“She must be brought to confess,” continued Audrey, “and you must find her and talk to her. You must show her how hopeless and helpless she is. Show her that if she tells, the disgrace will not be quite so awful. Oh, do please get her to tell!”
“I can but try,” said Sylvia; “only, somehow,” she added, “I have not yet quite fathomed Evelyn.”
“But I thought she was fond of you?”
“You see what she said. She did confide something to me, only I must not tell you any more; and she is angry with me because she thinks I have not respected her confidence. Oh, what is to be done? Yes, I will go and have a talk with her. Go in, please, Audrey; you look dead tired.”
“Oh! as if anything mattered,” said Audrey. “I could almost wish that I were dead; the disgrace is past enduring.”
CHAPTER XXVII.—THE STRANGE VISITOR IN THE BACK BEDROOM.
In vain Sylvia pleaded and argued. She brought all her persuasions to bear; she brought all her natural sweetness to the fore. She tried love, with which she was so largely endowed; she tried tact, which had been given to her in full measure; she tried the gentle touch of scorn and sarcasm; finally she tried anger, but for all she said and did she might as well have held her peace. Evelyn put on that stubbornness with which she could encase herself as in armor; nowhere could Sylvia find a crack or a crevice through which her words might pierce the obdurate and naughty little heart. What was to be done? At last she gave up in despair. Audrey met her outside Evelyn’s room. Sylvia shook her head.
“Don’t question me,” she said. “I am very unhappy. I pity you from my heart. I can say nothing; I am bound in honor to say nothing. Poor Evelyn will reap her own punishment.”
“If,” said Audrey, “you have failed I give up all hope.”
After lunch Evelyn and Audrey went back to school. There were a good many classes to be held that afternoon—one for deportment, another for dancing, another for recitation. Evelyn could recite extremely well when she chose. She looked almost pretty when she recited some of the spirited ballads of her native land for the benefit of the school. Her eyes glowed, darkened, and deepened; the pallor of her face was transformed and beautified by a faint blush. There was a heart somewhere within her; as Audrey watched her she was obliged to acknowledge that fact.