They brought little Agnes back, and of course they sent for the doctor.
The doctor stayed all night, for he said the child had received some very severe and terrible shock. Mrs. Merriman nursed her, and the next day, as soon as possible, Miss Frost returned.
But neither Miss Frost, nor the doctor, nor any one else could ease the terrors which had laid hold of the brain of little Agnes. She believed Miss Frost to be a sort of magnified Irene. The very name of Irene was enough to set her screaming again. She called Irene a fairy, a changeling, and nothing could soothe her or comfort her.
At last one day the doctor spoke to Mrs. Merriman.
"The case is quite a serious one," he said. "I cannot imagine what has happened to the child. You ought to find out who put that hedgehog in her bed. Hedgehogs are quite harmless in their way; but they would give a timid child a very nasty fright, which she evidently got."
"What we fear is that Irene did it. She has done all sorts of tricks of that kind before now. You remember how poor Miss Frost went to you on a certain occasion."
"Alas! that is true. But compared to this, her sin against poor Miss Frost was innocence itself. Such a timid, gentle, confiding little creature as this! And then report says that she was so devoted to Irene, and that Irene was so changed."
Yes, indeed, Irene was changed, and the great change lay now in the fact that she did not say a word or admit her suffering to any one; but sat moody and silent, scarcely attending to her lessons, indifferent to bad marks, without the least vestige of spirit, with no desire to injure any one. Even Lucy could not provoke a retort from her lips. Whenever she was allowed to, she stole outside little Agnes"s door to listen to her mutterings, and to wonder and wonder if the child was to die.
"If she dies I shall go mad," thought the miserable girl, "for she has not only been frightened, but she has been turned against me. Who could have done it?"
Miss Frost had returned; Rosamund had also come back (her father was better); but the key to the mystery was still missing. Irene declared positively to Rosamund that she had nothing to do with the fright that little Agnes had received; but no one could explain how the hedgehog had got into the child"s bed. Some one suggested that it had crawled in by itself, but this was repudiated as absolutely impossible. Somebody had put it there, and no doubt with evil intent. Rosamund thought a good deal over the matter. She thought so much that at last she came to a certain conclusion.
Little Agnes still lay between life and death, and death came nearer and nearer to the little, weakened frame each moment and each hour. Then Rosamund determined to take the doctor into her confidence. She waylaid him as he came downstairs.
"Dr. Marshall," she said, "may I speak to you for a minute?"
"Certainly, Miss Cunliffe," he replied.
Rosamund took him into one of the sitting-rooms. She closed the door behind them and bolted it.
"Why do you do that?" he said.
"Because I am not sure of things. I want to take you into my confidence, and I don"t want any one to hear."
"Well, Miss Cunliffe, you must be brief."
"First of all, may I ask you what you think of little Agnes? Is she in danger?"
"Undoubtedly she is in danger."
"Is she so much in danger that she is likely to die?"
"Unless she gets better soon, unless the strange pressure on her brain is removed, she will die," said the doctor. "The shock has been much more severe than any one could have believed possible, even from such an ugly thing occurring. But, be that as it may, she is in extreme danger of her life."
"Thank you," said Rosamund.
"Then you don"t want to say anything more?"
"I don"t think I do."
"I will come in again to-night. The child"s case is interesting. She is a dear little creature."
The doctor went away, and Rosamund entered the schoolroom. The girls were trying to perform their usual tasks. Irene was bending over a history-book. There was such a sadness now pervading the house, such a necessary stillness, that all life seemed to have gone out of it. The wintry weather continued, and it was as gloomy outside as in. Miss Archer was in vain explaining a rather interesting point in English history, to which no one was attending much, when Rosamund entered the room. All the girls seemed to feel that she had news.
She had. She marched up to the top of the room and stood there. Irene only raised her head; but Lucy, who was pale and had black shadows under her eyes, and Phyllis Flower, who had certainly looked far from well for the last fortnight, glanced at her with considerable interest.
"I have something to say," said Rosamund.
There was a dead silence for a moment; then Miss Archer said, "I am giving my history lecture, my dear."
"You will postpone it, for life--human life--is more precious than facts in old history," said Rosamund.
"Certainly, my dear," said Miss Archer in quite a meek voice; and she sat down and prepared to listen with as much interest as the others.
"It is this," said Rosamund. "Little Agnes Frost--I have just seen the doctor--is most dangerously ill." Phyllis Flower gave a gasp. "I won"t go into the particulars of her illness; but the doctor says that unless a certain load of terror can be immediately removed from her mind she will die. Yes, she will die. Now, girls, it is quite plain to me, as it is doubtless to all of you, that a most cruel practical joke was played on little Agnes. Some people can stand practical jokes; some people cannot. But those who are cruel enough to exercise them upon little children are really too contemptible even to be spoken about. I wish this girl or that girl joy who knows that she may be the cause of the death of so sweet a child as Agnes Frost."
Irene lifted a face of agony. She struggled to speak, but no words came.
"You most of you think," continued Rosamund, who had watched Irene, and saw the look on her face, "that my friend Irene Ashleigh is the guilty person; but I am quite as certain as I am standing here that she is not.
I have watched Irene for some time; and although she did all kinds of naughty things--very naughty things--months ago, she has abstained from anything of the kind for some time. In short, I believe her to be innocent, and I am going to ask her a direct question to that effect.
Now, I shall believe her word, for with all her sins she never told a lie yet. Irene, were you the cause of Agnes Frost"s terrible shock?"
"I was not," said Irene stoutly. She stood up as she spoke, and Rosamund went up and took her hand.
"Then some one else has done it. I believe Irene"s word."
"And so do I," said Laura Everett.
"And so do I," said Annie Millar.
"And I also," exclaimed Agnes Sparkes.
But Phyllis Flower and Lucy Merriman were silent.
"Phyllis, what is your opinion?" said Rosamund suddenly. "Don"t hesitate now. If you or any one else in this school has been tempted to commit a dastardly and wicked deed, don"t let the thought that you may have caused a child to die rest on your conscience for all your days. You will be miserable. Had you or had you not anything to do with the fright which little Agnes received?"
"Oh!" said Phyllis; and she suddenly left her seat and fell on her knees. She covered her face with her hands; she swayed backwards and forwards. "Oh, I know--I know! I can"t help myself. I did it."
"You did it--you?" said Rosamund sternly.
"Phyllis!" cried Lucy.
"Phyllis, you must speak up. The child"s life is at stake. You must speak out and tell the truth."
"Then I will," said Lucy in a defiant tone. "I didn"t know you were such a coward, Phyllis."
"Yes, I was a coward," said Phyllis. "I will tell my part of it. I did want a week in London, and I was tempted, and I put the hedgehog into Agnes"s bed."
"You yourself did that? You did that yourself--alone?"
"That is all I am going to tell."