“To speak to you, my dear.”
Audrey gave Evelyn a beseeching look. Perhaps if Audrey had refrained from looking at that moment, Evelyn, excited by her triumph, touched by the plaudits of her companions, might have done what she was expected to do, and what immediately followed need not have taken place. But Evelyn hated Audrey, and if for no other reason but to annoy her she would stand by her guns.
Miss Henderson took her hand, and entered a room adjoining the cloakroom. She closed the door, and said:
“The week is nearly up. You know what will happen to-morrow?”
“Yes,” said Evelyn, lowering her eyes.
“You will be present?”
Evelyn was silent.
“I shall see that you are. You must realize already what a pitiable figure you will be, how deep and lasting will be your disgrace. You have just tasted the sweets of success; why should you undergo that which will be said of you to-morrow, that which no English girl can ever forgive? It will not be forgotten in the school that owing to you much enjoyment has been cut short, that owing to you a cloud has rested on the entire place for several days—prizes forgone, liberty curtailed, amusements debarred; and, before and above all these things, the fearful stigma of disgrace resting on every girl at Chepstow House. But even now, Evelyn, there is time; even now, by a full confession, much can be mitigated. You know, my dear, how strong is the case against you. To-morrow morning both Miss Thompson and I proclaim before the entire school what has occurred. You are, in short, as a prisoner at the bar. The school will be the judges; they will declare whether you are innocent or guilty.”
“Let me go,” said Evelyn. “Why do you torture me? I said I did not do it, and I mean to stick to what I said. Let me go.”
“Unhappy child! I shall not be able to retain you in the school after to-morrow morning. But go now—go. God help you!”