The answer to this letter did not come for some days. But I have forgotten one part of the sad business. Not only was no birthday present or Christmas present sent to Yvonne by her godmother, but for the first time no cheque was received by Captain Whyte’s bankers from Mrs Fetherston. Her rancour had gone the length of stopping his allowance! No wonder the poor Yew Trees people were anxious. And this was my doing.
Chapter Eleven.
Nothing Venture, Nothing Win.
The short winters day was already closing in when the carriage stopped at our own door. I was crouched up in one corner, perfectly miserable, the fur rug was in a heap at my feet—when I glanced at it, and thought of how papa had tucked it round me that very afternoon, I felt as if I could not bear it. As I got out and entered the hall, where the light was dim, I saw some one standing at the drawing-room door. It was mamma waiting for me; she had heard the carriage stopping.
“Connie, is that you?” she said. “Is papa there?”
“No, mamma,” I managed to get out. “I’m alone.” Then she drew me into the drawing-room—it looked so warm and bright, the red firelight dancing on the old furniture—and I was so shivering and cold! Somehow the look of it all—the look, above all, in mamma’s eyes—was too much for me.
“Mamma, mamma,” I sobbed, and once I had begun my tears came like a thunderstorm, “do you know? Do you know about how naughty I’ve been?”
She had not really known of course; till I owned to it no one could have really known, except Anna. But mamma had guessed it was true—in some ways she knew me and my faults and follies even better than papa did, gentle as she was. She had been afraid it was true when he told her that afternoon what I had been accused of—and he had been rather vexed with her!