“Nothing, Fräulein. At least,” correcting herself as she remembered Susan, “I hope nothing schlecht.”
“You do not say right, Marione; I shame you German speak so schlecht.” Then the Fräulein laughed merrily, and standing on the tips of her little toes she kissed Marion on both cheeks.
The kisses went right to Marion’s heart, cheered and comforted her so her face had a less troubled look as she entered her room.
Susan was sitting at the table studying, and the searching glance she gave her made the color rush into Marion’s face.
“She’s gone and told of me, the ugly, mean, old thing,” thought Susan. “I knew she would sooner or later. Now I’m in for it!”
In vain she tried to fasten her attention on her book again. Over and over the consequences of the disclosure she went with beating heart. “Oh, if I had never, never, never done it!” she said to herself in the helpless, hopeless way that attends a wrong action. The short-lived celebrity the story had given her had all died away, nothing remained but this dreadful regret, and fear of what was to come.
When she saw Marion go into her bedroom, she 230 had almost a mind to follow her and confess the truth. Then she thought Marion knew it already, had perhaps told Miss Ashton, and a better thing to do would be to go to Miss Ashton and make the confession; to go at once, this very night, before she had a chance to tell the whole school: perhaps if she did, Miss Ashton would be merciful, would scold and forgive her. She looked at the clock; if she made haste there would be five minutes before they must put their lights out! Once done, what a relief it would be!
She darted from the room, not daring to trust a moment’s delay; but when she reached the corridor the lights were already turned out. All would soon be darkness, and then none were allowed to leave their rooms.
But Susan was desperate now; she knew her way down the long flights of stairs so well that she had no fear: her only thought was to reach Miss Ashton, to confess, to know her punishment, if punishment there were to be.
She flitted softly, like a ghost, through the long corridors, down the long stairs; but when she came to Miss Ashton’s door her gas was turned out, and that meant she would not open her door again that night.