought herself again of the butterfly brooch. She knew Eric's sharp eyes would immediately notice it, and that he would question her about it. What should she do? She began to wish the brooch was securely locked away in Sir Jasper's safe, instead of being in her possession.
Mr. Tillotson insisted on Miss Pring and the two girls now accompanying him to the refreshment tent, where they all had tea. There they encountered Miss Mary Pring and Mr. Cole, and Celia was uncomfortably conscious that the former took note of her brooch with considerable surprise, though she made no comment upon it. Then Celia caught sight of Eric and his friend, at the far end of the tent, eating ices, and the pleasure she experienced at the sight of her brother was spoilt by the fear that the moment they met he would commence to ply her with embarrassing questions about her borrowed ornament.
"I see Eric and Lawrence Puttenham," she said to Lulu, "I should like to speak to them. Won't you come with me and be introduced to them?"
Lulu agreed readily, for she was curious to see her friend's brother, of whom she had heard so much. So the girls began to make their way slowly through the crowd.
Seizing a favourable opportunity when her companion's eyes were turned away from her, Celia unfastened the butterfly brooch and slipped it into her pocket. She was vexed to be obliged to hide it, but reflected that it was better to do that than to have to account for it to Eric.
Eric met his sister warmly, and Celia introduced Lulu to him and to Lawrence Puttenham.
"Will you have some ices?" Eric inquired, politely, looking from one girl to the other.
They both thanked him, but declined, saying they had been having tea; and as the boys had finished their ices, they all strolled out into the open air, where they were soon joined by the Misses Pring, Mr. Tillotson, and Mr. Cole.
Eric found an opportunity for a short conversation with his sister alone, and gave her an account of the doings of the inmates of the Moat House during her absence, including the story of Sir Jasper's generosity to the Crumleigh Cricket Club, to all of which Celia listened with the greatest interest.
"How is Joy getting on with Uncle Jasper?" she asked at length.
"Rather better," was the reply. "He asks her to play the piano to him every evening now."
Celia appeared very pleased, and her pretty face lit up with a bright smile as she exclaimed:
"Oh, that's right! I'm glad of that. Does Joy miss me much?"
"Don't know, I'm sure. She doesn't say. I say, Celia, your friend Lulu looks rather jolly."
"She is rather jolly," Celia agreed, with a laugh.
"I shall tell mother how well that white frock suits you," he said with decided approval in his tone, as he looked her over critically. "She" —nodding his head at Lulu, who at a little distance was talking animatedly with her other friends— "would look better if she didn't wear so many ornaments and fal-lals. She reminds me of the little girl in the nursery rhyme, made of 'ribbons and rings, and all fine things.'"
Celia smiled at this, but she looked a little uneasy. Suddenly she asked:
"Eric, do you think you could lend me a few shillings?"
"What! You don't mean to say you've spent the whole of that sovereign Uncle Jasper gave you?" he exclaimed, in accents of intense surprise.
"Yes, I do. You needn't look so astonished. How often have I heard you say that money slips away in the most remarkable manner!"
"So it does," he agreed.
"There were so many things I wanted, and Lulu spends so much, and—and I've only a few coppers left."
"Well, you're welcome to these," Eric said, counting three shillings into her hand. "I'm afraid I can't let you have more. Shall I ask mother to send you—"
"No, no! And, please don't tell her I've spent all my money. This will be plenty for what I want. Thank you so much. I daresay you think I've been extravagant, but a sovereign is not a lot of money, after all."
Eric was silent whilst he reflected that not so very long ago Celia would have considered a sovereign almost a small fortune. Times were changed indeed.
"I say, Celia," he said presently, "there's something I want to speak to you about. Was it you, by any chance, who had been reading that novel which Wag tore up?"
"What makes you ask that?" Celia questioned, the colour flooding her face.
"Never mind. Tell me—was it you?"
"No."
Celia spoke the lie direct, with a boldness which almost astonished herself. Eric looked relieved, for the bare suspicion that Celia had allowed Joy to suffer for her fault had been repugnant to him.
"Then I suppose the book really must have belonged to one of the servants after all!" he exclaimed. "But I know you do read literature of that sort. Putty saw you in a shop the other day with Lulu Tillotson looking over a lot of trashy novels."
"Putty saw me!" Celia cried, wrathfully. "What right had he to spy on me?"
"He was not spying on you. He was in the shop with Mr. Cole, and he couldn't help seeing you. I don't think mother would like you to read silly books like—"
"Oh, Eric, you won't tell her!"
"Am I a sneak, Celia? But, you oughtn't to read what you know she would disapprove of. It isn't straight of you. I don't believe you'd have done it a year ago."
This was true, and Celia knew it. She hung her head, and when she looked up again, her blue eyes were swimming in tears. She was wondering what her brother would think of her if he knew of the brooch in her pocket, and how she had procured it. She was very sensitive on the point of what people thought of her, and set great store on the good opinion of all with whom she was in any way connected; but she rarely paused to consider nowadays what He thought of her, whose approval should have been her first consideration; and yet, like Joy and Eric, when a tiny child her mother had taught her to say: "Thou God seest me," and almost her first lesson in life had been to learn the meaning of those solemn words.
Eric said no more, and they rejoined their friends; but Celia was unusually subdued in spirits for the rest of the day. She had not relished being taken to task by her brother, though it was not until after they had said good-bye that she commenced to feel actual resentment against him. She came to the conclusion that he had had no right to question her as he had done, and that it was no business of his how she chose to amuse herself.
The August evening was closing in when Mr. Tillotson took the two girls home. They assured him they had spent a pleasant, happy time, and ran upstairs to divest themselves of their best frocks. Then it was that Celia, as she took the butterfly brooch from her pocket, and carefully placed it, as before, at the bottom of her box, was forced to acknowledge to herself that the glittering jewel had spoilt her perfect enjoyment of the flower show, and that she had paid for her vanity with an uneasy mind.
"THE weather is hopeless, there's no doubt about that," said Lulu Tillotson, as she lolled on a sofa in her bedroom, on the afternoon subsequent to the flower show. "What a good thing it was it did not rain like this yesterday; if it had the show would have been an utter failure. Oh, dear me, I'm tired of everything—the day, the weather, and myself!"
Celia, who was seated in a comfortable wicker chair, with her feet on an ottoman, and a novel on her knee, made no response. She had come to a most entertaining point in her story, and had no desire to be interrupted. Her taste for light literature was increasing, fed as it had been by a series of sensational stories during the past fortnight. Lulu regarded her with a decidedly discontented expression on her face. She was in the humour for conversation, and seeing her friend was not, she proceeded crossly:
"Do you hear what I say, Celia? Talk, and make yourself agreeable, do! You're not a very cheerful companion for a wet day. Do you always consider your own pleasure before other people's?"
Celia closed the book, and looked up with a flash of resentment in her eyes. Lulu was not very polite to her, considering she was a visitor, she thought; but she refrained from uttering the retort which rose to her lips, and replied pacifically:
"I don't know what you mean, Lulu. I'm quite ready to talk. But what's wrong?"
"Everything! I feel so ill-tempered and dissatisfied."
"I don't know that you have anything to be dissatisfied about, though. No one can help the weather; we must put up with the rain, and hope it will clear soon."
"Oh, it's not the rain that I mind so much," Lulu cried, impatiently, "but of course a wet day like this is very depressing. I'm tired of things in general."
Celia stared at her companion in amazement. What could Lulu mean? Had she not everything that heart could wish? And she had only herself to please in all the world, for her father seldom interfered with her pursuits, and was satisfied to let her go her own way.
"Don't you ever feel discontented, Celia?" Lulu inquired.
"Yes, sometimes," was the frank response, "when I can't have things I want. Before we came to the Moat House, that was pretty often."
"Father told me your mother was poorly off. You lived in a little house at A—, did you not? I wish you'd tell me about it."
"There's really not much to tell." Celia was rather ashamed of the small way in which she and her family had lived, but since Lulu evidently knew something of their circumstances, she saw no reason why she should not gratify her curiosity. "It was a poky little place," she admitted, "the dining-room about a quarter of the size of yours, and the drawing-room smaller still. We had no garden worth mentioning, and the house was semi-detached."
"And you only kept one servant?"
"Yes—Jane. Joy writes to her occasionally still, I believe."
"Does she? Fancy writing to a servant!"
"Oh, that's Joy all over! She makes friends with all sorts of people; she's so odd. And she doesn't mind in the least what she does. She used to help Jane in the kitchen—washing dishes, and so on. And she was always ready to answer the front door bell. Joy is very obliging."
"Yes, I've noticed that. Tell me about the school at A—, where you used to go."
"Oh, it was not much of a school! Joy had several friends amongst the girls, though, I believe she was sorry to say good-bye to them. For my part, I hope we shall never go back to A—"
"I don't suppose you will," Lulu said meaningly. "Sir Jasper will want to keep you at the Moat House, you will see. I shouldn't be surprised if he makes you his heiress. I shouldn't indeed! More unlikely things have happened than that, before now. You remember the story we were reading the other day, about a poor gutter child who was adopted by a rich, old man? I thought of you when I read it. Depend upon it, Sir Jasper would not have given you that beautiful, diamond brooch if he had not some intention of that kind. Diamonds are not meant for poor people to wear."
Celia had listened silently, her eyes downcast, her face flushing and paling by turns. She had not altogether relished being put on a level with a gutter child.
"Sir Jasper does not give Joy diamonds," Lulu proceeded; "he makes a great difference between you and her. I wonder if she minds. Do you know, I believe she is happier than either you or I, Celia. I've often thought so."
"Why? What makes you think that?" Celia asked, curiously.
"Oh, many things! You know, I saw a good deal of her that time I was at the Moat House, when your ankle was sprained; and she and I had several talks together. She was very good to me, considering I'd never taken much notice of her before; I saw she was trying to make my visit pass pleasantly. But oh, how upset she seemed because I had lent you 'Lady Isabella's Treachery!' She gave me quite a lecture about the sin of deception, and I've had a feeling ever since that she has formed a very poor opinion of me. I've no doubt she was right in all she said; but, in spite of that, here am I as devoted to light literature as ever, you see!"
"Joy is very particular about—about trifles," Celia returned, scarcely knowing whether to take her companion seriously or not.
"I remember I told her I never troubled my head whether things were right or wrong," Lulu remarked reflectively, "and she said I should care, and that we ought to live as in God's sight—remembering He sees us. It's an awful thought that, isn't it? And yet, of course it's true. God does see us."
"Yes," Celia agreed, uneasily.
"I don't know that I ever committed any great sin," Lulu proceeded, "but I've done scores of little mean tricks that I shouldn't like to confess to anyone, and I know you have too."
"What do you mean?" Celia cried, half in indignation, half in alarm.
"Just what I say! I've seen a good bit of you now, and I've found out that you're pretty much like myself. You please yourself whenever you can, and are not above using a little deception to get your own way. What I can't understand is, why you're like that. I think if I'd had a mother, like you, I should be altogether different. I like you very much, Celia; we suit each other capitally; but I'm not blind, and I know we're neither of us a patch on Joy for goodness, and why Sir Jasper hasn't found that out I can't imagine."
There was a frankness in this speech which considerably surprised Celia. She had thought her friend perfectly satisfied with herself, but the picture Lulu had seen fit to draw of them both had shown that not to be the case. What was the cause of her obvious dissatisfaction?
"Oh, dear," exclaimed Lulu, yawning and stretching lazily, "how idle I feel, to be sure! I wish I had something to do. I wish Joy was here with that puppy she's so fond of, then we'd have some fun. I expect she and your brother have good times together, Celia?"
Celia assented. To amuse her companion, she gave her an account of the doings of the Crumleigh Cricket Club, and the tea which the members had had at the Moat House followed by the presentation of the caps.
"And you missed all that fun!" cried Lulu. "I expect you are vexed."
"No, I'm not particularly interested in the cricket club," Celia rejoined. "I'd far rather be here with you. Hark! Isn't that your father's voice?"
"Yes, he's calling me. I wonder what he wants?" Lulu rose from the sofa in a leisurely fashion; but her father calling her again, she ran downstairs and joined him in the hall. In a very short while she returned with all the dissatisfaction gone from her face.
"Oh, Celia," she cried, "father's going to take us to a concert to-night! A grand affair! He has just told me that he has bought tickets."
"Oh, how nice!" Celia exclaimed. "How very kind of Mr. Tillotson!"
"And he wishes us to put on the same frocks we wore at the flower show. He says several people remarked to him how well we looked. You'll wear your butterfly brooch, won't you? Think how the diamonds will flash by gaslight."
Celia hesitated. She had almost made up her mind not to wear the brooch again; but, when Lulu expressed surprise at her indecision, she reconsidered the matter, and finally said she would put it on to please her friend.
"And to please yourself too," Lulu retorted, laughingly. "Don't pretend you're not vain."
When Celia came downstairs dressed for the concert, Lulu drew her father's attention to the butterfly brooch, and told him it was a present from Sir Jasper.
"It is very pretty," he said, looking surprised. "I don't think I've seen you wear it before, have I?" he asked, doubtfully.
"I wore it at the flower show," Celia answered, avoiding his glance.
"I did not notice it."
"Everyone will notice it to-night, though," remarked Lulu, "for see how the stones sparkle by gaslight! I said they would."
"It is a very handsome brooch for a little girl," Mr. Tillotson said. "I believe Sir Jasper showed it to me some years ago. Did it not belong to his late wife? Yes, I thought so. It is a most valuable ornament, let me tell you. I am no judge of diamonds, myself, but I distinctly remember Sir Jasper telling me these were of the first water, and worth—I really forget the amount he named, but I know it was a lot of money."
Celia was shrewd enough to see that Mr. Tillotson was amazed to find the butterfly brooch in her possession. During the evening she constantly caught his gaze fixed upon the sparkling jewel at her neck, until she longed to take it out, and put it in her pocket as she had done on the previous afternoon at the flower show. Would he speak of it to Sir Jasper? she wondered. The possibility of his ever doing so struck terror to her heart.
It is almost needless to say that Celia's guilty conscience would not allow her to enjoy the entertainment; and she found herself wishing that her sister was there in her place. Joy was so fond of music that the concert would have been a greatly appreciated treat to her.
Many eyes were turned from time to time upon the fair, golden-haired girl who sat between Lulu and Mr. Tillotson, her blue eyes fixed upon the performers. She certainly did not look in the least unhappy, for she smiled when either of her companions addressed her, so that they were utterly unconscious of the misgivings and fears by which she was tortured.
It was all over at last, and Celia found herself following Mr. Tillotson from the crowded concert hall with Lulu close behind. She drew a breath of relief when they passed through the doorway into the street, and her spirits began to revive. She was quite determined never on any account to be tempted to wear the butterfly brooch again. It had completely ruined her happiness that evening. How foolish she had been ever to touch it! She had had no right to do so, she had known that at the time she had taken possession of it, though she had tried to stifle her conscience by telling herself that as the ornament would be hers some day, she was therefore doing no harm. When Lulu slipped her arm through hers, and discussed the different performers at the concert, Celia scarcely heard a word she was saying. Her great terror was that Mr. Tillotson might betray her to Sir Jasper when next they met by some mention of the butterfly brooch. She recalled Mr. Tillotson's look of blank amazement when Lulu had informed him the trinket had been Sir Jasper's gift, and felt that there was danger ahead for her.
"Oh, why did I ever touch it!" thought the girl despairingly. "I wish I had left it alone. I ought not to have taken it. It was like stealing it, really. Oh, I never meant to be a thief!"
"It was a splendid concert, wasn't it?" Lulu said, as she and her friend went upstairs together on their return. "Joy would have enjoyed it, would she not? I wish she had been there."
"I was wishing that all the time," Celia answered; "when I hear good music I always think of Joy."
The two girls went into their respective rooms, Lulu humming one of the airs she had heard at the concert, whilst Celia, her face wearing an unusually sober expression, the moment she was alone raised her hands to her throat for the purpose of unfastening the butterfly brooch, and placing it in safety. What was her horror to feel nothing but the lace which trimmed the neck of her gown! For a moment she stood perfectly still, too terror-stricken to stir; then, pulling herself together, she turned up the gas, rushed to the dressing-table and gazed at her reflection in the mirror with eyes distended with fright and despair. There were no diamonds sparkling at her throat. The butterfly brooch was gone!
WHEN Celia first discovered her loss, she was too shocked to utter a sound. She dropped into a chair and covered her face with her hands whilst she tried to collect her thoughts and make up her mind how to act. Then the full horror of her position fell upon her. The butterfly brooch was lost, there could be no doubt about that; and, as she would not be able to replace it, Sir Jasper would think it had been stolen, and even if she told the truth, he would never accept her explanation that she had only intended to borrow it for the time.
Had her mother been there, very likely Celia would have made a full confession to her of all her misdoings; but she shrank from telling either Lulu or Mr. Tillotson the true facts of the case. How could she say she had taken the brooch unknown to Sir Jasper when she had led them to believe he had made her a present of the jewel? She uttered a wail of distress as she reflected thus, which sound brought Lulu into the room, looking dismayed and startled, to ascertain what was amiss.
"For goodness sake, speak, Celia!" cried Lulu after several vain attempts to make her friend tell her trouble. "Are you ill? What is it?"
"My brooch!" gasped Celia, sobbing as if her heart would break, and raising a pail of miserable blue eyes bedewed with tears to Lulu's concerned face.
"Your brooch? The diamond brooch, do you mean?"
"Yes. I've lost it! Oh, what shall I do?" —and Celia wrung her hands despairingly.
"Lost it!" For a moment Lulu looked as shocked as her friend. "Oh, Celia, impossible!" she cried. "Perhaps you've dropped it in the room somewhere, or on the stairs."
A gleam of hope illuminated Celia's face, but it died away when, after an exhaustive search, no brooch could be found. The servants, summoned by Lulu, had joined in the search; and Mr. Tillotson, hearing a commotion, had come from the dining-room to learn what was wrong. Very grave had he looked on hearing that the butterfly brooch was lost, and late though it was, had put on his hat and overcoat, and had gone out. On his return, he explained that he had been to the concert hall, and to the police station, and added that nothing more could be done that night.
"Do you think there is a chance of the brooch being found?" Celia asked. She had ceased crying now, but her face looked very shocked and white. "Oh, how I wish I had not worn it!" she cried in great distress.
"I wish so, too," Mr. Tillotson replied gravely. "In fact, I cannot imagine what induced Sir Jasper to make you such a valuable present. I cannot possibly tell whether it is likely we shall ever see it again or not; it all depends who finds it; should it fall into honest hands of course it will be returned, if not—"
He paused, shaking his head, and presently bade the girls have their suppers and go to bed. They followed him into the dining-room, but neither Celia nor Lulu could eat, though they made a pretence of doing so.
"I will have some bills printed in the morning, giving a description of the brooch, and offering a suitable reward for its return," Mr. Tillotson said, kindly. "Cheer up, my dear, perhaps you may get it again. Anyway, do not grieve about it, for you are not to blame."
The tears rushed to Celia's eyes afresh as she listened, and she wondered what he would think of her if he knew how greatly she was to blame.
"Uncle Jasper will be so angry," she faltered.
"No, I do not think he will be. He will be sorry, I have no doubt, but he is a just man, and not one to be angry without a cause. He gave you the brooch, and I am sure you set great store by it; you could not help losing it."
Lulu lingered in her friend's bedroom until she was in bed, and tried to console her all she could, but Celia was not to be comforted.
"I'm very, very sorry," Lulu said at length, "but I don't see why you should give way like this. Father will do all he possibly can to find the brooch for you, and—anyway, it's no good crying and making yourself ill, is it?"
"No," Celia agreed, "but—but, I'm so miserable, and you don't understand."
"What don't I understand?" Lulu inquired, considerably mystified.
But Celia declined to explain, and Lulu retired to her own room, telling herself it was useless trying to get any sense from her visitor.
Long did Celia lay awake that night. She wept until she made herself feel positively ill and then, when she was quite exhausted, she could not rest for wondering what everyone would think of her when it became known that she had stolen the butterfly brooch and had lost it.
"Yes, that's the real truth," she reflected. "Oh, what a wicked, wicked girl I've been! I wish mother was here—or Joy! Oh, I would tell Joy all about it! How I regret I ever came to visit the Tillotsons! And yet they've been so kind. Oh, what shall I do? I shall be going back to the Moat House in a few days, and if I don't get the butterfly brooch before then, I don't know what will happen."
The next morning Celia took her place at the breakfast-table in a very subdued frame of mind. Lulu and Mr. Tillotson looked at her pale cheeks and heavy eyes pityingly; and the latter, with the best intentions in the world, did not tend to raise her spirits by telling her that he himself would inform Sir Jasper of her loss.
"Oh, please, not to-day! Do not tell him to-day!" Celia implored. "Perhaps the brooch may be found, and then he need never know it was lost. Oh, I am afraid he will think me so—so careless!"
As soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Tillotson began writing out a description of the lost article, with the intention of having bills printed and posted about the town, whilst Celia watched him, actually quivering with nervousness. Before he had completed his task to his satisfaction, however, there was a ring at the front door bell, and a few moments later a servant came to inform him that he was wanted. When he returned, which was in a very short while, his face wore a look of relief, and going straight up to Celia, he placed the butterfly brooch in her hand. The little girl uttered a cry of intense joy, and gazed at the sparkling jewel with eyes shining through a mist of glad tears.
"Where did you get it, father?" Lulu asked, eagerly.
"The caretaker of the hall found it late last night. I had seen him and told him of Celia's loss, so he made a careful search and discovered the brooch on the floor under a chair near the door through which we left the hall, and being an honest man, he brought it to me the first thing this morning; It was he I was called out to see just now." Mr. Tillotson did not say he had rewarded the caretaker handsomely for the return of the jewel; he had been only too delighted to do so. "You are indeed fortunate, Celia," he told her. "I confess I never thought you would get your brooch again."
"Oh, how glad I am! How glad I am!" Celia cried, ecstatically. "Oh, Mr. Tillotson, Uncle Jasper need not be told now that I lost it, need he? You won't say anything about it, will you?" she pleaded, coaxingly.
"Why should you mind?" he asked in surprise. "I suppose you are afraid he will think you were to blame, eh? Well, no, I won't tell him—on one consideration."
"And that?" Celia questioned anxiously.
"That you refrain from wearing the brooch till you are older."
"Oh, I promise you that! I never wish to wear it again—never! I—I will let uncle Jasper keep it for me."
"Not at all a bad plan. I know little girls are fond of jewellery," he said, with a smiling glance at his daughter, "but you are too young to wear such a valuable ornament as that diamond brooch. I advise you to do as you say, and when you return to the Moat House give it to Sir Jasper, or to your mother, to keep for you."
"I will give it to Uncle Jasper," Celia rejoined decidedly, reflecting how wonderfully things were being put straight for her. "I —I'm afraid I've made a lot of trouble for you," she continued, hesitatingly, "but, indeed I couldn't help it."
He answered her reassuringly, and bade her put the butterfly brooch away at once. She ran upstairs and hid it, as before, at the bottom of her box, her heart fluttering with joy; her drooping spirits quite revived.
During the day she tried to extract a promise from Lulu to the effect that she would not mention the loss of the brooch to anyone; but Lulu stubbornly declined to pass her word.
"Why should you mind, now, Celia?" she inquired, curiously. "I suppose all your people know Sir Jasper gave you the brooch, don't they?"
"No," Celia was obliged to admit, "I never told them."
"The idea! Why not?"
"I—I—I thought Joy might be jealous."
Lulu looked dubious. She did not believe this statement; in fact, she was beginning to have a very ugly suspicions of her friend, and frankly told her so.
"The very first time I see Mrs. Wallis I shall tell her about the fuss you made last night," she said, decidedly; "you upset the whole household. I thought then it couldn't be all fair and square about that brooch. Come, tell me why you are so anxious to make me promise to keep it a secret that you lost it."
Celia was at her wit's end what to say. She saw she was completely in Lulu's hands, and, at last, came to the conclusion that her only course was to take her fully into her confidence.
"If I tell you the reason why I don't want you to mention the brooch at all at the Moat House, will you faithfully promise not tell tales about me?" Celia questioned, uneasily.
Lulu demurred, but her curiosity overcame doubts as to the wisdom of making such promise, and she finally gave it. Then Celia explained the situation to her whilst listened in amazed silence.
"There, now you know all about it," said Celia, in conclusion. "I've told you what I wouldn't tell anyone else in the world, but you're my friend, and I've trusted you."
"Your friend, indeed!" Lulu cried. "Good gracious! What have you done? Don't you see that you've actually stolen the brooch? Why, you're nothing more nor less than a thief! Oh, you may get red and angry, but what I say is true! It's all very fine to talk of the brooch being yours some day. That some day isn't now. You've taken it without permission, and if Sir Jasper discovers that it's gone in your absence, he'll consider it has been stolen. I'm surprised at you, Celia, I am indeed. What a risky thing to do! If Sir Jasper finds you out, he'll never think anything of you again. And he's been so kind to you, too."
Celia had not anticipated Lulu would take the matter in this way, and she quailed beneath her indignant words.
"Really, I think you're more ungrateful than anyone I ever heard of in my life," Lulu continued, her pale blue eyes glowing with excitement. "Think of all that Sir Jasper has done for you and yours. And you were so poor before he had you at the Moat House! And he's so fond of you, too, and has made so much more of you than of Joy. Put the brooch back? I only hope you may have a chance of doing so! I knew you were selfish, Celia, but I never guessed you were so wicked as this."
"You've no right to speak to me so cruelly!" said Celia, hotly; "don't you see how unhappy I am?"
"So you ought to be!"
Thereupon began a quarrel which lasted nearly half an hour. Both girls lost their tempers, and said many hard, bitter things to each other which neither actually meant. It ended by Celia declaring she would write to her mother to send for her return to the Moat House, and by Lulu retorting that she should be glad when her visitor was gone. Accordingly Celia retired to her bedroom and commenced her letter; but before it was finished Lulu knocked at the door and demanded admittance.
"Come in, if you like," Celia replied, in an injured tone.
So Lulu entered, and crossing to her friend's side put her arms round her neck kissed her repentantly.
"Oh, Celia, forgive my wicked temper!" said with great earnestness. "I ought not to have spoken to you as I did; but I cannot imagine how you could have brought yourself to take the brooch. I know I'm very naughty myself, and do heaps of things father wouldn't approve of, but, oh, don't you see how wrong you've been?"
"Yes," Celia acknowledged, sighing, "of course I do."
"Don't you think you'd better tell your mother all about it? I would, if I were you. Oh, I'm sure your secret is going to make me very unhappy! I wish you had never told it to me."
"You made me."
"I know I did."
"It will be all right now the brooch is found, Lulu. I shall put it back."
"But supposing Sir Jasper finds it gone whilst you're still here?"
"He won't do that," Celia replied confidently; "but I'm writing to mother saying I've arranged to leave here on Saturday. I think it is time I went back to the Moat House."
Lulu agreed. She felt she would have no rest until she knew the butterfly brooch was once more in Sir Jasper Amery's keeping.
"You know, Celia, if Sir Jasper discovered you had taken the brooch he would never make you his heiress," she said, "and you know you would like to be rich; you told me you never wanted to return to A—"
"Indeed, no! That would be unbearable. We are friends again, are we not, Lulu?"
"Yes, I suppose so. But you've made me very unhappy. I can't help thinking how your mother would grieve if she knew what you've done. Oh, I think if my mother had lived I wouldn't have grieved her for anything!"
"I didn't think of mother when I took the brooch," Celia murmured.
"No; I expect you only thought of yourself, and how the diamonds would suit you. I can understand that. But didn't you remember afterwards that God had seen you? That is the thought that would have haunted me. I never thought much about Him till Joy spoke of Him so seriously to me; since then I can't help remembering He sees me, and sometimes I feel frightened and miserable, and wish I was a better girl. But I'm vain, and foolish, and fond of dress, and light literature, and I'm much afraid there's no good in me at all!"
Lulu was in a wonderfully humble frame of mind. Truth to tell, Celia's confession had frightened her, by showing her what vanity and deception might lead to. She was really shocked at her friend's conduct, and anxious beyond measure that the butterfly brooch should be replaced in Sir Jasper safe, to which end she, at the risk of appearing inhospitable, raised no protest against Celia's arrangement for leaving, but allowed her to post her letter, and was actually relieved in mind when it was gone.
"Celia has decided to go on Saturday," she informed her father, later in the day; "she thinks it is time she went home, as she has been here more than a fortnight, and she would like a little while with her brother before he returns to school. She says she has had a most enjoyable visit."
"She shall come again," Mr. Tillotson replied, smilingly, "but next time she had better leave the butterfly brooch at home."