Hetty Gray Part 15

"Here," said Hetty, "take away all this rubbish of clothes, and hide them." And she pulled off her disguise and flew to raise Miss Davis from the floor.

"No, lay her flat," said Mark; "and here is some water, dash it on her well. I will come back in a few moments."

He cast off his own disguise and vanished with his arms full of the articles he and Hetty had worn. When he returned he found Miss Davis beginning to breathe again, and Hetty crying over her.

"Oh! Mark, I will never play a trick again as long as I live," whispered Hetty; "we were near killing her. How could we dare to meddle with her affairs?"

"How was I to know she had a brother?" grumbled Mark under his breath.

"And what has he to do with the joke of her uncle's marrying?"

"And dying?" said Hetty. "But that's just it, you see, we don't know anything about it."

"Children," murmured Miss Davis, "what has happened to me? Give me your hands, Mark, and help me to rise."

They raised her up and laid her on the sofa.

"What was the matter?" repeated Miss Davis, seeing the tears flowing down Hetty's cheeks.

"Oh! two nasty old people came to see you and frightened you," said Mark, "and then they walked off, and Hetty and I found you on the floor."

Hetty gave Mark a reproachful look, coloured deeply, and hung her head.

Mark cast a warning glance at her over Miss Davis's shoulder. He did not want to be discovered.

"Oh! I remember," moaned Miss Davis. "My poor mother!"

Mark could not bear the unhappy tone of her voice, and turned and fled out of the room.

"Don't believe any news those people brought you, Miss Davis," said Hetty. "I am sure they were impostors."

She was longing to say, "Mark and I played a trick for fun," but did not dare until she had first spoken to Mark.

"Why do you think so? Hetty, is it possible you are crying for me? I did not think you cared so much about me, my dear."

"I am sorry, I am sorry," cried Hetty, bursting into a fresh fit of crying; "I did not know you had a little brother, Miss Davis."

"I have, Hetty; next to my mother he is the dearest care of my life. I could not have told you this but for your tears. My mother and I are very poor, Hetty, and my uncle had lately taken my boy and promised to put him forward in the world. He is rather a wilful lad, my poor darling, and is very delicate besides. Now, it seems, by my uncle's marriage and death he has lost all the prospect he had in life. And worst of all he has run away. And my mother is so ill. It will kill her."

Miss Davis bowed her pale worn face on her hands, and Hetty, young as she was, seemed to feel the whole meaning of this poor woman's life, her struggles to help others, her unselfish anxieties, her love of her mother and brother hidden away under a quiet, grave exterior. What a brave part she was playing in life, in spite of her prim looks and methodical ways. Hetty was completely carried away by the sight of her suffering, and could no longer contain her secret. She forgot Mark's warning looks, and his sovereign contempt, always freely expressed, for those who would blab; and she said in a low eager voice:

"Oh, Miss Davis, I _must_ tell the truth. It was all a trick of me and Mark. He made it up out of his head, without really knowing anything about your people. Only for fun, you know."

"What do you mean, Hetty?"

"We were the old man and woman, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford. Indeed we were, and there are no such people. And your uncle is neither married nor dead. And your brother has not run away. And your mother will be all right; and do not grieve any more, dear Miss Davis."

Hetty put her arms round the governess's neck as she spoke, and laughed and sobbed together. Miss Davis seemed quite stunned with the revelation.

"Are you sure you are not dreaming, Hetty? I want a few moments to think it all over. None of these dreadful things have really happened! Well, my dear, I must first thank G.o.d."

"Oh, Miss Davis, I wish you would beat me."

"No, dear, I won't beat you. Only don't another time think it good fun to cut a poor governess to the heart. Perhaps you thought I had not much feeling in me."

"Not very much," said Hetty. "I knew you were very good, and strong, and wise, and learned; but I did not know you could love people."

"You know it now. For the future do not think that because people are colder in their manner than you are they are therefore heartless.

Persons who lead the life that I lead, have to keep many feelings shut up within themselves, and to accustom themselves to do without sympathy."

Hetty pondered over these words. She wanted to say that she thought it would do quite as well to show more feeling, and look for a little more sympathy. She was now sure that she could always have loved Miss Davis, had she only known her from the first to be so warm-hearted and so truly affectionate. But she did not know how to express herself and remained silent.

"Miss Davis," she said presently; "must governesses always keep their hearts shut up, and try to look as if they loved n.o.body? You know I am going to be a governess some day, and that is why I ask."

Miss Davis was startled. "Do I look as if I loved n.o.body?" she asked.

"A little," said Hetty.

"Then I must be wrong. It cannot be good to look as if one loved n.o.body.

At the same time it _is_ very necessary to curb all one's feelings.

Phyllis, for instance, would not respect me if she thought me what she would call sentimental. And even Nell would perhaps smile at me as a simpleton if she saw me looking for particular affection. Even you, Hetty--you who think so much about love!--could I manage you at all if I did not know how to look stern?"

"You could," said Hetty; "you could manage me better by smiling at me; just try, Miss Davis. But oh, I forgot; I have got to be a governess too, and perhaps I had better be hardened up."

Miss Davis was silent, thinking over Hetty's words. That this ardent child found her "hardened up" was an unpleasant surprise to her; but she was not above taking a hint even from one so young and faulty as Hetty.

She would try to be warmer, brighter with this girl. And then she reflected sadly on the prospect before Hetty. With a nature like hers, how would she ever become sufficiently disciplined to be fit for the life of toil and self-repression that lay before her?

The next day Hetty looked out anxiously for an opportunity of speaking privately to Mark.

"I have something to say to you, Mark," she said; "I had to tell Miss Davis that we played the trick."

"You had to tell her!" said Mark scornfully; "well, if ever I trust a tell-tale of a girl again. You are just as sneaky as Nell after all."

"Nell is not sneaky; and you ought not to call me a tell-tale. You ran away and left me with all Miss Davis's trouble on my shoulders. I didn't want to tell; but it was better than having her suffer so dreadfully."

"Oh, very well. You can make a friend of her. Go away and sit up prim like Phyllis. You shall have no more fun with me, I can tell you."

A lump came in Hetty's throat. She knew Mark was in the wrong, and was very unkind besides; but still he had so often been good to her that she could not bear to quarrel with him.

"I am very sorry," she said; "but I don't think you need be afraid that Miss Davis will complain to anyone about us."

This made Mark more angry; for he did not like to hear the word "afraid"

applied to himself; and yet his chief uneasiness had been lest the occurrence of last evening should come to the ears of his father, who had a great dislike for practical jokes.

"Afraid? I am not afraid of anything, you little duffer. She can tell all about it to the whole house if she likes," he said, and turning on his heel went off whistling.

Hetty was right in the guess she had made regarding Miss Davis, who did not say a word to anyone about the trick that had been played on her.

She was too thankful to know that she had suffered from a false alarm, that her beloved brother was safe under the protection of the uncle who had promised to befriend him, and that her dear mother was spared the terrible anxiety that had seemed to have overtaken her; she was much too glad thinking of all this to feel disposed to be angry with anyone.

Besides, this accident had brought to light a side of Hetty's character which she had hardly got a glimpse of before. The child had evinced a warmth of feeling towards herself which neither of her other two pupils had ever shown her, and this in forgetfulness of the somewhat hard demeanour with which she had been hitherto treated. The little girl was, it appeared, capable of knowing that certain things she did not like were yet for her good, and of respecting the persons who were to her rather a stern providence. Her extreme sorrow for giving pain was also to be noted, and the fact that she had realized the work that was before her in life. All these things sank deeply into Miss Davis's mind, and made her feel far more interested in Hetty than she had ever felt before.