The Angel and The Demon CHAPTER 23.
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"I have wronged you, Miss Harper," whispered Mrs. Dainty.
It cost the weak, proud woman an effort to make this acknowledgment. But Madeline's arms were around both of their necks, and the child was clinging to both with a half-trembling eagerness. This confession made all the rest easy.
"Return to us," she added, "and be to my children, what you once were."
"Do come back again!" It was the pleading voice of Madeline. "Oh, I wish you had never gone away!"
Florence felt a shudder run through the child's body, as if some fearful image had been presented to her mind.
"Say you will come back, and take your old place, Miss Harper," urged Mrs. Dainty.
The arm of Madeline which was around her mother's neck withdrew itself and joined the arm that circled the neck of Florence.
"Say yes! Do say yes, Miss Harper!" And the child's clasping arms were drawn very tightly.
"Yes," said Florence, as she kissed the child.
"Oh! I am so glad! So glad!" cried Madeline, overcome with joy at this concession. "If only you had never gone away!"
"We will be friends," said Mrs. Dainty, taking the hand of Florence Harper and pressing it warmly. "I did not understand you before. But I see clearer today."
"Let the past be forgotten," answered Florence. "All are liable to misconception. I was faithful to your children; and I will be so again."
Then, whispering into the ears of Mrs. Dainty, she added —
"I fear we are exciting Madeline beyond what is prudent."
"You are right," answered the mother. "We are forgetting ourselves."
Madeline was still on the bed. Gently disengaging the arms that were around her neck, Florence looked smilingly into the face of Madeline, and said, in a cheerful tone —
"Come, Maddy dear! you're wide enough awake now, after a long sleep."
"How long have I been asleep?" the child asked, curiously, glancing, as she spoke, toward the windows. "Is it morning?"
"No — the day is nearly done. It lacks scarcely an hour to sunset."
"Is it so late?" Madeline looked serious, and her face passed from transient light into shadow.
"Yes. You have slept a long time. But come, dear, you must get dressed for tea."
Madeline looked up at Miss Harper with a kind of vague wonder in her countenance, and then let her eyes wander slowly about the room, as if searching for some-person or object.
"Haven't I been away from here, Miss Harper?" she inquired, looking at Florence.
"Why do you ask that question?"
"I'm sure it isn't all just a dream. That Mrs. Jeckyl! Oh, dear! I feel so strangely!" And Madeline laid her hand upon her bosom.
"Don't think of anything, dear, but the happy present," said Florence, smiling into the little girl's face.
But the eyes of Madeline were filling with tears, and their expression had become very sad. "Oh, it was so dreadful!"
"What was dreadful, Maddy?" her mother asked.
"I don't know," she answered, in a bewildered manner. "I saw it all just now; and now it's gone again."
"What is gone, my love?"
"I thought she was going to kill me." The child spoke as if to herself.
"Who, Maddy?"
"It was Mrs. Jeckyl. She had me in a room. Oh, dear, mother! I don't know what's the matter with me!"
And the child shuddered, while an expression of almost abject fear came into her face.
"You are safe at home, my love," said Mrs. Dainty, in a soothing voice. "There is no Mrs. Jeckyl here, but kind Miss Harper instead. And she is going to stay with us."
"That's best of all," replied Madeline, partially recovering herself, and looking up into the face of Miss Harper. "I was so sorry when you went away — and that dreadful woman came in your place."
"Won't you rise now?" said Florence, taking Madeline by the hand and drawing her gently upwards. The child yielded, and sat erect in bed. Mrs. Dainty brought a frock, and a change of under-clothing, and both she and Florence busied themselves in removing the soiled garments of Madeline, and replacing them with such as were fresh and clean. The excitement of all this quickened and diverted her mind. When fully attired, and ready to join the anxious, expectant family, Florence said to her —
"I think your father and Uncle John are in the sitting-room. Shall we go down?"
She held out her hand. Madeline drew back for a moment.
"Come, dear?" Florence spoke cheerily. "I know Uncle John wants to see his pet."
Madeline took the hand of Miss Harper, who led her downstairs and into the sitting-room. Mr. Dainty, old Mr. Fleetwood, Agnes, and little George were there. Miss Harper gave each a warning glance, which was understood.
"Wide awake, pet?" said Uncle John, in a cheerful, affectionate voice. "What a nice long sleep you have had!"
Mr. Dainty and Agnes avoided any remark, or, indeed, any exhibition of more than common interest. George ran up to Madeline, kissed her lovingly, and drew his arm around her waist, but he had been cautioned by his sister, and so made no allusion to recent exciting events.
"Georgie," whispered Madeline, putting her lips close to her brother's ear, "Miss Harper is coming to live here again!"
"Is she?" responded the little boy, with a suddenly illuminated face.
"Yes, indeed. Aren't you, Miss Harper?"
And Madeline looked up into the face of her governess.
"If you want me?" was the smiling reply.
"Oh, that's grand!" said George, striking his hands together and jumping a foot from the floor. "Did you hear that, Uncle John?"
"Hear what?" asked the old gentleman.
"Miss Harper is coming back again!" answered the boy. "Oh, I'm so glad!"
Mr. Fleetwood threw an almost grateful look upon Florence, as he said —
"You have friends here, Miss Harper. Children are no hypocrites."
"If this is true, as I hope it is, let me welcome you with a most sincere welcome," said Mr. Dainty, coming forward and giving his hand to Florence.
Mrs. Dainty entered at the moment. She had lingered in the chamber after Florence left.
"It is true," she spoke out, with womanly frankness. "I have asked her to return, and she has kindly consented. We shall all know each other better in time, I hope."
The flushed cheeks, drooping eyes, and unsteady lips of Miss Harper showed emotion, not triumph; and no eye that then read her countenance, mistook its true expression.
Uncle John thanked his niece with his eyes, but said nothing.
"Aren't you glad? I am!" And George danced about the room, in his wild, impulsive way. "Hurrah for Miss Harper, and death on Old Snakes!"
Young George was losing himself.
"Georgie! Georgie!" Agnes spoke in warning and reproof. Mr. Dainty raised his finger; and Uncle John said, "Hush." But the boy's blood was up, and he rattled on:
"Old Snakes! If she comes here again, I'll shoot her! Old hag! Old Snakes!"
"George! Stop this instant!" said Mr. Dainty, in a stern voice.
"Was she here?" asked Madeline, her face growing suddenly pale.
Agnes took the boy's hand and led him away.
"Come with me to the school-room," said Florence, with sudden animation. "I want to see how it looks there." And she drew Madeline toward the door. "We had some pleasant times there, hadn't we, Maddy? Do you remember the stories I used to tell?"
They were already in the passage.
"Oh, yes, indeed!" was answered. "And they were such beautiful stories!"
"Would you like to hear another? I know a great many," said Florence.
"If you please, Miss Harper. I always love to hear your stories; they make me feel better."
"Oh, it looks as natural as can be!" said Florence, speaking with animation, as she entered the study-room. "Here is my arm-chair, just in the old place. There! I am in it again, feeling quite at home and comfortable."
"And I am in my little chair, close by your side, and waiting for a story," said Madeline, who was already feeling the love of her companion and true friend, as well as teacher.
"The story, is it?" And Florence bent down and left a kiss upon the sweet, upturned face. "Very well — my promise shall be kept. Now, let me think — what shall the story be?"
Miss Harper lifted her eyes, and sat thoughtful for some moments. Then, reaching her hand toward a table that stood near, she took up a Bible, saying, as she did so —
"I used to read you some of the stories in this precious volume, and I think you always loved to hear them. Shall it be a Bible story now?"
Florence was looking down upon the face of her pupil. Its expression suddenly changed into one of strong repugnance, and, with an impatient gesture, she said —
"No! I don't want to hear a Bible story!"
Florence was shocked by the tone and manner of the child, more than by her words.
"Not a story from the Divine Book, Maddy dear?" she said, in a voice touched by an irrepressible sadness. "Oh, you cannot mean what you have said! Angels are present with us in the holy word; and they bring to our souls peace and happiness. Let me read to you about the birth of our Savior in Bethlehem."
Miss Harper opened to the second chapter of Matthew: as she did so, Madeline turned her head away. Miss Harper began —
"Now, when Jesus was born — "
The instant these words reached the ears of Madeline, she sprang upon the volume in the hands of Miss Harper, and would have torn the open pages, if she had not been prevented. Her countenance was flushed almost to congestion, and her eyes gleamed with an evil light.
"Don't read that! I won't hear it! I hate it!" she exclaimed, passionately.
Florence felt a cold shudder run through her frame. Very still she sat, and silent, holding the hands of Madeline. For nearly a minute, the hush as of death pervaded the room. Then she released the passive hands she held, and laid one of her own upon the child's head, smoothing the soft hair with a gentle pressure.
"Now, Maddy, just think for a moment of the mind of a babe — as a garden all prepared in the spring-time for seeds. If true thoughts and gentle and good affections are sown in this garden — good and beautiful plants will spring up; but, if false thoughts and bad affections are scattered upon the ground — poisonous weeds will grow. You can see that?"
"Oh, yes," answered Madeline.
And Florence, speaking with tender solemnity, lifted the Bible from the table and held it open before Madeline.
"Fill your mind with its heavenly lessons. Take it into your heart, dear Madeline!"
Madeline stood almost rigid for a moment or two, as if life were suspended. Then, with a gush of tears, she caught at the book and clasped it passionately to her bosom.
"Amen! God be praised!" The lips of Florence parted, as her wet eyes sprang upward — there was a low murmur on the air; and these were her words of thankfulness.
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