Lena Graham Read online

  *CHAPTER IX.*

  *THE SPOILT FEATHER.*

  Lucy had not gone very far when she saw Bessie coming towards her, notwalking along briskly and brightly as usual, but with a lagging step anddrooping head, so unlike her usual self that even Lucy, full as she wasof her own grievance, was struck by it.

  "O Bessie, what is the matter? what have you been doing?"

  "Nothing, except I am miserable," was the gloomy answer.

  Awed and subdued, the child walked beside her in silence, until theycame to a favourite resting-place of theirs--an old tree that had beenblown down in some winter storm and still lay beside the hedge. Thebranches had been chopped off, and grass and wild flowers had grown uparound it, making it both a comfortable and picturesque seat. On thisBessie seated herself with Lucy beside her.

  "Do tell me what is the matter; why are you so unhappy?" Placing herlittle hand on her knee, she looked up affectionately into hercompanion's face.

  "They are going to send me away from here, all among strangers in ahorrid town, and I shall be wretched."

  "Send you away, your Papa and Mama! Why, what have you done?" the childasked in surprise.

  "Nothing." And as she spoke the word she began to laugh in anhysterical, nervous sort of way. Then seeing the child's bewilderedlook she said, "Yes, Lucy, that's really why, because Mama says I am notgetting on with Miss Gifford, that I do nothing, so they are going tosend me to school."

  "How unkind of them!"

  "No, Mama could not be unkind, nor Papa either; they say it's for mygood."

  "Like what they say when they give you nasty medicine." This was notsaid saucily, but very gravely, for Lucy was not in a merry mood; thenews she had just heard was too serious for a joke.

  "Only think," said Bessie, looking round her with loving, admiring eyes,"to live among streets and houses, and to leave all these beautifulfields and trees--oh, it is cruel! I can never be happy away fromhere." Sure of a sympathising listener in her little companion, shepoured forth all her sorrows for the present and fears for the future.

  The prospect of dear kind Bessie going away saddened little Lucy, and sofilled her thoughts that it drove away the remembrance of her owndisappointment, and she quite forgot to tell her of all that hadhappened, and that she had come out to meet her with the full intentionof telling. When they parted at the garden gate, Bessie looked happier,though I fear not one whit more resigned to the prospect in store forher.

  Lucy watched her away, and then turned and ran back to the house.Though she was very very sorry about it, still it did not prevent herfrom being eager to tell her sisters the news, sad though it was. Itgave her a feeling of importance to know something the elder ones didnot, so she felt quite disappointed at finding that none of the othershad come in. She must tell her tale to some one, so running up to thenursery she found Hester, who listened to her news and was as interestedand sympathising as her small charge desired.

  Lucy was already dressed and waiting for tea, when Lena came in, saying,"O Lucy, there you are! Mama wants you; she is in the drawing-room;come along quickly."

  Together they entered the drawing-room, where they found Colonel andMrs. Graham and Milly. The latter looked very distressed, and bothparents very grave.

  "What is it, Mama?" they both exclaimed.

  "Have you been in your mother's bedroom to-day, Lena?" asked ColonelGraham.

  "No, Papa," was the immediate answer, and she looked frankly into herfather's face as she spoke. Not a suspicion of what was coming dawnedupon her, she had so completely made up her mind that both her motherand sister knew of her wrong-doing and had forgiven her. At first shehad often wondered that her mother had said no word to her on thesubject. Then as the days wore on, she was only too glad to forget allabout it, and she had tried to be very good and obedient, to show hergratitude. It was the old story with Lena, trusting to her own effortsto repair the wrong, forgetting that there is nothing that we can dothat will cleanse us from sin; there is only One who can do that, and Hewas now going to give her the opportunity to confess her fault, and toshow true repentance.

  As Colonel Graham asked Lena this question, Lucy coloured and cast downher eyes. She suddenly remembered what she had done, and how she hadleft her mother's room.

  "Lucy, have you been in?" There was little doubt what would be theanswer. Conscious guilt was stamped on every feature of the child'sface.

  "Yes, Papa," she said timidly. Then bursting into tears, she rushed toher mother's arms for refuge and comfort.

  "Tell us all about it, my child; what did you go for?"

  "To see if there was not a present for me," she sobbed.

  "But Milly told you she had searched the box."

  "Bessie said perhaps it had got among the paper, and you had not seenit."

  "Well, when you found it was not there, what did you do to the hat?"

  "Kicked it," she murmured very low.

  "Nothing else?"

  "No, I did not even look at it."

  "You must have done something more, Lucy," said her father. "How elsecould it be in this state?" And he held out Milly's unfortunate hat.

  Lucy lifted her head from her mother's shoulder and looked. "O Papa,what a pity! how did it get like that?"

  The child spoke with such an accent of truth, that the parents looked atone another in surprise. That Lucy had not done it intentionally therecould be no doubt.

  "We thought you had done it, Lucy. We found it in this state under thewashing-stand."

  "I am so sorry. I never meant to spoil the hat; I only kicked itbecause I was so angry;" for Lucy immediately jumped to the conclusionthat she had done the mischief, though unintentionally. Springingforward she flung her arms round Milly, saying, "Please, please forgiveme, Milly; I did not mean to spoil your hat really."

  "No, I know you did not, Lucy. I don't mind one bit now; I did atfirst, because it was such a pretty one. I don't mind now; and Lena andI will have the same like always--won't we, Mama?" said Milly sweetly asshe kissed her little sister.

  What were Lena's feelings during this time? Very conflicting ones. SoMama and Milly had not known of it all along, and now she must confessthat she had not only done the mischief, but had concealed it all thistime. Would they believe her when she told them the whole story? Shehad not really meant to deceive them, she repeated over and over againto herself. The others were too much taken up with Lucy to notice her,or else her varying looks must have betrayed the struggle that was goingon within. As Milly ceased speaking, Lena started forward. "O Milly,"she began, when her father's voice arrested her.

  "I am glad, my child, you told me the truth at once, for if you hadtried to deceive me and denied your fault, I should have been veryangry. You see what sins jealousy and passion lead you into."

  "I could not tell before Papa," thought Lena as she drew back; "if hewould be angry with little Lucy, how much more so would he be with mewho am older?" Then as Lucy sobbed out, "I really did not mean to spoilthe feather," and her mother answered, "No, dear, that must have been anaccident," the temptation that rose to Lena's mind was too strong to beresisted by her feeble strength, and on that strength alone had she beenand still was relying. So she held her peace and let Lucy bear theblame.

  "You need not stay, dears," said Mrs. Graham to the two elder girls."Go to your tea; I want to have Lucy with me alone for a little while."

  How the feather had been spoiled still remained a mystery. Lucy fullyand firmly believed that she had been the cause, by throwing it underthe washing-stand, though unless the floor had been wet it would nothave been so utterly ruined. It was an unsatisfactory solution of thedifficulty, but as no other could be found, they had to be satisfiedwith it. How thankful Lena was when tea was over, and Miss Marshallgave them leave to go out into the garden for half an hour.

  "May I go up and see Lucy?" asked Milly.

  Gaining permission, she ran after Lena
to tell her where she was going,and to ask if she would come with her.

  "There is no good both going, and I want to finish my book." But notmuch of the book was read that evening, when, out of sight of every one,Lena sat down and tried to arrange her thoughts. What had she done?Though no one was by to see her, her cheeks flushed with shame at herconduct. What cowardice and meanness had she not been guilty of! Oh,if she had only spoken out at the beginning, all this misery andwickedness would have been saved. "It was not too late yet," consciencewhispered. Then the thought of what her father would say when he heardthat she had deceived them. If it was only Mama, I should not mind, soran her thoughts; but I dare not tell Papa, he would be so angry. Oh,if only Aunt Mary were here I could tell her everything, forgetting, orrather pushing away the remembrance, of One nearer and dearer than anyearthly friend, who never turns a cold or deaf ear to any of Hischildren, and who ever has the gentlest and most loving answer for Hisrepentant little ones. How, over and over again, we dread the anger ofsome earthly friend, forgetting that some day we must face the justanger of an offended God if we continue in our hardness and sin. AsLena sat thus thinking, we may be very sure that excuses, and what shecalled good reasons for keeping silence, were not long in making theirappearance. Lucy had been forgiven, and nothing more would be said onthe subject. Why should she open out such a painful thing again? Shehad not told a falsehood; if Papa had asked her, she would haveacknowledged doing it. He had only asked her if she had been in hermother's room that afternoon, and she had spoken the truth when she said"No." Then what would Aunt Mary feel if she heard that she, her pet anddarling, had got into trouble and disgrace? No, this must never be, andso on and on went the struggle between right and wrong, ending, alas! inLena's leaving it to be settled some other time. "I could not do itto-night, I will the first opportunity;" and somehow, when anopportunity offered itself, it was not a right one--Lena would wait fora better. So day followed day, and still the secret was locked up inLena's bosom, and it seemed probable that it never would be told.Nothing was ever said about the feather, and to all appearance no oneremembered anything about it. Still Lena was not happy. How could shebe, with such a weight at her heart? Aunt Mary had striven to train herniece not for this life alone; and the good seed that had been sown inlove and faith was not dead, and the better thoughts would makethemselves heard. Lena was not callous or hardened; no, she was verymiserable, poor child, as all of us must be who carry about with us anunconfessed and unforgiven sin. As day after day she kneeled, as shehad ever done in prayer, and listened to, or read God's Word, her heartgrew heavier, and sometimes the longing to tell all was so strong thatshe would start up to go, then her courage would fail, and she wasafraid of what they would say; and the remembrance of her father'swords, both to herself and Lucy, would come back, and she would shrinkfrom the task, thinking, "I will be very good and obedient, and make upfor not telling by good conduct." At times she would forget all aboutit, and be the bright, lively Lena we first knew; but some word or deedwould be sure to recall her secret, and she would have the same struggleover again.

  Her mother was sure that something was amiss, and would watch hertroubled, anxious face with loving eyes, fearing that her child waseither ill or unhappy. Could it be, she would wonder, that she wasfretting at the loss of Aunt Mary? and at this thought she would be, ifthat were possible, when she was always kind and loving to her children,more so than usual to Lena. Strange to say, that when this was thecase, it made Lena only stronger in her determination not to tell, forshe would think, "She would not be so kind to me if she knew how naughtyI had been." So day after day passed and her secret was still untold.

  "Where is Lena?" asked Mrs. Graham, coming into the garden, where Millyand Lucy were busy working at their own especial little garden.

  "On the lawn, Mama. She wanted to finish a book Gertrude lent her.Shall I call her?"

  "No, dear, I will go to her," and she moved away.

  Throwing down the rake with which she had been working, Milly followed."Mama," she began, when she was out of ear-shot of Lucy; "I don't thinkLena is very happy here."

  "I am afraid, dear, that she is not well," answered her mother.

  "She is so much quieter, and she is not half so fond of running aboutand romping as she used to be."

  "I am beginning to think this place does not suit her. It's a changefrom the sea-air she has been accustomed to. I have a letter for herfrom Aunt Mary; that is what I want her for."

  "Oh, that will please her. There she is. Lena!" she called out as theycame in sight of her lying flat on the grass, intent on a book she wasreading.

  Lena looked up as they joined her, saying, "It is such a nice book!Milly, you ought to read it."

  "I have brought you something else to read, dear," said her mother,holding out a letter which Lena sprang up to receive; for what child isnot delighted at receiving a letter, especially if directed to itself!

  As Lena was opening the envelope, Mrs. Graham said, "I heard from Mrs.Clifford to-day. That will interest you, Milly. I wrote and asked herto come and stay here."

  At these words Lena turned round hastily, and listened anxiously to hearthe answer from Mrs. Clifford. As her mother had paused and was lookingfor the letter in her pocket, Lena asked impatiently, "Is she coming?"

  "Yes, dear, in a fortnight."

  Lena's cheek flushed crimson, for the thought flashed through her mind,"She will inquire about the hat."

  At sight of her crimsoned cheeks Mrs. Graham and Milly at once came tothe same conclusion--"Lena has not forgotten her disappointment at notreceiving a present;" but neither took any notice of her confusion inwords.

  "Shall I read you your letter, dear?" asked Mrs. Graham.

  "Please, Mama," she answered, placing the letter in her hand. Thenwalking slowly up and down the lawn, Mrs. Graham read the letter aloudto the two girls, who were walking one on each side of her.

  After telling her niece about the many new and interesting places shehad been visiting, she went on to say what pleasure it had given her tohear from Mrs. Graham, how good and obedient Lena had been, ending with,"Nothing can give me so much happiness as hearing this, dear Lena, and Itrust that I may continue to have equally good accounts until we meetagain in the winter." Lena listened to these words in silence as hermother ended the letter.

  Bessie Freeling rushed out of the house to join them, exclaiming as shedid so, "O Mrs. Graham, I came with Mama; she is in the drawing-room;she wants to see you."

  This was a happy interruption for Lena. She dreaded hearing some wordsof praise from her mother, for she knew how little she deserved them.Handing her the letter with a smile, Mrs. Graham answered Bessie, andhurried back to the house to see Mrs. Freeling, leaving the three girlstogether.

  Bessie was in a state of excitement, and the moment Mrs. Grahamdisappeared into the house she burst out with, "What do you think shehas come for? To ask if your mother will let one of you go to theseaside with Gertrude and Miss Gifford, instead of me. I want to stayhere all summer. I don't want to lose a day when I have such amiserable winter before me."

  "I thought your Papa and Mama were going away too," said Milly.

  "Yes, to take the boys to see Uncle Henry; but I want to come and stayhere while you go with Gerty."

  Milly's face fell: she did not want to leave home. "But we can't--wehave no holidays," she said, brightening up at this thought.

  Here was an escape for Lena from meeting Mrs. Clifford. Was everanything more fortunate? she thought, for she dreaded any remarks orinquiries from that lady.

  "I should like to go to the sea," said Lena; "I hope Mama will let me."

  "Want to go away, Lena?" said Milly reproachfully. "And when Mrs.Clifford is coming; I do so want her to know you, as well as me."

  "I do hope Mrs. Graham will say 'yes.' Now, Milly, don't you go tryingto persuade Lena not to--I shan't let you speak to her until it is allsettled;" and she laughingly dragged her away, ca
lling loudly to Lucy tocome and help her, which the moment Lucy heard her voice, she hastenedto do. And a merry struggle went on between them, in which Lena,rejoiced at the prospect of escaping Mrs. Clifford's promised visit,joined in, and it was in the midst of all the fun and noise that Mrs.Graham and Mrs. Freeling joined them.

  "You will consent, won't you, Mrs. Graham?" said Bessie, leaving Millyand looking up coaxingly at her.

  "Consent to have you here? Yes, with pleasure; and I think, as yourmother has kindly asked one of my children to go with Gertrude, that itwould do Lena good. She has not been very well lately, and the sea-airmay strengthen her."

  "But our lessons, Mama?" said Milly.

  "She will do them all the better when she is strong and well; won't you,Lena dear?"

  "I am not ill, Mama, but I should like to go to the sea."

  "And I do so want to stay here," said Bessie. "O Lucy, won't we behappy? I shall have no lessons, and we will live out of doors."Seizing the child as she spoke, she danced her round.

  "When are we to go?" asked Lena.

  "In a few days," said Mrs. Freeling. "I have written about the rooms,and we shall hear to-morrow."

  "And how long shall we be away?" asked Lena nervously.

  "About three weeks or a month, I hope. Will that be too long?" askedMrs. Freeling of her mother.

  "I am afraid you will miss Mrs. Clifford's visit, dear; perhaps she willstay longer than she says when once she is here."

  Lena made no answer; and Mrs. Freeling then spoke on some other subject,and the girls wandered off together to another part of the garden.

  The few days before they were to start passed away quietly. Lena wasvery glad to escape Mrs. Clifford, for she quite made up her mind thatthe subject of the spoilt hat would be brought forward again during herstay, and perhaps, in some way, her part in the proceeding might bebrought to light. This she dreaded happening more than anything. Itwould be worse, far worse, than telling it herself, for in this case whowould believe that it was an accident and not done intentionally? Oh,if she had only told it at first! Now each day made it more difficult.How true it is that "The wicked flee when no man pursueth." Lena wasrunning away from an imaginary enemy. If she had remained she wouldhave heard no word mentioned on the subject, for Mrs. Graham had writtenthe whole story to Mrs. Clifford, saying, as she believed was the case,that little Lucy had done it in a sudden fit of passion, but without anyreal intention of destroying it, simply kicking it out of the way as itwas the nearest thing on which to spend her anger. And an answer hadcome from Mrs. Clifford, regretting all that had happened, except theamiable and forgiving behaviour of her little friend Milly.