18. "I Tried Not to Be"

by Frances Hodgson Burnett

　　It was pretty, comfortable Mrs. Carmichael who explainedeverything. She was sent for at once, and came across the squareto take Sara into her warm arms and make clear to her all thathad happened. The excitement of the totally unexpected discoveryhad been temporarily almost overpowering to Mr. Carrisford in hisweak condition."Upon my word," he said faintly to Mr. Carmichael, when it wassuggested that the little girl should go into another room. "Ifeel as if I do not want to lose sight of her.""I will take care of her," Janet said, "and mamma will come in afew minutes." And it was Janet who led her away."We're so glad you are found," she said. "You don't know howglad we are that you are found."Donald stood with his hands in his pockets, and gazed at Sarawith reflecting and self-reproachful eyes."If I'd just asked what your name was when I gave you mysixpence," he said, "you would have told me it was Sara Crewe,and then you would have been found in a minute." Then Mrs.Carmichael came in. She looked very much moved, and suddenlytook Sara in her arms and kissed her."You look bewildered, poor child," she said. "And it is not tobe wondered at."Sara could only think of one thing."Was he," she said, with a glance toward the closed door of thelibrary--"was he the wicked friend? Oh, do tell me!"Mrs. Carmichael was crying as she kissed her again. She felt asif she ought to be kissed very often because she had not beenkissed for so long."He was not wicked, my dear," she answered. "He did not reallylose your papa's money. He only thought he had lost it; andbecause he loved him so much his grief made him so ill that for atime he was not in his right mind. He almost died of brainfever, and long before he began to recover your poor papa wasdead.""And he did not know where to find me," murmured Sara. "And Iwas so near." Somehow, she could not forget that she had been sonear."He believed you were in school in France," Mrs. Carmichaelexplained. "And he was continually misled by false clues. Hehas looked for you everywhere. When he saw you pass by, lookingso sad and neglected, he did not dream that you were his friend'spoor child; but because you were a little girl, too, he was sorryfor you, and wanted to make you happier. And he told Ram Dass toclimb into your attic window and try to make you comfortable."Sara gave a start of joy; her whole look changed."Did Ram Dass bring the things?" she cried out. "Did he tellRam 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 foryou, for little lost Sara Crewe's sake."The library door opened and Mr. Carmichael appeared, callingSara to him with a gesture."Mr. Carrisford is better already," he said. "He wants you tocome to him."Sara did not wait. When the Indian gentleman looked at her asshe entered, he saw that her face was all alight.She went and stood before his chair, with her hands claspedtogether against her breast."You sent the things to me," she said, in a joyful emotionallittle voice, "the beautiful, beautiful things? You sent them!""Yes, poor, dear child, I did," he answered her. He was weakand broken with long illness and trouble, but he looked at herwith the look she remembered in her father's eyes--that look ofloving her and wanting to take her in his arms. It made herkneel down by him, just as she used to kneel by her father whenthey were the dearest friends and lovers in the world."Then it is you who are my friend," she said; "it is you who aremy friend!" And she dropped her face on his thin hand andkissed it again and again."The man will be himself again in three weeks," Mr. Carmichaelsaid aside to his wife. "Look at his face already."In fact, he did look changed. Here was the "Little Missus," andhe had new things to think of and plan for already. In the firstplace, there was Miss Minchin. She must be interviewed and toldof the change which had taken place in the fortunes of her pupil.Sara was not to return to the seminary at all. The Indiangentleman was very determined upon that point. She must remainwhere she was, and Mr. Carmichael should go and see Miss Minchinhimself."I am glad I need not go back," said Sara. "She will be veryangry. She does not like me; though perhaps it is my fault,because I do not like her."But, oddly enough, Miss Minchin made it unnecessary for Mr.Carmichael to go to her, by actually coming in search of herpupil herself. She had wanted Sara for something, and on inquiryhad heard an astonishing thing. One of the housemaids had seenher 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 enterthe house."What does she mean!" cried Miss Minchin to Miss Amelia."I don't know, I'm sure, sister," answered Miss Amelia. "Unlessshe has made friends with him because he has lived in India.""It would be just like her to thrust herself upon him and try togain his sympathies in some such impertinent fashion," said MissMinchin. "She must have been in the house for two hours. I willnot allow such presumption. I shall go and inquire into thematter, and apologize for her intrusion."Sara was sitting on a footstool close to Mr. Carrisford's knee,and listening to some of the many things he felt it necessary totry to explain to her, when Ram Dass announced the visitor'sarrival.Sara rose involuntarily, and became rather pale; but Mr.Carrisford saw that she stood quietly, and showed none of theordinary signs of child terror.Miss Minchin 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 haveexplanations to make. I am Miss Minchin, the proprietress of theYoung Ladies' Seminary next door."The Indian gentleman looked at her for a moment in silentscrutiny. 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 Miss Minchin?" he said."I am, sir.""In that case," the Indian gentleman replied, "you have arrivedat the right time. My solicitor, Mr. Carmichael, was just on thepoint of going to see you."Mr. Carmichael bowed slightly, and Miiss Minchin looked from himto Mr. Carrisford in amazement."Your solicitor!" she said. "I do not understand. I have comehere as a matter of duty. I have just discovered that you havebeen intruded upon through the forwardness of one of my pupils--acharity pupil. I came to explain that she intruded without myknowledge." She turned upon Sara. "Go home at once," shecommanded indignantly. "You shall be severely punished. Go homeat once."The Indian gentleman drew Sara to his side and patted her hand."She is not going."Miss Minchin felt rather as if she must be losing her senses."Not going!" she repeated."No," said Mr. Carrisford. "She is not going home--if you giveyour house that name. Her home for the future will be with me."Miss Minchin fell back in amazed indignation."With you! With you sir! What does this mean?""Kindly explain the matter, Carmichael," said the Indiangentleman; "and get it over as quickly as possible." And he madeSara sit down again, and held her hands in his--which was anothertrick of her papa's.Then Mr. Carmichael explained--in the quiet, level-toned, steadymanner of a man who knew his subject, and all its legalsignificance, which was a thing Miss Minchin understood as abusiness woman, and did not enjoy."Mr. Carrisford, madam," he said, "was an intimate friend of thelate Captain Crewe. He was his partner in certain largeinvestments. The fortune which Captain Crewe supposed he hadlost has been recovered, and is now in Mr. Carrisford's hands.""The fortune!" cried Miss Minchin; and she really lost color asshe uttered the exclamation. "Sara's fortune!""It will be Sara's fortune," replied Mr. Carmichael, rathercoldly. "It is Sara's fortune now, in fact. Certain events haveincreased it enormously. The diamond mines have retrievedthemselves.""The diamond mines!" Miss Minchin gasped out. If this wastrue, nothing so horrible, she felt, had ever happened to hersince she was born."The diamond mines," Mr. Carmichael repeated, and he could nothelp adding, with a rather sly, unlawyer-like smile, "There arenot many princesses, Miss Minchin, who are richer than yourlittle charity pupil, Sara Crewe, will be. Mr. Carrisford hasbeen searching for her for nearly two years; he has found her atlast, and he will keep her."After which he asked Miss Minchin to sit down while he explainedmatters to her fully, and went into such detail as was necessaryto make it quite clear to her that Sara's future was an assuredone, and that what had seemed to be lost was to be restored toher tenfold; also, that she had in Mr. Carrisford a guardian aswell as a friend.Miss Minchin was not a clever woman, and in her excitement shewas silly enough to make one desperate effort to regain what shecould not help seeing she had lost through her worldly folly."He found her under my care," she protested. "I have doneeverything for her. But for me she should have starved in thestreets."Here the Indian gentleman lost his temper."As to starving in the streets," he said, "she might havestarved more comfortably there than in your attic.""Captain Crewe left her in my charge," Miss Minchin argued. "Shemust return to it until she is of age. She can be a parlorboarder again. She must finish her education. The law willinterfere in my behalf""Come, come, Miss Minchin," Mr. Carmichael interposed, "the lawwill do nothing of the sort. If Sara herself wishes to return toyou, I dare say Mr. Carrisford might not refuse to allow it. Butthat rests with Sara.""Then," said Miss Minchin, "I appeal to Sara. I have not spoiledyou, perhaps," she said awkwardly to the little girl; "but youknow that your papa was pleased with your progress. And--ahem--Ihave always been fond of you."Sara's green-gray eyes fixed themselves on her with the quiet,clear look Miss Minchin particularly disliked."Have you, Miss Minchin?" she said. "I did not know that."Miss Minchin 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 Ialways said you were the cleverest child in the school. Will younot do your duty to your poor papa and come home with me?"Sara took a step toward her and stood still. She was thinking ofthe day when she had been told that she belonged to nobody, andwas in danger of being turned into the street; she was thinkingof the cold, hungry hours she had spent alone with Emily andMelchisedec in the attic. She looked Miss Minchin steadily inthe face."You know why I will not go home with you, Miss Minchin," shesaid; "you know quite well."A hot flush showed itself on Miss Minchin's hard, angry face."You will never see your companions again," she began. "I willsee 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 Crewe's fellow-pupils are not likely torefuse her invitations to visit her at her guardian's house. Mr.Carrisford will attend to that."It must be confessed that even Miss Minchin flinched. This wasworse than the eccentric bachelor uncle who might have a pepperytemper and be easily offended at the treatment of his niece. Awoman of sordid mind could easily believe that most people wouldnot refuse to allow their children to remain friends with alittle heiress of diamond mines. And if Mr. Carrisford chose totell certain of her patrons how unhappy Sara Crewe had been made,many unpleasant things might happen."You have not undertaken an easy charge," she said to the Indiangentleman, as she turned to leave the room; "you will discoverthat very soon. The child is neither truthful nor grateful. Isuppose"--to Sara--"that you feel now that you are a princessagain."Sara looked down and flushed a little, because she thought herpet fancy might not be easy for strangers--even nice ones--tounderstand 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 Miss Minchin,acidly, as Ram Dass salaamed her out of the room.She returned home and, going to her sitting room, sent at oncefor Miss Amelia. She sat closeted with her all the rest of theafternoon, and it must be admitted that poor Miss Amelia passedthrough more than one bad quarter of an hour. She shed a goodmany tears, and mopped her eyes a good deal. One of herunfortunate remarks almost caused her sister to snap her headentirely off, but it resulted in an unusual manner."I'm not as clever as you, sister," she said, "and I am alwaysafraid to say things to you for fear of making you angry.Perhaps if I were not so timid it would be better for the schooland for both of us. I must say I've often thought it would havebeen better if you had been less severe on Sara Crewe, and hadseen that she was decently dressed and more comfortable. I knowshe was worked too hard for a child of her age, and I know shewas only half fed--""How dare you say such a thing!" exclaimed Miss Minchin."I don't know how I dare," Miss Amelia answered, with a kind ofreckless courage; "but now I've begun I may as well finish,whatever happens to me. The child was a clever child and a goodchild--and she would have paid you for any kindness you hadshown her. But you didn't show her any. The fact was, she wastoo 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 wouldbox her ears and knock her cap off, as she had often done toBecky.But Miss Amelia's disappointment had made her hysterical enoughnot to care what occurred next."She did! She did!" she cried. "She saw through us both. Shesaw that you were a hard-hearted, worldly woman, and that I was aweak fool, and that we were both of us vulgar and mean enough togrovel on our knees for her money, and behave ill to her becauseit was taken from her--though she behaved herself like a littleprincess even when she was a beggar. She did--she did--like alittle princess!" And her hysterics got the better of the poorwoman, and she began to laugh and cry both at once, and rockherself backward and forward."And now you've lost her," she cried wildly; "and some otherschool will get her and her money; and if she were like any otherchild she'd tell how she's been treated, and all our pupils wouldbe 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 hardwoman, Maria Minchin, you're a hard, selfish, worldly woman!"And she was in danger of making so much noise with her hystericalchokes and gurgles that her sister was obliged to go to her andapply salts and sal volatile to quiet her, instead of pouringforth her indignation at her audacity.And from that time forward, it may be mentioned, the elder MissMinchin actually began to stand a little in awe of a sister who,while she looked so foolish, was evidently not quite so foolishas she looked, and might, consequently, break out and speaktruths people did not want to hear.That evening, when the pupils were gathered together before thefire in the schoolroom, as was their custom before going to bed,Ermengarde came in with a letter in her hand and a queerexpression on her round face. It was queer because, while it wasan expression of delighted excitement, it was combined with suchamazement 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?" saidLavinia, eagerly. "There has been such a row in Miss Minchin'sroom, Miss Amelia has had something like hysterics and has had togo to bed."Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half stunned."I have just had this letter from Sara," she said, holding it outto let them see what a long letter it was."From Sara!" 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 Minchinknow? Was the row about that? Why did she write? Tell us!Tell us!"There was a perfect babel, and Lottie began to cry plaintively.Ermengarde answered them slowly as if she were half plunged outinto what, at the moment, seemed the most important and self-explaining thing."There were diamond mines," she said stoutly; "there were!" Openmouths and open eyes confronted her."They were real," she hurried on. "It was all a mistake aboutthem. Something happened for a time, and Mr. Carrisford thoughtthey were ruined--""Who is Mr. Carrisford?" shouted Jessie."The Indian gentleman. And Captain Crewe thought so, too--andhe died; and Mr. Carrisford had brain fever and ran away, and healmost died. And he did not know where Sara was. And it turnedout that there were millions and millions of diamonds in themines; and half of them belong to Sara; and they belonged to herwhen she was living in the attic with no one but Melchisedec fora friend, and the cook ordering her about. And Mr. Carrisfordfound her this afternoon, and he has got her in his home--and shewill never come back--and she will be more a princess than sheever was--a hundred and fifty thousand times more. And I amgoing to see her tomorrow afternoon. There!"Even Miss Minchin herself could scarcely have controlled theuproar after this; and though she heard the noise, she did nottry. She was not in the mood to face anything more than she wasfacing in her room, while Miss Amelia was weeping in bed. Sheknew that the news had penetrated the walls in some mysteriousmanner, and that every servant and every child would go to bedtalking about it.So until almost midnight the entire seminary, realizing somehowthat all rules were laid aside, crowded round Ermengarde in theschoolroom and heard read and re-read the letter containing astory which was quite as wonderful as any Sara herself had everinvented, and which had the amazing charm of having happened toSara herself and the mystic Indian gentleman in the very nexthouse.Becky, who had heard it also, managed to creep up stairs earlierthan usual. She wanted to get away from people and go and lookat the little magic room once more. She did not know what wouldhappen to it. It was not likely that it would be left to MissMinchin. It would be taken away, and the attic would be bare andempty again. Glad as she was for Sara's sake, she went up thelast flight of stairs with a lump in her throat and tearsblurring her sight. There would be no fire tonight, and no rosylamp; no supper, and no princess sitting in the glow reading ortelling stories--no princess!She choked down a sob as she pushed the attic door open, andthen she broke into a low cry.The lamp was flushing the room, the fire was blazing, the supperwas waiting; and Ram Dass was standing smiling into her startledface."Missee 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 wishthat you should go to sleep unhappy. The sahib commands you tocome to him tomorrow. You are to be the attendant of misseesahib. Tonight I take these things back over the roof."And having said this with a beaming face, he made a littlesalaam and slipped through the skylight with an agile silentnessof movement which showed Becky how easily he had done it before.