Betty went through her lessons with her accustomed force and animation, and there was no difference to be observed between her manner of to-day and that of yesterday. After school she very simply told her sisters that she had withdrawn from the Specialities, and then begged of them not to pursue the subject. “I am not going to explain,” she said, “so you needn’t ask me. I shall have more time to devote to you in the future, and that’ll be a good thing.” She then left them and went for a long walk by herself.
Now, it is one of those dreadful things which most surely happen to weak human nature that when an evil and jealous and unkind thought gets into the heart, that same thought, though quite unimportant at first, gradually increases in dimensions until it overshadows all other thoughts and gains complete and overwhelming mastery of the mind. Had any one said to Fanny Crawford a fortnight or three weeks before the Vivians’ arrival at the school that she would have felt towards Betty as she now did, Fanny would have been the first to recoil at the monstrous fungus of hatred which existed in her mind. Had Betty been a very plain, unattractive, uninteresting girl, Fanny would have patronized her, kept her in her place, but at the same time been kind to her. But Fanny’s rage towards Betty now was almost breaking its bounds. Was not Fanny’s own father educating the Vivians? Was it not he who had persuaded Mrs. Haddo to admit them to the school? She herself was the only daughter of a rich and distinguished man. The Vivians were nobodies. Why should they be fussed about, and talked of, and even loved—yes, loved—while she, Fanny, was losing her friends? The thought was unbearable! Fanny had managed by judicious precaution to get Betty to reveal part of her secret, and Betty was no longer a member of the Specialities. Betty’s name was on the blackboard too, and by no means honorably mentioned. But more things could be done.
For Fanny felt that the school was turning against her—the upper school, whose praise she so prized. The Specialities asked her boldly why she did not love Betty Vivian. There would be no peace for Fanny until Mrs. Haddo knew everything, and dismissed the Vivians to another school. This she would, of course, do at once if she knew the full extent of Betty’s sin. Fanny felt that she must proceed very warily. Betty had hidden the packet, and boldly declared that she would not give it up to any one—that she would rather leave the Specialities than tell her story to Mrs. Haddo and put the little sealed packet into her keeping. Fanny’s present aim, therefore, was to find the packet. She wondered how she could accomplish this, and looked round her for a ready tool. Presently she made up her mind that the one girl who might help her was Sibyl Ray. Sibyl was by no means strong-minded. Sibyl was unpopular—she pined for notice. Sibyl adored Betty; but suppose—oh, suppose!—Fanny could offer her, as a price for the dirty work she wanted her to undertake, membership in the Speciality Club? Martha West would be on Sibyl’s side, for Martha was always friendly to the plain, uninteresting, somewhat lonely girl. Fanny felt at once that the one tool who could further her aims was Sibyl Ray. There was no time to lose.
Sibyl had been frightfully perturbed at seeing Betty’s name on the blackboard, and she was as eager to talk to Fanny as Fanny was pleased to listen to her.
“Oh Fan!” she said, running up to her on the afternoon of that same day, “may I go for a very little walk with you? I do want to ask you about poor darling Betty!”
“Poor darling Betty indeed!” said Fanny.
“Oh, but don’t you pity her? What can have happened to cause her to be no longer a member of the Specialities?”
“Now, Sibyl, you must be a little goose! Do you suppose for a moment it is within my power to enlighten you?”
“I suppose it isn’t; but I am very unhappy about her, and so are we all. We are all fond of Betty. We think her wonderful.”
Fanny was silent.