The Manor School

by L. T. Meade

Miss Peacock paused. She looked at all the girls. In particular her eyes fastened themselves upon the face of Susan Marsh. Susan Marsh, Miss Peacock had to admit, was a little different from the other girls. She had been sent to the school under special conditions; for her mother was dead, and her father had pleaded that as a girl whom he knew very well had been educated at Penwerne Manor, and had in all ways fulfilled Miss Peacock's ideals, so his child—his motherless child—might have a chance. And Miss Peacock had accepted Susan, and hoped that Susan was at least following in the lead of girls higher in morals than herself.

To-day Susan's face looked dark. She did not meet the fixed gaze of her teacher; on the contrary, she shuffled her feet and her eyes sought the ground.

"The sin of cruelty," continued Miss Peacock, "I have at least not expected to find in your midst."

And now she looked past Susan and fixed her steadfast gaze on Star. Whatever Star's faults, there was nothing underhand about her. Her eyes, soft and bright—bright as a robin's—were raised full to her teacher. A flush of color did rise to her cheeks when Miss Peacock so steadfastly regarded her, but there was nothing underhand in those clear eyes, nor in that bright, vivacious face.

"I regret to have to tell you all," continued Miss Peacock, looking now at none of the girls in especial, "that such a case has taken place in this school. A girl—one of the forty who are numbered as my pupils—has been cruel to a young girl who belongs to us all. The girl so cruelly treated is Christian Mitford. She has not been here very long, and she has come to me as a very precious legacy. I knew Christian Mitford's grandmother, and she was quite the most upright woman I ever met. I owe a great deal to her influence. I also know Christian's father. There are few men who bear a more upright or braver character. He has been entrusted with a post which requires all the best energies of a man to carry out its duties. He has gone in the face of danger and banishment to fulfill those duties. He has gone to serve his country in a moment of great danger. I cannot exactly explain what his duties are, but any of you girls whose fathers are in the diplomatic service will understand me. Christian's father has left her behind, for she could not encounter the dangers of the climate of the country where he is now living. Christian's mother has gone with her husband. Her child has therefore come to me more or less as an orphan. I said to her father when he wrote to beg of me to take Christian, that she would be happy in my big family, that she would find her métier, that she would thrive in body and spirit, that she would become an accomplished and Christian woman. Now, Christian is a particularly bright child, and particularly intelligent, and there is no reason whatsoever why she should not be happy here. That she is not happy there is not the slightest doubt. That she is so unhappy as to cause her to be ill is also, I regret to say, a fact. Dr. Webb saw her this morning, and he says that she has encountered a shock; he does not know of what sort, but he and I both feel that we must come to you girls for the explanation. He fears that she will not be better until the load on her mind is relieved. She is too ill to be worried; she is too ill even to be questioned. To treat her wisely and well we must know what to do. Now, girls, I ask your advice. How am I to treat Christian Mitford? We don't want her to become seriously ill, and she is in a fair way to be so unless her mind is completely relieved. What do you say girls? Have you anything to suggest?"

There was a dead silence amongst all the girls. The teachers looked immensely interested. Miss Forest opened her lips as though to speak. Mr. Fredericks, who had come in just before prayers, glanced at Miss Forest. Presently Miss Forest stepped forward.

"I am absolutely in the dark," she said, "with regard to Christian Mitford's trouble, but I do know that two nights ago Mr. Frederick and I were entertaining two of the Sixth Form Girls, Louisa Twining and Phillipa Dawson, at supper, when a hurried message came for them to visit Star Lestrange in her room. We were surprised at the time. This, of course, may have nothing to do with Christian Mitford, but I think it worth mentioning."

"And so do I think it worth mentioning," said Mr. Frederick. "I observed on Wednesday, when I gave Christian her last music lesson, that she was disturbed, not herself. The brilliancy which always characterized her playing had deserted her."

"She was unquestionably not herself on Wednesday," said Miss Forest. "She seemed much troubled all day. Did you not notice, Miss Peacock, when you were sent for to hear, her recite her portion from Milton's works, how badly she did it?"