A gleam of hope stole into Harebell's eyes; then it died away.
"He thinks I told him a lie. He won't help me. I'm what you call doomed, Goody."
She began to undress. She would give no explanation to Goody, for fear of inculpating Peter.
She heard a carriage come to take her uncle and aunt to dinner at the Rectory.
She wondered if her aunt would tell them all there of her wickedness; and if so, how Peter would feel when he heard it. She began to hope that perhaps his conscience would compel him to confess and to clear her. But she remembered that Nan said once that Peter never owned himself to be in the wrong.
Goody went away at last, and she was left alone in bed.
It was hours before she slept, and when she did, she dreamt that a school-mistress with flaming red curls and bony hands was pushing her down some steep steps into a dark cellar!
When the morning came, she wondered at first what awful thing had happened to her. The birds were singing. It was a lovely sunshiny morning in June, and when she remembered the trouble in which she was, she felt that some help would come to her.
"Aunt Diana won't really send me away. Peter will be sorry and tell."
Yet as she dressed, fear overcame hope. She ran softly downstairs and made her way to the stable. Chris neighed in delight when he heard her step, and rubbed her all over with his nose. Of course he was told all, and Harebell clasped him passionately round the neck.