The girl stiffened, and stood rigidly still.
Then she said suddenly.
"It is a lie--you invent it to frighten me."
"No," answered Miss Anne, looking at her with the clear grey gaze that seemed the essence of truth, "it is quite true. My dear child, you know it is true. There is your initial, and the little coronet--quite unmistakable. Now good night again--be wise, and be good, and you will be happy too. I tell you frankly that I have your handkerchief, but I shall not use any evidence against you unless you make me."
Seldom in her life had the grey lady felt so much pain as when she left the Countess standing in the Woodrising drawing-room with that expression of fear and anger together on her pretty face. Miss Anne had been used to girls as friends always, and had started by treating this girl in the same way as others. The Countess on her part started by pretending friendliness, and cheated! That was the difficulty--kindness, in her eyes, was weakness.
Miss Lasarge went home, and on the way made up her mind to write to Sir Marmaduke if there was any further trouble, but she did not wish to bother him needlessly, because she knew he was very busy at work on a Government Commission. Also, it did seem rather absurd that several women could not keep one girl of fourteen within bounds.
Left alone, the Countess sat down with some force and cried furious tears. Then she took her hat off and threw it on the floor--flung her gloves one way and her shoes another. Then she rang the bell violently, ordered Mrs. Chipman to pick the things up--and marched upstairs in her stockings with high held chin.
She would not go out--to-night--or to-morrow--perhaps not for one or two more days, but wait. She had plenty of money; she would not be trammelled by these common people--after all what could they do to her? That was the point naturally--what they could do that mattered? She had been in England a long time. Quite long enough to understand that nobody would hurt her, whatever she did; but not long enough to appreciate kindness at its true value--which was sad, in many ways. Therefore she settled her own plan, in her own way, went to bed and slept soundly.
At the Bell House life assumed something of the old peace. Nothing happened in the Badger line--having cast his bolt, the wily master of Champles Farm was not quite certain what to do next.
Christobel smiled on Pamela, who in her turn summoned up courage to ask what she had done with that handkerchief.