menu_book Chapter 18

CHAPTER XVIII. I TRIED NOT TO BE. It was pretty comfortable Mrs. Carmichael who explained everything. She was sent for it once, and came across the square to take Sarah into her warm arms and make clear to all that had happened. The excitement of the totally unexpected discovery had been temporarily almost overpowering to Mr. Carysford in his weak condition.

Upon my word! he said faintly to Mr. Carmichael when it was suggested that the little girl should go into another room. I feel as if I do not want to lose sight of her. I will take care of her, Janet said, and Mama will come in a few minutes. And it was Janet who led her away. We are so glad you were found, she said. You don't know how glad we are that you were found.

Donald stood with his hands in his pockets and gazed at Sarah with reflecting and self-reproachful eyes. If I'd just asked what your name was when I gave you my sixpence, he said, you would have told me it was Sarah Crewe and then you would have been found in a minute. Then Mrs. Carmichael came in. She looked very much moved and suddenly took Sarah in her arms and kissed her. You look bewildered, poor child, she said, and it is not to be wondered at.

Sarah could only think of one thing. Was he? she said with a glance toward the closed door of the library. Was he the wicked friend? Oh, do tell me. Mrs. Carmichael was crying as she kissed her again. She felt as if she ought to be kissed very often because she had not been kissed for so long.

He was not wicked, my dear, she answered. He did not really lose your papa's money. He only thought he had lost it, and because he loved him so much, his grief made him so ill that for a time he was not in his right mind. He almost died of brain fever, and long before he began to recover, your poor papa was dead. And he did not know where to find me, murmured Sarah. And I was so near.

Somehow she could not forget that she had been so near. He believed you were in school in France, Mrs. Carmichael explained, and he was continually misled by false clues. He has looked for you everywhere. When he saw you pass by looking so sad and neglected, he did not dream that you were his friend's poor child. But because you were a little girl too, he was sorry for you, and he wanted to make you happier. And he told

Ram Dass to climb into your attic window, and tried to make you comfortable. Sarah gave a start of joy. Her whole look changed. Did Ram Dass bring the things? She cried out. Did he tell Ram Dass to do it? Did he make the dream that came true? Yes, my dear, yes, he is kind and good, and he was sorry for you, for little lost Sarah Crew's sake.

The library door opened, and Mr. Carmichael appeared, calling Sarah to him with a gesture. Mr. Carrisford is better already, he said. He wants you to come to him. Sarah did not wait. When the Indian gentleman looked at her as she entered, he saw that her face was all alight. She went and stood before his chair, with her hands clasped together against her breast.

You sent the things to me, she said in a joyful, emotional little voice. The beautiful, beautiful things? You sent them? Yes, poor dear child, I did, he answered her. He was weak and broken with long illness and trouble, but he looked at her with the look she remembered in her father's eyes, that look of loving her and wanting to take her in his arms. It made her kneel down by him,

just as she used to kneel by her father when they were the dearest friends and lovers in the world. Then it is you who are my friend, she said. It is you who are my friend. And she dropped her face on his thin hand and kissed it again and again. The man will be himself again in three weeks, Mr. Carmichael said aside to his wife. Look at his face already!

In fact he did look changed. Here was the little missus, and he had new things to think of and plan for already. In the first place, there was mismention. She must be interviewed and told of the change which had taken place in the fortunes of her pupil. Sarah was not to return to the seminary at all. The Indian gentleman was very determined upon

that point. She must remain where she was, and Mr. Carmichael should go and see missmention himself. I am glad I need not go back, said Sarah. She will be very angry. She does not like me, though perhaps it is my fault, because I do not like her. But, oddly enough, missmention made it unnecessary for Mr. Carmichael to go to her

by actually coming in search of her pupil herself. She had wanted Sarah for something, and on inquiry had heard an astonishing thing. One of the housemaids had seen her steal out of the area with something hidden under her cloak, and had also seen her go up the steps of the next door and enter the house. What does she mean? cried missmention to Miss Amelia.

I don't know, I'm sure, sister, answered Miss Amelia. Unless she has made friends with him because he has lived in India. It would be just like her to thrust herself upon him and try to gain his sympathies in some such impertinent fashion, said missmention. She must have been in the house for two hours. I will not allow such presumption. I shall go and inquire into the matter and apologise for her intrusion.

Sarah was sitting on a footstool close to Mr. Carrisford's knee, and listening to some of the many things he felt it necessary to try to explain to her, when Ram Dass announced the visitor's arrival. Sarah rose involuntarily and became rather pale, but Mr. Carrisford saw that she stood quietly and showed none of the ordinary signs of child terror. Missmention entered the room with a

sternly dignified manner. She was correctly and well dressed and rigidly polite. I am sorry to disturb Mr. Carrisford, she said, but I have explanations to make. I am Missmention, the proprietress of the young lady's seminary next door. The Indian gentleman looked at her for a moment, in silent scrutiny. He was a man who had naturally a rather hot temper, and he did not wish it to get too much the better of him.

So you are Missmention? He said. I am, sir. In that case, the Indian gentleman replied, you have arrived at the right time. My solicitor, Mr. Carmichael, was just on the point of going to see you. Mr. Carmichael bowed slightly, and Missmention looked from him to Mr. Carrisford in amazement.

Your solicitor? she said. I do not understand. I have come here as a matter of duty. I have just discovered that you have been intruded upon through the forwardness of one of my pupils, a charity pupil. I came to explain that she intruded without my knowledge. She turned upon Sarah.

Go home at once! she commanded indignantly. You shall be severely punished. Go home at once! The Indian gentleman drew Sarah to his side and padded her hand. She is not going. Missmention felt as if she must be losing her senses. Not going? she repeated.

No, said Mr. Carrisford. She is not going home, if you give your house that name. Her home for the future will be with me. Missmention fell back in amazed indignation. With you? With you, sir? What does this mean? Kindly explain the matter, Carmichael, said the Indian gentleman, and get it over as quickly as possible. And he made Sarah sit down again and held her hands in his, which was another trick of

her papa's. Then Mr. Carmichael explained, in his quiet, level-toned, steady manner of a man who knew his subject and all its legal significance, which was a thing Missmention understood as a business woman, and did not enjoy. Mr. Carrisford, madam, he said, was an intimate friend of the late Captain Crew. He was his partner in certain large investments. The fortune which Captain Crew supposed he had lost has been recovered, and is now in Mr. Carrisford's hands.

The fortune? cried Missmention. And she really lost colour as she uttered the exclamation. Sarah's fortune? It will be Sarah's fortune, replied Mr. Carmichael rather coldly. It is Sarah's fortune now, in fact. Certain events have increased it enormously. The Diamond Mines have retrieved themselves. The Diamond Mines? Missmention gasped out. If this was true,

nothing so horrible, she felt, had ever happened to her since she was born. The Diamond Mines, Mr. Carmichael repeated, and he could not help adding with a rather sly unlawyer-like smile. There are not many princesses, Missmention, who are richer than your little charity pupil Sarah Crew will be. Mr. Carrisford has been searching for her for nearly two years. He has found her at last, and he will keep her. After which he asked Missmention

to sit down, while he explained matters to her fully, and went into such detail as was necessary to make it quite clear to her that Sarah's future was an assured one, and that what had seemed to be lost was to be restored to her tenfold. Also, that she had in Mr. Carrisford a guardian as well as a friend. Missmention was not a clever woman, and in her excitement she was silly enough to make one desperate effort to regain what she could not help seeing she had lost through her worldly folly.

He found her under my care, she protested. I have done everything for her, but for me she should have starved in the streets. Here the Indian gentleman lost his temper. As to starving in the streets, he said, she might have starved more comfortably there than in your attic. Captain Crew left her in my charge, Missmention argued. She must return to it until she is of age. She can be a parlor boarder again. She must finish her education. The law will interfere in my behalf.

Come, come, Missmention, Mr. Carmichael interposed. The law will do nothing of the sort. If Sarah herself wishes to return to you, I dare say Mr. Carrisford might not refuse to allow it. But that rests with Sarah. Then, said Missmention, I appealed to Sarah. I have not spoiled you, perhaps, she said awkwardly to the little girl. But you know that your papa was pleased with your progress. And,

I have always been fond of you. Sarah's grey-green eyes fixed themselves on her with the quiet, clear look Missmention particularly disliked. Have you, Missmention? She said. I did not know that. Missmention reddened and drew herself up. You ought to have known it, said she. But children, unfortunately, never know what is best for them.

Amelia and I always said you were the cleverest child in the school. Will you not do your duty to your poor papa and come home with me? Sarah took a step toward her and stood still. She was thinking of the day when she had been told that she belonged to nobody and was in danger of being turned into the street. She was thinking of the cold, hungry hours she had spent alone with Emily and Melchizedek in the attic. She looked Missmention steadily in the face.

You know why I will not go home with you, Missmention? She said. You know quite well. A hot flush showed itself on Missmention's hard, angry face. You will never see your companions again, she began. I will see that Ermengarde and Lottie are kept away. Mr. Carmichael stopped her with polite firmness. Excuse me, he said. She will see anyone she wishes to see. The parents of Miss Crew's

fellow pupils are not likely to refuse her invitations to visit her at her guardian's house. Mr. Carysford will attend to that. It must be confessed that even Missmention flinched. This was worse than the eccentric bachelor uncle who might have a peppery temper and be easily offended at the treatment of his niece. A woman of sordid mind could easily believe that most people would not refuse to allow their children to remain friends with a little heiress of diamond

mines. And if Mr. Carysford chose to tell certain of her patrons how unhappy Sarah Crew had been made, many unpleasant things might happen. You have not undertaken an easy charge, she said to the Indian gentleman as she turned to leave the room. You will discover that very soon. The child is neither truthful nor grateful. I suppose, to Sarah, that you feel now that you are a princess again.

Sarah looked down and flushed a little because she thought her pet fancy might not be easy for strangers, even nice ones, to understand at first. I tried not to be anything else, she answered in a low voice. Even when I was coldest and hungriest, I tried not to be. Now it will not be necessary to try, said Missmention acidly as Ram Dass salamed her out of the room. She returned home and going to her sitting-room, sent it once for Miss Amelia. She sat closeted

with her all the rest of the afternoon, and it must be admitted that poor Miss Amelia passed through more than one bad quarter of an hour. She shed a good many tears and mopped her eyes a good deal. One of her unfortunate remarks almost caused her sister to snap her head entirely off, but it resulted in an unusual manner. I am not as clever as you, sister, she said, and I am always afraid to say things to you for fear

of making you angry. Perhaps if I were not so timid it would be better for the school and for both of us. I must say I have often thought it would have been better if you had been less severe on Sarah Crewe and had seen that she was decently dressed and more comfortable. I know she was worked too hard for a child of her age, and I know she was only half fed. How dare you say such a thing! exclaimed Missmention.

I don't know how I dare, Miss Amelia answered with a kind of reckless courage. But now I have begun, I may as well finish, whatever happens to me. The child was a clever child and a good child, and she would have paid you for any kindness you had showed her. But you didn't show her any. The fact was she was too clever for you, and you always disliked her for that reason. She used to see through us both.

Amelia! gasped her infuriated elder, looking as if she would box her ears and knock her cap off, as she had often done to Becky. But Miss Amelia's disappointment had made her hysterical enough not to care what occurred next. She did, she did! she cried. She saw through us both. She saw that she were a hard-hearted, worldly woman, and that I was a weak fool, and that we were both of us vulgar and mean enough

to grovel our knees for her money, and behave ill to her because it was taken from her, though she behaved herself like a little princess, even when she was a beggar. She did, she did, like a little princess. And her hysterics got the better of the poor woman, and she began to laugh and cry both at once, and rock herself backward and forward. And now you've lost her, she cried wildly, and some other school will get her and her money, and if she were like any other child she'd tell how she's

been treated, and all our pupils would be taken away, and we should be ruined, and it serves us right. But it serves you right more than it does me, for you are a hard woman, Maria mentioned, you're a hard, selfish, worldly woman. And she was in danger of making so much noise with her hysterical chokes and gurgles that her sister was obliged to go to her and apply salts and sal volatile to quiet her, instead of pouring forth her indignation at her audacity. And from that time

forward, it may be mentioned, the elder Miss Minchin actually began to stand a little in awe of a sister, who, while she looked so foolish, was evidently not quite so foolish as she looked, and might consequently break out and speak truths people did not want to hear. That evening when the pupils were gathered together before the fire in the school room, as was their custom before going to bed, Ermengarde came in with a letter in her hand,

and a queer expression on her round face. It was queer because, while it was an expression of delighted excitement, it was combined with such amazement as seemed to belong to a kind of shock just received. What is the matter? cried two or three voices at once. Is it anything to do with the row that has been going on? said Lavinia eagerly. There has been

such a row in Miss Minchin's room, Miss Amelia has had something like hysterics and has had to go to bed. Ermengarde answered them slowly, as if she were half stunned. I have just had this letter from Sarah, she said, holding it out to let them see what a long letter it was. From Sarah? every voice joined in that exclamation. Where is she? almost shrieked Jessie.

Next door, said Ermengarde, with the Indian gentleman. Where, where? has she been sent away? Does Miss Minchin know? Was the row about that? Why did she write? Tell us, tell us! There was a perfect babble, and Lottie began to cry plaintively. Ermengarde answered them slowly, as if she were half plunged out into what,

at the moment, seemed the most important and self-explaining thing. There were diamond mines, she said stoutly. There were! open mouths and open eyes confronted her. They were real, she hurried on. It was all a mistake about them, something happened for a time, and Mr. Carrisford thought they were ruined.

Who is Mr. Carrisford? shouted Jessie. The Indian gentleman, and Captain Grew thought so too, and he died, and Mr. Carrisford had brain fever and ran away, and he almost died, and he did not know where Sarah was. And it turned out that there were millions and millions of diamonds in the mines, and half of them belonged to Sarah, and they belonged to her when she was living in the attic with no one but Melchizedek for a friend,

and the cook ordering her about, and Mr. Carrisford found her this afternoon, and he has got her in his home, and she will never come back, and she will be more a princess than she ever was, a hundred and fifty thousand times more, and I am going to see her tomorrow afternoon. There! Even Miss Minchin herself could scarcely have controlled the uproar after this, and though she heard the noise, she did not try. She was not in the mood to face anything more

than she was facing in her room while Miss Amelia was weeping in bed. She knew that the news had penetrated the walls in some mysterious manner, and that every servant and every child would go to bed talking about it. So until almost midnight the entire seminary, realizing somehow that all rules were laid aside, crowded round Ermengard in the schoolroom, and heard read and re-read the letter containing a story which was quite as wonderful as any Sarah herself had ever invented,

and which had the amazing charm of having happened to Sarah herself and the mystic Indian gentleman in the very next house. Becky, who had heard it also, managed to creep upstairs earlier than usual. She wanted to get away from people and go and look at the little magic room once more. She did not know what would happen to it. It was not likely that it would be left to Miss Minchin. It would be taken away, and the attic would be bare and empty again. Glad as she was for Sarah's

sake she went up the last flight of stairs with a lump in her throat and tears blurring her sight. There would be no fire tonight, and no rosy lamp, no supper, and no princess sitting in the glow reading or telling stories. No princess. She choked down a sob as she pushed the attic door open, and then she broke into a low cry. The lamp was flushing the room, the fire was blazing, the supper was waiting, and Ram Dass was standing smiling into her startled face.

Missy Sahib remembered. He said, She told the Sahib all. She wished you to know the good fortune which has befallen her. Behold a letter on the tray. She has written. She did not wish that you should go to sleep unhappy. The Sahib commands you to come to him tomorrow. You are to be the attendant of Missy Sahib. Tonight I take these things back over the roof. And having said this with a beaming face, he made a little salam and slipped through the skylight

with an agile, silentness of movement which showed Becky how easily he had done it before. End of chapter 18