ing could be more appealing than her glance. It melted the hearts of
Phyllis and Nora, who began to sob, and to declare brokenly that they had
gone too, and that they were very, very sorry.

Spurred by their example Mary Price also confessed, and one by one all
the little conspirators revealed the truth, with the exception of Susan,
who kept her eyes steadily fixed on the floor.

"Susan Drummond," said Mrs. Willis, "come here."

There was something in her tone which startled every girl in the school.
Never had they heard this ring in their teacher's voice before.

"Susan," said Mrs. Willis, "I don't ask you if you are guilty; I fear,
poor miserable girl, that if I did you would load your conscience with a
fresh lie. I don't ask you if you are guilty because I know you are. The
fact of your running without leave to see old Betty is circumstantial
evidence. I judge you by that and pronounce you guilty. Now, young
ladies, you who have treated me so badly, who have betrayed my trust, who
have been wanting in honor, I must think, I must ask God to teach me how
to deal with you. In the meantime, you cannot associate with your
companions. Miss Good, will you take each of these eight girls to their
bedrooms."

As Annie was leaving the room she looked full into Mrs. Willis' face.
Strange to say, at this moment of her great disgrace the cloud which had
so long brooded over her was lifted. The sweet eyes never looked sweeter.
The old Annie, and yet a better and a braver Annie than had ever existed
before, followed her companions out of the school-room.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

IS SHE STILL GUILTY?

On the evening of that day Cecil Temple knocked at the door of Mrs.
Willis' private sitting-room.

"Ah, Cecil! is that you?" said her governess. "I am always glad to see
you, dear; but I happen to be particularly busy to-night. Have you
anything in particular to say to me?"

"I only wanted to talk about Annie, Mrs. Willis. You believe in her at
last, don't you?"

"Believe in her at last!" said the head-mistress in a tone of
astonishment and deep pain. "No, Cecil, my dear; you ask too much of my
faith. I do not believe in Annie."

Cecil paused; she hesitated, and seemed half afraid to proceed.

"Perhaps," she said at last in a slightly timid tone, "you have not seen
her since this morning?"

"No; I have been particularly busy. Besides, the eight culprits are under
punishment; part of their punishment is that I will not