CHAPTER XIX

HOW BERYL'S TORMENTOR BECAME HER FRIEND

WITH the united help of Mr. Hollys and Andrew, Percy was at last able to get back to the house; but not without much suffering. Every movement gave him pain, and though he limped along bravely, and tried to bear up like a man, his strength was almost gone by the time they reached home. Beryl's heart grew tender with pity as she watched him. Her feelings towards Percy had been undergoing a rapid change within the last hour. She felt so sorry, that for the time she quite forgot how he had teased and plagued her since he came to Egloshayle.

The fortitude with which he endured his pain seemed to Beryl quite heroic. She was conscious only of compassionate admiration as she lingered by his side during the long half-hour whilst they awaited the coming of the doctor. There were actually tears in her eyes as she stood there, and it was only by exercising strong self-control that she could keep from crying aloud.

She did not think that Percy saw her tears, but he did.

At last the doctor came, and then Beryl was banished from the dining-room where Percy lay, and bidden to keep herself out of the way, like a good child. But, like many other children, she had a great objection to keeping out of the way, "like a good child," and she and Coral hung about the hall, and finally took up a position at the top of the staircase, whence they could watch the dining-room door, and observe and question all who passed in or out of it.

It was exciting to see how many things the servants handed in at that door. Hot and cold water, sponges, towels, linen-rags, Eau de Cologne, a scent bottle, cotton-wool, plaster, scissors, such were the articles called for from time to time, and supplied as quickly as possible. It was generally Miss Burton who opened the door, and took them in.

She seemed to be affording active help in this emergency.

Miss Hollys' nerves made her useless at such a time. All she could now do was to shut herself up in the drawing-room, and sob hysterically.

"I wish they had let me stay in the room to help," remarked Beryl, in rather an injured tone.

"Could you have helped?" asked Coral. "Wouldn't it have made you feel bad? His foot was bleeding dreadfully when he came in. You can see the marks now on the doorstep."

"Yes, I know," said Beryl; "there was a cut just above his boot. I tied my handkerchief round it. Aunt Cecilia said it made her feel faint to see the blood; but I should not be like that. What would be the good? If every one felt like that, there would be no doctors, I should think. Miss Burton does not mind it, you see."

"Do you think he will be able to go to London to-morrow?" asked Coral.

"I am afraid not," said Beryl, suddenly remembering how she had counted on his departure.

"You don't think he will stay till Friday?" asked Coral anxiously. "It will be tiresome if we have to give up the birthday party."

"Yes; I've just thought of that," said Beryl, looking grave; "I can't tell at all how it will be. I shall be vexed if we have to give it up. And we have told the children about it—oh dear!"

Beryl drew a deep sigh, and was silent for a few moments.

"After all, Coral," she added presently, in a softer voice, "it is worse for Percy than for us. I am sure he must be in dreadful pain. And he will be sorry not to go to-morrow, for his school begins on Tuesday, and I heard him say that he likes to be there on the first day."

It seemed to the children, as they waited anxiously on the staircase, that the doctor was a very long time attending to Percy. But at last they saw Mr. Hollys come out of the dining-room, followed by the medical man. The two gentlemen went into the library for a little private talk, and Beryl, judging that operations were suspended for a time, crept quietly downstairs to inquire into Percy's condition. She was pleased to learn that he was in less pain, and that the doctor hoped that his injuries were not serious. After hearing this news, Beryl consented to take her tea in the nursery, though before she had decidedly negatived Lucy's suggestion that she must be feeling hungry and faint.

Percy passed a night of pain, and was far from being in condition for a journey on the following day. But happily no bones were broken, and though his foot was badly bruised and cut, and his ankle slightly sprained, there seemed no cause for great anxiety concerning him. Miss Burton was his careful nurse, and shoved great skill in dressing and bandaging his wounded foot. He kept in his room all day. Beryl continued to feel the deepest interest in his sad case, and harassed her governess with innumerable questions regarding him at every opportunity.

Beryl did not suppose for a moment that she should be allowed to see Percy, and it was a great surprise to her when Miss Burton said that evening, "Beryl, Percy says that he would like to see you, if you will go into his room for a little while."

"Me, Miss Burton?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Are you quite sure he said he should like to see me?"

"Yes, indeed, I have made no mistake," said Miss Burton; "why do you ask? Do you not wish to see him?"

Beryl scarcely knew whether she wished it or not. It seemed to her at that moment as if there were two Percys—the Percy who had been her tormentor and plague, and the Percy who had borne his pain with such courage, and thanked her so gratefully for the help she had given him. She felt rather shy of going into the presence of the Percy whose pale, suffering face had haunted her, ever since she watched him lying still and exhausted on the sofa in the dining-room.

"Yes, I should like to see him," she said, in reply to her governess; but still she lingered, till Miss Burton, with a view of relieving her embarrassment, said, "Stay, I will give you some grapes to take to him. He has been complaining of thirst all the afternoon."

Bearing a beautiful cluster of purple grapes, Beryl hastened upstairs, and gently rapped at Percy's door.

"Come in," shouted Percy, in a voice high and tremulous.

Beryl went in. Percy was lying on a low couch by the window, clad in a dressing-gown of Mr. Hollys, which fell in loose folds over his long, slight figure. The injured limb, swathed in bandages, was raised on a pillow.

Percy looked far more like his own self than when Beryl last saw him; but his face was still very pale, and there were dark lines beneath his eyes, telling of the pain he had suffered, and still had to bear, though in a less degree.

"Oh, it is the Duchess!" he exclaimed, as Beryl appeared, "and bringing me grapes too! The very thing I should have named, if I had been asked to mention the fruit most to my desire at this moment. It is very good of your Grace, I am sure."

"How do you feel now? Is the pain any better?" asked Beryl, looking at him with grave anxiety, and quite forgetting to be angry with him for calling her "the Duchess."

"Yes, it is better than it was, but I feel rather seedy," said Percy, shaking back the long loose locks that were falling over his forehead. "This is a pretty go, isn't it? It's a confounded bore to think that I can't get to London to-day! I'm awfully vexed not to be at school on the first day. I shall get put down in my form. And you're sorry not to get rid of me to-day, aren't you?"

"No, I am not sorry," said Beryl, without a moment's hesitation, though her cheeks grew red as she spoke.

"Don't tell polite fibs; it's not like you to do that," said Percy. "I know you looked as pleased as Punch the other day when I said that I should go home on Monday."

"Yes; but then—" began Beryl; but suddenly stopped, not finding it easy to explain that her feelings towards him had changed since that day.

"Do you mean that you have changed your mind since then?" asked Percy, looking at her curiously. "Do you know, Beryl, I believe you like me better than you think? I know I saw your eyes near brimming over last night when I was in such pain."

"Nonsense," said Beryl; "don't be absurd!"

"There is nothing absurd in mentioning a fact that passed under my own observation," said Percy calmly. "Come, you can't deny that you were inclined to cry over this miserable foot of mine."

Beryl was silent for a few moments, and Percy watched her with a smile which was not satirical.

"Won't you eat your grapes?" said Beryl suddenly, feeling that the silence had lasted quite long enough.

"Thanks. They are certainly too good to be only looked at," said Percy; "but you must help me;" and he pulled off a fine bunch and handed it to her.

"Oh no," said Beryl, shrinking back. "I don't want any; they are all for you."

"But I don't want them all," said Percy decidedly; "if you won't have any, I won't either, so you may just carry them down again."

"That is silly," remonstrated Beryl; "because you are ill, and want them more than I do."

"No, I don't; you want them too," persisted Percy. "Come, sit down here, and put the plate between us, and we'll see who can eat the most."

There was no resisting Percy; he would have his own way. Happily there was an abundant supply of grapes, and the two were soon chatting in the most friendly way as they enjoyed the fruit together.

"I say," said Percy presently, in a confidential tone; "what's up for Friday?"

"Friday," faltered Beryl in surprise; "what do you mean?"

"Oh, you know," he returned, "you've planned something for Friday. What is it—a picnic?"

"What makes you think there is anything planned for Friday?" asked Beryl, anxious to discover how much he knew. "Has any one told you?"

"No one save your Grace," he replied. "You should not talk so loudly on the stairs, if you wish to keep your plans a secret."

"Oh, what have you heard?" asked Beryl, thinking that there was no keeping anything from this dreadful boy.

"Only you and Coral saying—'Do you think we can have it on Friday, after all? Would it be better to put it off? Perhaps it may rain next week.' From which I gathered that there was some grand excitement planned for Friday, and when I asked Miss Burton she did not deny that it was so; but only referred me to you for further information. So now tell me, what is it?"

"What ears you must have to hear that!" observed Beryl, pouting a little in her vexation.

"Yes, my sense of hearing is by no means defective, I am happy to say," said Percy complacently; "and now I am waiting to hear what is the ticket for Friday."

"I don't think I shall tell you," returned Beryl.

"Now that is unkind," said Percy, "after all the pain I have had, and the dreary time I have passed in this room to-day, to think that you won't tell me a little news that might cheer me."

"I don't fancy you will care for this news," said Beryl relenting; "but I'll tell you, if you will promise not to laugh at it."

"Not I; I'll keep as sober as a judge," replied Percy, pulling a ridiculously long face; "now then, what is it?"

Whereupon Beryl began to explain her plans for a birthday treat. Percy kept his word, and listened with the utmost gravity. Not a smile crossed his face, though he made some amusing comments, which set Beryl laughing. It was clear that he was not inclined to ridicule the affair, as Beryl had feared.

"I've got a splendid idea for Friday, Beryl," he said after a time.

"Oh, what is it?" she asked eagerly.

"That's my secret," he said, "and I mean to keep it."

"But I told you my secret," said Beryl, in an injured tone.

"And I will tell you mine when the right time comes," returned Percy; "if only I can get well enough to hobble about a little on Friday, you shall see what I will do."

"Oh, do tell me now," urged Beryl.

But Percy shook his head, and would not be persuaded. Beryl had to go away with her curiosity unsatisfied, but yet she felt convinced that Percy was a much nicer boy than she had before imagined.

When Beryl told Coral how Percy had discovered their secret, and repeated what he had said, her little sister seemed very dismayed.

"Oh, Beryl!" she exclaimed. "He will do something dreadful, and spoil everything; I know he will. Oh, I wish he would not interfere."

"I don't think so," said Beryl decidedly. "I believe Percy means to be kind and help us. Indeed, I am rather glad now that he knows all about it."

"Why, Beryl, how can you?" exclaimed Coral in the greatest surprise. "And you used to hate him so."

"No, I didn't," contradicted Beryl; "at least I ought not to have. It is wicked to hate people, Coral."

But it is to be feared that Miss Beryl would not have been so conscious of the sinfulness of hatred if she had not discovered that there was something amiable in Percy Everard's character.