The Children of Wilton Chase

Meanwhile all went merrily in the hay-field. Eric excelled himself in his rare power of story-telling. Basil and Ermie sat side by side, and whispered together. Miss Nelson had seldom seen a softer look on her elder pupil's face than now. She determined that Basil and his sister should be together as much as possible during the holidays.

Presently the little ones went home, and by and by the elder children followed their example. Miss Nelson saw that Marjorie was tired – that Ermie, too, looked pale – and she made them both go to bed early.

It was rather late when the governess returned to the schoolroom. She only went there to fetch one of her pupils' exercise-books, but seeing Basil reading on one of the sofas, she stopped to talk to him. She was a very direct person, and in conversation she always went straight to the point.

"It is a great comfort to me to have you at home, Basil," she said.

Basil looked up at her. Then he dropped his book and started to his feet.

"Won't you sit down?" he said politely.

"No, I am going into my own room directly. I repeat that I am glad you are at home, Basil. There was a talk of your going north instead, was there not?"

"Yes. Uncle Charlie wanted me to fish with him."

"It is on Ermengarde's account that I am glad," pursued the governess.

Basil nodded.

"I came back on account of Ermie," he said. Then he colored, and added quickly, "But I like being at home best."

"Yes, my dear boy, I understand. You are unselfish. You and Marjorie are remarkably unselfish. Basil, you have a great influence over your eldest sister; oh yes, I can see. In many respects Ermengarde is a difficult child; I want you to use your influence well, and – Will you come into my room, Basil?"

Basil picked up his book. Of course he would go. He did not want to; he thought it was rather fudge talking about his influence; and as to his being unselfish, he liked his own way as well as any one else. Had he not almost blubbered about not going to Scotland, and although he had thought of Ermie, still he had given up his desires with a pang. He hated Miss Nelson to think better of him than he deserved, but he did not know how to explain himself, and he followed her in rather a limp fashion into her private sitting-room.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, when he got there, "what a tiny room! Do they put you off with this? Oh, I say, I call it a shame!"

Miss Nelson loved her private sitting-room, and hated to hear it abused. She also particularly disliked the expression with which Basil had commenced his speech.

"I don't wish to interfere, my dear boy, but those words – you will excuse me – I am shocked."

"Do you mean 'by Jove'?"

"Yes; don't repeat the expression. It sounds like a calling upon false gods."

"Oh, I say, all our fellows do it."

"Does that make it right?"

Basil fidgeted, and wished himself back in the schoolroom.

"You were going to speak about Ermie," he said.

Miss Nelson seated herself by the open window. It was a warm and very beautiful summer's night. A gentle breeze came in, and fanned the governess's tired brow.

"What about Ermie?" said Basil. He wanted to get back to his book, and to the unrestraint of the dear old schoolroom.

"I think you have a good influence over Ermengarde," said Miss Nelson, raising her face to his.

"Yes, yes," he answered impatiently; "more than one person has said that to me. I have a good influence, but why should I have a good influence? I mean, why is it necessary? Ermie isn't worse than other people. It sounds as if you were all abusing her when you talk of my good influence. I hate humbug. I'm no better than other fellows. I'm fond of Ermie I suppose, and that's about the beginning and end of my influence."

"Exactly," said Miss Nelson. She was not listening to all the boy's words. Her thoughts were far away.

"Ermie is difficult," she began. Then she stopped and uttered an exclamation.

"Look, Basil, is that a key at your feet?"

Basil stooped, and picked up the key of Miss Nelson's cupboard.

"Put it in the lock of the cupboard behind you, my boy. I am glad it is found – truly glad. I thought I could not have put it away. And yet Ermengarde seemed so sure that it was not in the lock when she was in the room."

"Oh, it fell out, I suppose," said Basil. He was not interested in the key, and he stood up now, prepared to go.

"Those photographs I spoke about are in the cupboard, Basil. I could not bring them to you because I could not find the key. Would you like to see them now?"

"Thanks," said Basil. "Perhaps, if you don't mind, I had better look at them by daylight."

When Basil said this, Miss Nelson also stood up. He looked at her, being quite sure now she would wish him good-night and let him go. Her eyes had a peculiar, terrified, staring expression. She rushed to the mantelpiece; then she turned and grasped the boy's arm.

"Basil," she said, "the picture is gone!"

"What picture?" he asked. He was really frightened at the anguished expression in Miss Nelson's matter-of-fact face.

"Mine," she answered, clasping his hand tighter. "My treasure, the picture of my – " here she broke off. "It is gone, Basil – see, and another put in its place! My miniature is gone! it has been stolen!"

"No, no," said Basil. "It couldn't have been. People don't steal pictures at the Chase. There are no thieves. Let me look for it for you."

"My miniature – my portrait. I don't speak of it – I can't!" Her voice shook. "No, no; it is gone. You see, Basil, it always hung here, and now another has been put on the same hook. That shows that the deed was intentional; the miniature is stolen!"

She sat down and clasped her hands over her face; her thin long fingers trembled.

"I'm awfully sorry for you," said Basil. He could not understand such emotion over any mere picture, but he had the kindest of hearts, and distress of any sort always moved him.

"I'm awfully sorry," he repeated.

Miss Nelson looked up at his tone.

"Basil," she said, "when you have very few things to love, you value the few intensely. I did – I do. You don't know, my boy, what it is to be a lonely woman. May you never understand my feelings. The miniature is gone; it was stolen, purposely."

"Oh, we'll find the thief," said Basil. "If you are sure the picture was taken, we'll make no end of a fuss, and my father will help. Of course you must not lose anything you value in this house. You shall have it back; we'll all see to that."

"Thank you, Basil; I'm sure you'll do your best."

Miss Nelson's face looked as unhappy as ever.

"You must try and cheer up, Miss Nelson," said the school-boy. "You shall have your picture, that I promise you."

Miss Nelson was silent for a minute.