'If there is no other reason, I cannot think that that can be held to be a reason now. Of course your mother would like to have you always;unless you should be married--but then there are reasons why this should not be so.'
'Of course there are.'
'I do not think--that is, if I know all that there is to be known--I do not think, I say, that there can be any good ground for your leaving us now--just now.'
Then Grace sat silent for a moment, gathering her courage, and collecting her words; and after that she spoke. 'It is because of papa, and because of this charge--'
'But, Grace--'
'I know what you are going to say, Miss Prettyman;--that is, I think Iknow.'
'If you hear me, you may be sure that you know.'
'But I want you to hear me for one moment first. I beg your pardon, Miss Prettyman; I do indeed, but I want to say this before you go on. Imust go home, and I know I ought. We are all disgraced, and I won't stop here to disgrace the school. I know papa has done nothing wrong; but nevertheless we are disgraced. The police are to bring him in here on Thursday, and everybody in Silverbridge will know it. It cannot be right that I should be here teaching in the school, while it is all going on;--and I won't. And, Miss Prettyman, I couldn't do it, indeed Icouldn't. I can't bring myself to think of anything I am doing. Indeed Ican't; and then, Miss Prettyman, there are other reasons.' By the time that she had proceeded thus far, Grace Crawley's words were nearly choked by her tears.
'And what are the other reasons, Grace?'
'I don't know,' said Grace, struggling to speak through her tears.
'But I know,' said Miss Prettyman. 'I know them all. I know all your reasons, and I tell you that in my opinion you ought to remain where you are, and not go away. The very reasons which to you are reasons for your going, to me are reasons for your remaining here.'
'I can't remain. I am determined to go. I don't mind you and Miss Anne, but I can't bear to have the girls looking at me--and the servants.'
Then Miss Prettyman paused awhile, thinking of what words of wisdom would be most appropriate in the present conjuncture. But words of wisdom did not seem to come easily to her, having for the moment been banished by a tenderness of heart. 'Come here, my love,' she said at last. 'Come here, Grace.' Slowly Grace got up from her seat and came round, and stood by Miss Prettyman's elbow. Miss Prettyman pushed her chair a little back, and pushed herself a little forward, and stretching out one hand, placed her arm round Grace's waist, and with the other took hold of Grace's hand, and thus drew her down and kissed the girl's forehead and lips. And then Grace found herself kneeling at her friend's feet. 'Grace,' she said, 'do you not know that I love you? Do you not know that I love you dearly?' In answer to this Grace kissed the withered hand she held in hers, while the warm tears trickled upon Miss Prettyman's knuckles. 'I love you as though you were my own,' exclaimed the schoolmistress; 'and will you not trust me, that I know what is best for you?'
'I must go home,' said Grace.
