CHAPTER XVII.
POOR MEG.
Through the evening Meg heard the intolerable dance music going on and on. Little by little there came to her in her isolation the realization of the thankless load she had taken upon herself—a burden of guilt of the meanest kind. What would Mr. Standish think of her now? He had for some time past fallen into the background of her thoughts; but now there returned to her the memory of this friend of her childhood. With anguish she felt that when they met again, instead of appearing before him grown into a lady, full of the grace of blossomed womanly ways, and with the dignity which comes of loving protection to the weak, what would she seem to him? For years, thought Meg, for all her life, she must seem a miserable wretch and a thief.
She walked up and down the little room contemplating this picture. She could not face the prospect; and still, as there rose before her that vision of a cringing, shrinking child, an atom of terror outlined there against the darkness, appealing to her, Meg once more took up the load of guilt. Up and down she wandered, unable to concentrate her thoughts, sometimes contemplating how two hours ago she was a different being—all the change that had happened in two little hours!—then feeling that one comfort remained to her—the thought of Elsie's gratitude. In an alien world this little blossom of love would sweeten her lot. She turned from the realization of her own ruin to linger on this consolation that round Elsie's heart would hang the rich perfume of thankfulness for the sacrifice she had made. And then still, as she walked up and down, she thought how downstairs as they danced they all knew it. She was worse to them than a beggar in the streets. "If I were to go downstairs they would all shrink from me," she muttered bitterly. There was a stain upon her never to be wiped off. In two years would it be forgotten? she asked herself drearily. No, it would not. In three years? No, it never will, answered the thought; and then always, like the burden of her plaint, that Mr. Standish would hear of it.
The intolerable dance music stopped at last. She heard the rustle of dresses, the rush of feet. The party was over. The girls were going to bed. The gas was turned off and the house was plunged into darkness.
Meg lay down upon her bed and from sheer fatigue of sorrow fell asleep. She woke with the dawn, and for a moment she forgot what had happened. Then the heavy misery shaped itself and pressed upon her soul again. The calm morning held a promise of hope. What would the day bring her? Would not Elsie tell?
Just before the bell for prayers rang she heard a step outside. The handle of the door turned and Miss Reeves entered.
There was a moment of silence as the head mistress and the pupil faced each other.
"Meg, how did that diamond come into your possession?" Miss Reeves asked, not unkindly.