Family Pride Or Purified by Suffering Part 19

CHAPTER XXI.

A NEW LIFE.

"NEW YORK, December 16th.

"To Miss HELEN LENNOX, Silverton, Ma.s.s.:

"Your sister is very ill. Come as soon as possible.

"W. CAMERON."

This was the purport of a telegram received at the farmhouse toward the close of a chill December day, and Helen's heart almost stopped its beating as she read it aloud, and then looked in the white, scared faces of those around her. Katy was very ill--dying, perhaps--or Wilford had never telegraphed. What could it be? What was the matter? Had it been somewhat later, they would have known; but now all was conjecture worse than useless, and in a half-distracted state Helen made her hasty preparations for the journey on the morrow, and then sent for Morris, hoping he might offer some advice or suggestion for her to carry to that sickroom in New York.

"Perhaps you will go with me," Helen said. "You know Katy's const.i.tution. You might save her life."

But Morris shook his head. If he was needed they might send and he would come, but not without; and so next day he carried Helen to the cars, saying to her, as they were waiting for the train: "I hope for the best, but it may be Katy will die. If you think so, tell her. Oh, tell her! of the better world, and ask if she is prepared. I cannot lose her in heaven."

And this was all the message Morris sent, though his heart and prayers went after the rapid train which bore Helen safely onward, until Hartford was reached, where there was a long detention, so that the dark wintry night had closed over the city ere Helen had reached it, timid, anxious, and wondering what she should do if Wilford was not there to meet her. "He will be, of course," she kept repeating to herself, looking around in dismay, as pa.s.senger after pa.s.senger left, seeking in stages and street cars a swifter pa.s.sage to their homes.

"I shall soon be all alone," she said, feeling some relief as the car in which she was seated began at last to move, and she knew she was being taken whither the others had gone, wherever that might be.

"Is Miss Helen Lennox here?" sounded cheerily in her ears as she stopped before the depot, and Helen uttered a cry of joy, for she recognized the voice of Mark Ray, who was soon grasping her hand, and trying to rea.s.sure her, as he saw how she shrank from the noise and clamor of New York, heard now for the first time. "Our carriage is here," he said, and in a moment she found herself in a close-covered vehicle, with Mark sitting opposite, tucking the warm blanket around her, asking if she were cold, and paying those numberless little attentions so gratifying to one always accustomed to act and think for herself.

Helen could not see Mark's face distinctly; but full of fear for Katy, she fancied there was a sad tone in his voice, as if he were keeping something back, something he dreaded to tell her; and then, as it suddenly occurred to her that Wilford should have met her, not Mark, her great fear found utterance in words, and leaning forward so that her face almost touched Mark's, she said: "Tell me, Mr. Ray, is Katy dead?"

"Not dead, oh, no, nor yet very dangerous, my mother hopes; but she kept asking for you, and so my--that is, Mr. Cameron, sent the telegram."

There was an ejaculatory prayer of thankfulness, and then Helen continued: "Is it long since she was taken sick?"

"Her little daughter will be a week old to-morrow," Mark replied; while Helen, with an exclamation of surprise she could not repress, sank back into the corner, faint and giddy with the excitement of this fact, which invested little Katy with a new dignity, but drew her, oh, so much nearer to the sister who could scarcely wait for the carriage to stop, so anxious was she to be where Katy was, to kiss her dear face once more, and whisper the words of love she knew she must have longed to hear.

Awe-struck, bewildered and half terrified, Helen looked up at the huge brown structure, which Mark designated as "the place." It was so lofty, so high, so like the Camerons, and so unlike the farmhouse far away, that Helen trembled as she followed Mark into the rooms flooded with light, and seeming to her like fairyland. They were so different from anything she had imagined, so much handsomer than even Katy's vivid descriptions had implied, that for the moment the sight took her breath away, and she sank pa.s.sively into the chair Mark brought for her, himself taking her m.u.f.f and tippet, and noting, as he did so, that they were not mink, nor yet Russian sable, but well-worn, well-kept fitch, such as Juno would laugh at and criticise. But Helen's dress was a matter of small moment to Mark, as he thought more of the look in her dark eyes as she said to him: "You are very kind, Mr. Ray. I cannot thank you enough," than of all the furs in Broadway. This remark had been wrung from Helen by the feeling of homesickness and desolation which swept over her, as she thought how really alone she should be there, in her sister's house, on this first night of her arrival, if it were not for Mark, thus virtually taking the place of the brother-in-law, who should have been there to greet her.

"He was with Mrs. Cameron," the servant said, and taking out a card Mark wrote down a few words, and handing it to the servant who had been looking curiously at Helen, he continued standing until a step was heard on the stairs and Wilford came quietly in.

It was not a very loving meeting, but Helen was civil and Wilford was polite, offering her his hand and asking some questions about her journey.

"I was intending to meet you myself," he said, "but Mrs. Cameron does not like me to leave her, and Mark kindly offered to take the trouble off my hands."

This was the most gracious thing he had said; this the nearest approach to friendliness, and Helen felt herself hating him less than she had supposed she should. He was looking very pale and anxious, while there was on his face the light of a new joy, as if the little life begun so short a time ago had brought an added good to him, softening his haughty manner and making him even endurable to the prejudiced sister watching him so closely!

"Does Phillips know you are here?" he asked, answering his own query by ringing the bell and bidding Esther, who appeared, tell Phillips that Miss Lennox had arrived and wished for supper, explaining to Helen that since Katy's illness they had dined at three, as that accommodated them the best.

This done and Helen's baggage ordered to her room, he seemed to think he had discharged his duty as host, and as Mark had left he began to grow fidgety, for a _tete-a-tete_ with Helen was not what he desired. He had said to her all he could think to say, for it never once occurred to him to inquire after the deacon's family. He had asked for Dr. Grant, but his solicitude went no further, and the inmates of the farmhouse might have been dead and buried for aught he knew to the contrary. The omission was not made purposely, but because he really did not feel enough of interest in people so widely different from himself even to ask for them, much less to suspect how Helen's blood boiled as she detected the omission and imputed it to intended slight, feeling so glad when he at last excused himself, saying he must go back to Katy, but would send his mother down to see her. His mother. Then she was there, the one whom Helen dreaded most of all, whom she had invested with every possible terror, hoping now that she would not be in haste to come down.

She might have spared herself anxiety on this point, as the lady in question was not anxious to meet a person who, could she have had her way, would not have been there at all.

From the first moment of consciousness after the long hours of suffering, Katy had asked for Helen, rather than her mother, feeling that the former would be more welcome, and could more easily conform to their customs.

"Send for Helen; I am so tired, and she could always rest me," was her reply, when asked by Wilford what he could do for her. "Send for Helen; I want her so much," she had said to Mrs. Cameron, when she came, repeating the wish until a consultation was held between the mother and son, touching the propriety of sending for Helen. "She would be of no use whatever, and might excite our Katy. Quiet is highly important just now," Mrs. Cameron had said, thus veiling under pretended concern for Katy her aversion to the girl whose independence in declining her dressmaker had never been forgiven, and whom she had set down in her mind as rude and ignorant.

She was well suited with Katy now, petting and caressing and talking constantly of her; but it did not follow that she must like the sister, too, and so she checked the impulse which would have prompted Wilford to send for her as Katy so much desired.

"If her coming would do Katy harm she ought not to come," and so Wilford's conscience was partially quieted, white Katy in her darkened room moaned on.

"Send for Sister Helen, please send for Sister Helen."

At last on the fourth day came Mrs. Banker, Mark Ray's mother, to the house, and in consideration of the strong liking she had evinced for Katy ever since her arrival in New York, and the great respect felt for her by Mrs. Cameron, she was admitted to the chamber and heard the plaintive pleadings: "Send for Sister Helen," until her motherly heart was touched, and as she sat with her son at dinner she spoke of the young girl-mother moaning so for Helen.

Whether it was Mark's great pity for Katy, or whether he was prompted by some more selfish motive, we do not profess to say, but that he was greatly excited was very evident from his manner, as he exclaimed:

"Why not send for Helen, then? She is a splendid girl, and they idolize each other. Talk of her injuring Katy, that's all a humbug. She is just fitted for a nurse. Almost the sight of her would cure one of nervousness, she is so calm and quiet."

This was what Mark said, and again the next morning Mrs. Banker's carriage stood at the door of No. ---- Madison Square, while Mrs. Banker herself was talking to Wilford in the library, and urging that Helen be sent for at once.

"It may save her life. She is more feverish to-day than yesterday, and this constant asking for her sister will wear her out so fast," she added, and that last argument prevailed.

Helen was sent for and now sat waiting in the parlor for the coming of Mrs. Cameron. Wilford did not mean Katy to hear him as he whispered to his mother that Helen was below; but she did, and her blue eyes flashed brightly as she started from her pillow, exclaiming:

"I am so glad, so glad. Kiss me, Wilford, because I am so glad. Does she know? Have you told her? Wasn't she surprised, and will she come up quick?"

They could not quiet her at once, and only the a.s.surance that unless she were more composed Helen should not see her that night had any effect upon her; but when they told her that, she lay back upon her pillow submissively, and Wilford saw the great tears dropping from her hot cheeks, while the pallid lips kept softly whispering "Helen." Then the sister love took another channel, and she said:

"She has not been to supper, and Phillips is always cross at extras.

Will somebody see to it? Send Esther to me, please. Esther knows and is good-natured."

"Mother will do all that is necessary. She is going down," Wilford said; but Katy had quite as much fear of leaving Helen to "mother" as to Phillips, and insisted upon Esther until the latter came, receiving numerous injunctions as to the jam, the sweetmeats, the peaches and the cold ham Helen must have, each one being remembered as her favorite.

Wholly unselfish, Katy thought nothing of herself or the effort it cost her thus to care for Helen, but when it was over and Esther had gone, she seemed so utterly exhausted that Mrs. Cameron did not leave her, but stayed at her bedside, ministering to her until the extreme paleness was gone, and her eyes were more natural. Meanwhile the supper, which as Katy feared had made Phillips cross, had been arranged by Esther, who conducted Helen to the dining-room, herself standing by and waiting upon her because the one whose duty it was had gone out for the evening, and Phillips had declined the "honor," as she styled it.

There was a homesick feeling tugging at Helen's heart, while she tried to eat, and only the certainty that Katy was not far away kept her tears back. To her the very grandeur of the house made it desolate, and she was so glad it was Katy who lived there and not herself as she went up the soft carpeted stairway, which gave back no sound, and through the marble hall to the parlor, where by the table on which her cloak and furs were still lying, a lady stood, as dignified and unconscious as if she had not been inspecting the self-same fur which Mark Ray had observed, but not like him thinking it did not matter, for it did matter very materially with her, and a smile of contempt had curled her lip as she turned over the tippet which even Phillips would not have worn.

"I wonder how long she means to stay, and if Wilford will have to take her out," she was thinking, just as Helen appeared in the door and advanced into the room.

By herself, it was easy to slight Helen Lennox, but in her presence Mrs.

Cameron found it very hard to appear as cold and distant as she had meant to do, for there was something about Helen which commanded her respect, and she went forward to meet her, offering her hand, and saying, cordially:

"Miss Lennox, I presume--my daughter Katy's sister?"

Helen had not expected this, and the warm flush which came to her cheeks made her very handsome, as she returned Mrs. Cameron's greeting, and then asked more particularly for Katy than she had yet done. For a while they talked together, Mrs. Cameron noting carefully every item of Helen's attire, as well as the purity of her language and her perfect repose of manner after the first stiffness had pa.s.sed away.

"Naturally a lady as well as Katy; there must be good blood somewhere, probably on the Lennox side," was Mrs. Cameron's private opinion, while Helen, after a few moments, began to feel far more at ease with Mrs.

Cameron than she had done in the dining-room with Esther, waiting on her, and the cross Phillips stalking once through the room for no ostensible purpose except to get a sight of her.

Helen wondered at herself as much as Mrs. Cameron wondered at her, trying to decide whether it were ignorance, conceit, obtuseness, or what, which made her so self-possessed when she was expected to appear so different.