"Letters?" said Christian, the color rising to her cheeks.
"A foreign letter—I think it must come from your father or mother—and a letter from London. Here they are. Put them under your pillow. It is too late for you to read them to-night; or if you would really rather——"
"Give them to me," said Christian. She looked at the writing. "Yes, from father," she said; "and from my dear old nurse. I won't read them to-night," she continued. "I don't think I could understand them. Jessie, the most dreadful thing has happened, and I can never, never be happy again. I don't deserve anything good, for I have been a naughty, bad girl, and I am, oh, so miserable and unhappy!"
"I tell you what it is, Christian," said Miss Jessie: "if you don't go to sleep, and in the morning tell me all about it, I will take you straight to Miss Peacock. That I will, for though I am an easy-going woman, when my blood is up I can be as despotic as the greatest virago in the land."
CHAPTER XXIV MISS PEACOCK
The next day Christian was too ill to rise. She had tossed from side to side on her restless bed during the whole of that miserable night, and when Miss Jessie, who could scarcely sleep herself from anxiety, went to visit her at an early hour in the morning, she found the poor child with flushed cheeks, eyes so heavy that she could scarcely look at her, and a temperature far above the normal. The doctor was hastily summoned. He said that Christian had got a bad chill and must stay in bed for the day. He ordered medicines and absolute quiet, and when night brought no change for the better, and on the following morning the young girl was still very ill, with a further rise of temperature and pains and aches in all her bones, he went down to see Miss Peacock.
"What is the matter with Christian Mitford?" asked that good lady. "My right hand, as I always call Jessie Jones, is very anxious about her."
"I hope she will soon be well," said the doctor, "but at present her condition is not satisfactory. I thought yesterday that she had simply got a chill, and that by care and certain medicines we could get it under. But now I am afraid she has been subjected to some kind of shock. She refuses to eat, and looks utterly miserable. Another strange thing is that she has got two letters, Miss Jessie tells me; one is from her father in India, and the other from an old servant in London; and she won't open them, or let anyone read them to her. She is beyond doubt in a very nervous, highly-strung state. Miss Jessie tells me that during the night she rambled a little and was slightly delirious. During that time she talked a great deal about one of the other girls of the school."