e. She had been brought up
in a stiff, cold home, by a stiff, cold mother, and it was hard for her
to go against her nature. The girls of Ardshiel were altogether on the
side of Hollyhock, and Leucha was more lonely than ever. Her angry
boast that she would write to her mother and ask to be taken from the
school she had certainly not courage enough to carry out. Lady
Crossways would have been furious, and would have come quickly to
Ardshiel to punish her rebellious child, and as likely as not to fall
under Hollyhock's charm.

Leucha had, therefore, to remain at the school, and as she had now
literally no friends (for even the girl who had played the kitchen cat
in the charade had completely deserted her, and her cousins, the
Frasers, had given her up long ago), she was forced to remain in
terrible isolation.

Poor Mrs Macintyre was most unhappy about the girl; and as for
Hollyhock, she was downright wretched, but also, as she herself
described it, very wicked-like and full of a big slice o' the de'il.
The intense unhappiness of her mind caused her to be most freakish in
her behaviour, to tell impossible ghost-stories, and as she could not
sleep at nights and was really not at all well, to spend her time in
planning fresh plots for the annoyance of Leucha.

Hollyhock, with all her loving nature, was also most defiant and most
daring, and there were few things she would pause at to punish the
English girl.

How queer is life! These two girls loved each other, and yet neither
would succumb, neither would yield to the desires of the other.

Hollyhock tried to forget her constant headaches, her bad nights, her
restless spirit, by employing her satellites in all sorts of
mischievous tasks. No one noticed that she was not well, for her
cheeks were apple-red with the glow of apparent health, and her lovely,
dark, affectionate eyes had never looked more brilliant than at present.

Nevertheless, she _would_ pay Leuchy out--Leuchy, who had now no one to
protect her, as even the pious Meg Drummond was not allowed to make
special friends with her. Meg, in her way, was as commonplace as
Leucha, and she thought it a fine thing to know the daughter of an
English nobleman; but Meg was strictly forbidden to show any preference
for Leucha, who would have gladly received her, and been even now
slightly comforted by her dull society. But the fiat had gone forth.
Meg had made immense mischief in the school by her confession.