CHAPTER XXIV.
THE WARM HEART ROUSED AT LAST.
Now the forgiving nature of Hollyhock Lennox has been often mentioned; but just now she felt very nearly as angry with Leucha as Leucha was with her. It was a strange sort of anger, an anger mingled with love, for had Leucha said the slightest word, that warm, warm heart of the Scots girl would have been hers once again.
But Leucha would not say the word, although, strange as it may seem, she also, down deep in her heart, was longing for Hollyhock, longing as she had never longed for a human being before. She had been brought up in a stiff, cold home, by a stiff, cold mother, and it was hard for her to go against her nature. The girls of Ardshiel were altogether on the side of Hollyhock, and Leucha was more lonely than ever. Her angry boast that she would write to her mother and ask to be taken from the school she had certainly not courage enough to carry out. Lady Crossways would have been furious, and would have come quickly to Ardshiel to punish her rebellious child, and as likely as not to fall under Hollyhock's charm.
Leucha had, therefore, to remain at the school, and as she had now literally no friends (for even the girl who had played the kitchen cat in the charade had completely deserted her, and her cousins, the Frasers, had given her up long ago), she was forced to remain in terrible isolation.
Poor Mrs Macintyre was most unhappy about the girl; and as for Hollyhock, she was downright wretched, but also, as she herself described it, very wicked-like and full of a big slice o' the de'il. The intense unhappiness of her mind caused her to be most freakish in her behaviour, to tell impossible ghost-stories, and as she could not sleep at nights and was really not at all well, to spend her time in planning fresh plots for the annoyance of Leucha.
Hollyhock, with all her loving nature, was also most defiant and most daring, and there were few things she would pause at to punish the English girl.
How queer is life! These two girls loved each other, and yet neither would succumb, neither would yield to the desires of the other.
Hollyhock tried to forget her constant headaches, her bad nights, her restless spirit, by employing her satellites in all sorts of mischievous tasks. No one noticed that she was not well, for her cheeks were apple-red with the glow of apparent health, and her lovely, dark, affectionate eyes had never looked more brilliant than at present.
Nevertheless, she would pay Leuchy out—Leuchy, who had now no one to protect her, as even the pious Meg Drummond was not allowed to make special friends with her. Meg, in her way, was as commonplace as Leucha, and she thought it a fine thing to know the daughter of an English nobleman; but Meg was strictly forbidden to show any preference for Leucha, who would have gladly received her, and been even now slightly comforted by her dull society. But the fiat had gone forth. Meg had made immense mischief in the school by her confession. She was detested by all the other girls for having made this mischief, and was as lonely in her way as Leucha herself. The one thing that sustained the school at this painful juncture was the hard work necessitated by the competitions for the Duke of Ardshiel's lockets.