Mother did not come back to lunch. She sent round a note to say she was staying with Lily; and by and by when she returned, her heart was so full of sorrow for the suffering child that she forgot to ask about the morning's pleasure. If Dolly was silent, mother thought it was from sympathy with herself.
The next day school began. All thoughts of skating were banished; there was a prize to be fought for, and Dolly had set her heart on winning it.
Somehow the spirit that had hitherto animated her now failed. The world seemed all out of tune. Again and again she was on the point of confessing her wrong-doing, as mother bent above her for a good-night kiss. But weeks passed, and still the words remained unspoken. Ralph never mentioned the ice; yet Dolly fancied he had loved her less since that morning.
"You musn't be too anxious about the prize, Dolly, darling," said her mother, noticing the tired face, "or I am afraid you will fall ill from worry. I am quite glad to think the breaking-up party is to-morrow. Mind, dear, I shall not be disappointed if you fail. I can trust my child, and I know she has done her best."
Dolly flushed crimson. Her mother trusted her, and imagined she knew every thought of her childish heart. How little mother knew the misery Dolly was enduring!
All was excitement at the school. The prize-giving only took place once a year, and many and great were the hopes and fears on that eventful day. Some girls were of opinion that Dolly would carry off the coveted prize, others that she had lost ground of late, and failed utterly. Dolly, quite aware of her shortcomings, was yet vaguely longing for success. Her rival in the class was older and cleverer than herself, but without the perseverance that characterized Dolly, therefore Dolly hoped on until the prize-giving began.
Everything passed as in a dream, until Dolly's class was mentioned, when Miss Danvers, the head mistress, in a short speech declared that the prize had been won, after a severe struggle, by Lucy Trevor. At the same time she was giving a special prize, because of the good conduct and perfect uprightness and truth of the unsuccessful competitor. This prize she awarded to Dolly Ferrars. She held up a beautiful Bible, bound in white vellum.
"This is the prize of honor," she said.
Dolly's heart stood still. She had forgotten her disappointment about the class prize in an overwhelming sense of shame.
"Go up, Dolly," said mother proudly.