“Susan,” said Mrs Willis, “I don’t ask you if you are guilty; I fear, poor miserable girl, that if I did you would load your conscience with a fresh lie. I don’t ask you if you are guilty because I know you are. The fact of your running without leave to see old Betty is circumstantial evidence. I judge you by that and pronounce you guilty. Now, young ladies, you who have treated me so badly, who have betrayed my trust, who have been wanting in honour, I must think, I must ask God to teach me how to deal with you. In the meantime, you cannot associate with your companions. Miss Good, will you take each of these eight girls to their bedrooms.”
As Annie was leaving the room she looked full into Mrs Willis’s face. Strange to say, at this moment of her great disgrace the cloud which had so long brooded over her was lifted. The sweet eyes never looked sweeter. The old Annie, and yet a better and a braver Annie than had ever existed before, followed her companions out of the school-room.
Chapter Thirty Eight.
Is She Still Guilty?
On the evening of that day Cecil Temple knocked at the door of Mrs Willis’s private sitting-room.
“Ah, Cecil! is that you?” said her governess. “I am always glad to see you, dear; but I happen to be particularly busy to-night. Have you anything in particular to say to me?”
“I only wanted to talk about Annie, Mrs Willis. You believe in her at last, don’t you?”
“Believe in her at last!” said the head-mistress in a tone of astonishment and deep pain. “No, Cecil, my dear; you ask too much of my faith. I do not believe in Annie.”