“I must appeal to her honor; it is impossible that any girl could be quite destitute of that quality,” said Miss Henderson.
“I am sure you are doing right, sister,” said Miss Lucy. “Once you harden a girl you do for her. Whatever Evelyn Wynford’s faults may be, she will hold a high position one day. It would be terrible—more than terrible—if she grew up a wicked woman. How awful to have power and not to use it aright! My dear Maria, whatever you are, be merciful.”
“I must pray to God to guide me aright,” answered Miss Maria. “This is a case for a right judgment in all things. Poor child! I pity her from my heart; but how to bring her to the necessary confession is the question.”
Miss Henderson went to bed, but not to sleep. Early in the morning she arose, having made up her mind what to do.
Accordingly, when Audrey and Evelyn arrived in the pretty little governess-cart—Audrey with a high color in her cheeks, looking as sweet and fresh and good and nice as English girl could look, and Evelyn tripping after her with a certain defiance on her white face and a look of hostility in her brown eyes—they were both greeted by Miss Henderson herself.
“Ah, Audrey dear,” she said in a cheerful and friendly tone, “how are you this morning?—How do you do, Evelyn?—No, Audrey, you are not late; you are quite in nice time. Will you go to the schoolroom, my dear? I will join you presently for prayers.—Evelyn, can I have a word with you?”
“Why so?” asked Evelyn, backing a little.
“Because I have something I want to say to you.”
Audrey also stood still. She cast a hostile glance at Miss Henderson, saying to herself:
“After all, my head-mistress is horribly unfair; she is doubtless going to tell Evelyn that she suspects her.”