Scenes and Characters

'And,' added Claude, 'I strongly suspect she is not in fault.'

'Why should you doubt what she says herself?' said Eleanor.

'What does she say herself?' said William, 'nothing but that she shut the door, and what does that amount to?-Nothing.'

'She says she touched the powder,' interposed Jane.

'That is another matter,' said William; 'no one told me of her touching the powder. But why do you not ask her? She is publicly condemned without a hearing.'

'Who accuses her?' said Mr. Mohun.

'I can hardly tell,' said Emily; 'she met us, saying she was very sorry. Yes, she accuses herself. Every one has believed it to be her.'

'And why?'

There was a pause, but at last Emily said, 'How would you account for it otherwise?'

'I have not yet heard the circumstances. Maurice, I wish to hear your account. I will not now ask how you procured the powder. Whoever was the immediate cause of the accident, you are chiefly to blame. Where was the powder?'

Maurice gave his theory and his facts, ending with the powder-horn being driven out of the window upon the green.

'I hear,' said Mr. Mohun. 'But, Maurice, did you not say that Phyllis touched the powder? How do you reconcile that with this incomprehensible statement?'

'She might have done that before,' said Maurice.

'Now call Phyllis,' said his father.

'Is it not very formidable for her to be examined before such an assembly?' said Emily.

'The accusation has been public, and the investigation shall be the same,' said Mr. Mohun.

'Then you do not think she did it, papa?' cried Lily.

'Not by shutting the door,' said William.

Phyllis entered, and Mr. Mohun, holding out both hands to her, drew her towards him, and placing her with her back to the others, still retained her hands, while he said, 'Phyllis, do not be frightened, but tell me where you were when the powder exploded?'

'Coming into the room,' said Phyllis, in a trembling voice.

'Where had you been?'

'Fetching a wafer out of the drawing-room.'

'What was the wafer for?'

'To put on Emily's letter, which she told us to send.'

'And where was Ada?'

'In the schoolroom, reading the direction of the letter.'

'Tell me exactly what happened when you came back.'

'I opened the door, and there was a flash, and a bang, and a smoke, and Ada tumbled down.'

'I have one more question to ask. When did you touch the powder?'

'Then,' said Phyllis.

'When it had exploded? Take care what you say.'

'Was it naughty? I am very sorry,' said Phyllis, beginning to cry.

'What powder did you touch? I do not understand you, tell me quietly.'

'I touched the powder-horn. What went off was only a little in a paper on the table, and there was a great deal more. When the rocket blew up there was a great noise, and Ada and I both screamed, and Hannah ran in and took up Ada in her arms. Then I saw a great fire, and looked, and saw Emily's music-book, and all the papers blazing. So I thought if it got to the powder it would blow up again, and I laid hold of the horn and threw it out of the window. That is all I know, papa, only I hope you are not very angry with me.'

She looked into his face, not knowing how to interpret the unusual expression she saw there.

'Angry with you!' said he. 'No, my dear child, you have acted with great presence of mind. You have saved your sister and Hannah from great danger, and I am very sorry that you have been unjustly treated.'

He then gave his little daughter a kiss, and putting his hand on her head, added, 'Whoever caused the explosion, Phyllis is quite free from blame, and I wish every one to understand this, because she has been unjustly accused, without examination, and because she has borne it patiently, and without attempting to justify herself.'

'Very right,' observed Eleanor.

'Shake hands, Phyllis,' said William.

The others said more with their eyes than with their lips. Phyllis stood like one in a dream, and fixing her bewildered looks upon Claude, said, 'Did not I do it?'

'No, Phyllis, you had nothing to do with it,' was the general exclamation.

'Maurice said it was the door,' said Phyllis.

'Maurice talked nonsense,' said Claude; 'you were only foolish in believing him.'

Phyllis went up to Claude, and laid her head on his arm; Mr. Hawkesworth held out his hand to her, but she did not look up, and Claude withdrawing his arm, and raising her head, found that she was crying. Eleanor and Lilias both rose, and came towards her but Claude made them a sign, and led her away.

'What a fine story this will be for Reginald,' said William.

'And for Rotherwood,' said Mr. Mohun.

'I do not see how it happened,' said Eleanor.

'Of course Ada did it herself,' said William.

'Of course,' said Maurice. 'It was all from Emily's setting them to seal her letter, that is plain now.'

'Would not Ada have said so?' asked Eleanor.

Lily sighed at the thought of what Eleanor had yet to learn.

'Did you tell them to seal your letter, Emily?' said Mr. Mohun.

'I am sorry to say that I did tell them to send it,' said Emily, 'but I said nothing about sealing, as Jane remembers, and I forgot that Maurice's gunpowder was in the room.'

Eleanor shook her head sorrowfully, and looked down at her knitting, and Lily knew that her mind was made up respecting little Henry's dwelling-place.

It was some comfort to have raised no false expectations.

'Ada must not be frightened and agitated to-night,' said Mr. Mohun, 'but I hope you will talk to her to-morrow, Eleanor. Well, Claude, have you made Phyllis understand that she is acquitted?'

'Scarcely,' said Claude; 'she is so overcome and worn out, that I thought she had better go to bed, and wake in her proper senses to-morrow.'

'A very unconscious heroine,' said William. 'She is a wonder-I never thought her anything but an honest sort of romp.'

'I have long thought her a wonderful specimen of obedience,' said Mr. Mohun.

William and Claude now walked to the parsonage, and the council broke up; but it must not be supposed that this was the last that Emily and Maurice heard on the subject.

CHAPTER XXIII: JOYS AND SORROWS

'Complaint was heard on every part

Of something disarranged.'

The next day, Sunday, was one of the most marked in Lily's life. It was the first time she saw Mr. Devereux after his illness, and though Claude had told her he was going to church, it gave her a sudden thrill of joy to see him there once more, and perhaps she never felt more thankful than when his name was read before the Thanksgiving. After the service there was an exchange of greetings, but Lily spoke no word, she felt too happy and too awe-struck to say anything, and she walked back to the New Court in silence.

In the afternoon she had hopes that a blessing would be granted to her, for which at one time she had scarcely dared to hope; and she felt convinced that so it would be when she saw that Mr. Devereux wore his surplice, although, as in the morning, his friend read the service. After the Second Lesson there was a pause, and then Mr. Devereux left the chair by the altar, walked along the aisle, and took his stand on the step of the font. Lily's heart beat high as she saw who were gathering round him-Mrs. Eden, Andrew Grey, James Harrington, and Mrs. Naylor, who held in her arms a healthy, rosy-checked boy of a year old.

She could not have described the feelings which made her eyes overflow with tears, as she saw Mr. Devereux's thin hand sprinkle the drops over the brow of the child, and heard him say, 'Robert, I baptize thee'-words which she had heard in dreams, and then awakened to remember that the parish was at enmity with the pastor, the child unbaptized, and herself, in part, the cause.

The name of the little boy was an additional pledge of reconciliation, and at the same time it made her feel again what had been the price of his baptism. When she looked back upon the dreary feelings which she had so lately experienced, it seemed to her as if she might believe that this christening was, as it were, a pledge of pardon, and an earnest of better things.