“I know that,” replied Fanny. “But I cannot stay any longer in disgrace in one room. I have had enough of it. I wish to tell you, Mrs. Haddo, that Haddo Court is no longer the place for me. I suppose I ought to repent of what I have done; and, of course, I never for a moment thought that Betty would be so absurd and silly to get an illness which would nearly kill her. As a matter of fact, I do not repent. The wicked person was Betty Vivian. She first stole the packet, and then told a lie about it. I happened to see her steal it, for I was saying at Craigie Muir at the time. When Miss Symes told me that the Vivians were coming to the school I disliked the idea, and said so; but I wouldn’t complain, and my dislike received no attention whatsoever. Betty has great powers of fascination, and she won hearts here at once. She was asked to join the Specialities—an unheard-of-thing for a new girl at the school. I begged and implored of her not to join, referring her to Rule No. I., which prohibits any girl who is in possession of such a secret as Betty had to become a member. She would not listen to me; she would join. Then she became miserable, and confessed what she had done, but would not carry her confession to its logical conclusion—namely, confession to you and restoration of the lost packet.”
“I wish to interrupt you for a minute here, Fanny,” said Mrs. Haddo. “Since your father left he has sent me several letters of the late Miss Vivian’s to read. In one of them she certainly did allude to a packet which was to be kept safely until Betty was old enough to appreciate it; but in another, which I do not think your father ever read, Miss Vivian said that she had changed her mind, and had put the packet altogether into Betty’s charge. I do not wish to condone Betty’s sins; but her only sin in this affair was the lie she told, which was evidently uttered in a moment of swift temptation. She had a right to the packet, according to this letter of Miss Frances Vivian’s.”
Fanny stood very still. “I didn’t know that,” she replied.
“I dare say you didn’t; but had you treated Betty differently, and been kind to her from the first, she would probably have explained things to you.”
“I never liked her, and I never shall,” said Fanny with a toss of her head. “She may suit you, Mrs. Haddo, but she doesn’t suit me. And I wish to say that I want you to send me, at once, to stay with my aunt Amelia at Brighton until I can hear from my father with regard to my future arrangements. If you don’t send me, I have money in my pocket, and will go in spite of you. I don’t like your school any longer. I did love it, but now I hate it; and it is all—all because of Betty Vivian.”
“Oh, Fanny, what a pity!” said Mrs. Haddo. Tears filled her eyes. But Fanny would not look up.
“May I go?” said Fanny.
“Yes, my dear. Anderson shall take you, and I will write a note to your aunt. Fanny, is there no chance of your turning to our Divine Father to ask Him to forgive you for your sins of cruelty to one unhappy but very splendid girl?”
“Oh, don’t talk to me of her splendor!” said Fanny. “I am sick of it.”
“Very well, I will say no more.”