"There," he said, handing it back to her. "Now, good-bye. I am going to see you again in the holidays, am I not? I have enjoyed two or three hours to-day more than I have enjoyed anything in years." He took her hand and shook it warmly, and then as the train gave a warning jerk, he hurried off.
With the great fragrant bunch of violets at her waist, with money in her pocket to set her mind at rest, and with the memory of a singularly pleasant episode, Nancy saw the wintry landscape, over which a fresh snow was beginning to fall, through rosy spectacles. Somehow, not even the thought of the latest and greatest trouble loomed so very black and terrifying in her mind. She glanced down at the little book in her lap, and then opened it at the fly-leaf. He had written, "To commemorate To-day," and had signed it simply, "George." It had been a day of unusual unhappiness and unusual pleasure—not even he had understood what the mingling had been for Nancy, but the memory of the pleasure outweighed the memory of trouble; as if ashamed of herself she tried to fix her thoughts on plans for helping and advising her mother and Alma; but at length she gave it up, to review the little, delightful trivial memories of "To-day," putting off the recollection of trouble until To-morrow.
CHAPTER XIV
PARADISE COTTAGE
The twenty-second of December, a red letter date, indeed, for some fifty excited, bustling girls, dawned without bringing much of a thrill to the two Prescotts. Neither of them could enter with genuine enthusiasm into the gay holiday anticipations of the others, finding in them too depressing a contrast to their own expectations of a not very happy Christmas tide.
Nancy had shown Alma their mother's letter, and had had several long and serious talks with the poor child, who had been almost overcome with despair. Neither of them even thought of the matter of the examination, that trouble having been completely wiped out by the newer and heavier one, nor did they draw any particular satisfaction from the fact that Alma's Latin examination had been credited, and her name cleared of suspicion, while the identity of the actual culprit remained their own secret. The debt to Mildred had been paid, Alma evidently believing that the money had been sent by Providence, and asking Nancy no questions.
So far as the matter of the examination was concerned, Miss Leland had allowed the subject to drop, simply announcing her gratification at the fact that there had unquestionably been a mistake, and that Miss Drinkwater was satisfied on this point. A coldness that reached the condition of an almost habitual silence sprang up between Alma and Mildred, and the fact that Mildred asked for no explanations gave further circumstantial proof of her own guilt.
The incident of her trip to New York with the ring and her meeting with Mr. Arnold Nancy did not mention; feeling a peculiar shyness about it, and a wholesome dread of being teased. Her violets had been smuggled up to her room so that they would not lead to questions and jokes, and had faded away slowly in an inconspicuous corner, diffusing their fragrance extravagantly as they drooped and wilted over the edges of a tooth-brush mug. But two of them had been chosen to immortalize their memory, and had been carefully pressed between the pages of the little volume of stories.
After a first outburst of despair and tears, Alma had taken the bad news from home with a quiet pluck that surprised and touched Nancy. Her old-time unquestioning faith in Nancy was revived again, and she felt that if Nancy could take a cheerful view of the outlook, why, it could not be so very bad.