A Colony of Girls Part 19

"But I wanted to come, Lillian. You do not seem to take that into consideration." Then, after a pause, "Ah! how lovely you look, but then it seems to me you invariably do."

Helen was right, for Miss Stuart, gowned in a dainty peignoir of white silk covered with filmy lace, looked especially charming.

At the compliment she laughed softly, and pinched Helen's cheek.

"There is no curing you, is there, dear? I thought, perhaps, a separation from me might have improved you."

"But you must not expect it," Helen maintained navely, "unless you grow less pretty."

Miss Stuart kissed her warmly. "Let us talk sense now," she said reprovingly. "Were you surprised at my message? I must explain. I was obliged to come down for mamma on a matter of business, and as it was too long a trip to return again to Bar Harbor to-day, I thought it better to rest, and remain overnight in town."

"And do you go back to-morrow?"

"Well, no; not if you will take me to Hetherford with you."

"Indeed I will, with the greatest pleasure."

"And you are quite sure it is convenient now? I did not expect to be with you until the middle of August, but being obliged to come down at this time, I thought perhaps I had better go to you at once for my visit. Later I have several others to pay, and do not know that I could manage then to get to Hetherford at all."

"I am delighted to have you at once, Lillian; you could not come too soon to please me, and you can always be sure of a welcome at the manor."

"Yes, with you, but I am not so sure of those sisters of yours."

Helen flushed. "Pray don't say that."

"Ah, my dear, don't let it trouble you. I rest quite content in your affection."

But whatever there was in Miss Stuart's words or tone, a shadow rested on Helen's face for some little while afterward.

Perhaps Lillian Stuart saw it, for, by and by, she began to speak again of the manor.

"You have no idea, Helen, how much I long to see your lovely home, nor with what pleasure I look forward to being with you, dearest."

"You are good to say so, Lillian, and I will do all in my power to make you happy."

"You will not have to try, dear, I am sure."

Miss Stuart rose and touched a bell. A quiet middle-aged woman answered it.

"Mrs. Perkins, Miss Lawrence remains with me overnight. See that dinner is prepared for us."

"Yes, Miss."

"Wait, Perkins. I want you to send Virginie to me."

In a moment the French maid was knocking on the door.

"Virginie, preparez la chambre voisine de la mienne, et portez-y le sac de Mlle. Lawrence."

When the girls at length were seated in Miss Stuart's pretty boudoir, they fell into a long and pleasant chat, finding much to say to one another after several months' separation.

By and by Miss Stuart presented a programme for the evening, saying.

"Now, Helen, you little puritan, don't dare to find fault or criticise. My cousin, Harry Stuart, is going to take us to the theater, and it will be perfectly charming. He is almost like a brother to me, and there could not be the slightest impropriety in it."

Helen did not demur then, but, after returning from the theater and in looking back over the evening, she felt some misgivings. "Harry"

proved to be a gay, scatterbrained youth, more or less in love with his beautiful cousin. He stared a little curiously at Helen on being presented, and then devoted himself exclusively to Miss Stuart, whom he treated with a lack of deference, a familiarity, which Helen hotly resented. Miss Stuart, however, was apparently quite oblivious of it, and flirted with him openly, exchanging glances of amus.e.m.e.nt with him, as Helen's face grew graver and graver.

A chance remark of his, which unfortunately reached Helen's ears, did not tend to soften her judgment of him.

"Who is your little friend, coz? She is tremendously respectable, and doesn't approve of us at all."

Helen retired to her room that night in a frame of mind to find serious fault with her fascinating friend.

Miss Stuart realized that she had gone a little too far, and determined to overcome the impression she had made. She well knew the power that her great beauty exerted over Helen, blinding her to faults that he who ran might read, so she coiled her ma.s.s of auburn hair most becomingly, slipped on a dainty pale blue wrapper, encased her feet in slippers of the same hue and presented herself in Helen's room, and proceeded to make herself so charming and agreeable that in ten minutes Helen had completely forgotten her grievance.

The following morning, at an early hour, they left for Hetherford.

Helen neglected to wire Jean of their change of plan, so no carriage met them at the station, and they were obliged to rumble up to the manor in the old Hetherford stage.

Helen's heart sank when Jean ran down to the veranda to tell her of Gladys' accident.

"You cannot imagine how I felt, Helen, for I knew it was all my fault.

I should not have forgotten her for one moment."

"Indeed, I think you were very careless, Jean." Helen spoke sharply, for her anxiety made her nervous and irritable.

Jean had gone forward and shaken hands with Miss Stuart, but at these words she turned abruptly away. She felt so reproached and woe-begone.

It almost seemed to her that all the world must know how completely absorbed she had been in that sweet talk with Farr, to have allowed her mind to wander from the little sister. In this guilty and depressed state of mind, her welcome to Miss Stuart somewhat lacked cordiality, and the latter, who had never liked Jean, found herself no whit better pleased.

Nathalie came flying down the stairs, making a fortunate diversion.

"Now, Helen, don't scold Jean, for she is heartbroken. Gladys is doing splendidly and will be about in a few days. How do you do, Miss Stuart? I am very glad to see you, and so sorry that our anxiety about Gladys is making us forget to make you at home. Please let me take your bag, and come right up to your old quarters."

Helen looked gratefully at her sister, and Miss Stuart's manner relaxed under this warm cordiality, and she followed Nathalie up to her room.

Jean went out upon the veranda, and walked slowly up and down. Her thoughts, which for a moment had been diverted, flew swiftly back to Farr. He had not spoken the words, yet she knew he loved her. She trembled a little, startled at the depth of emotion this knowledge aroused in her. So this was love--this sudden wild beating of her heart, this pa.s.sionate joy of living.

"Poor fellow," she thought, with yearning tenderness, "how much he has suffered."

It was a blessed comfort to feel that it lay within her power to help to brighten his lonely, loveless life. She stood quite still and clasped her hands tightly together. "I love him! I love him!" The unspoken words sent the blood to her cheeks, and she was filled with dismay. She roused herself abruptly from her dream and hastened upstairs to join Helen in the nursery.

That day seemed interminable to Jean. When the long afternoon had worn away and Farr had not come, she consoled herself with the thought that the evening would surely bring him. She tried to curb her impatience by filling the slow-footed moments with manifold unnecessary duties, but it seemed to her that the happy time would never come.

They were all very quiet at dinner, for Helen was listening for the slightest sound from the nursery, while Jean's absorbing thoughts held her tongue in chains.

"Well, well," cried Nathalie at last, "what will Miss Stuart think of us? No doubt that this is the home of the Sphinx. Our silence is growing gruesome."

Thus recalled to her duties as hostess, Helen glanced quickly at her friend, and was distressed to see the expression of cold disdain that rested on her face.

"I beg your pardon, Lillian," she said penitently, leaning forward and taking Miss Stuart's hand. "I am so upset about Gladys that I have forgotten my manners."