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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of King Midas, by Upton Sinclair
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: King Midas
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4923]
+This file was first posted on March 27, 2002
+Last Updated: March 10, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING MIDAS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+KING MIDAS
+
+A ROMANCE
+
+By Upton Sinclair
+
+
+  I dreamed that Soul might dare the pain,
+    Unlike the prince of old,
+  And wrest from heaven the fiery touch
+    That turns all things to gold.
+
+
+New York and London
+
+1901
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+In the course of this story, the author has had occasion to refer to
+Beethoven's Sonata Appassionata as containing a suggestion of the
+opening theme of the Fifth Symphony. He has often seen this stated,
+and believed that the statement was generally accepted as true.
+Since writing, however, he has heard the opinion expressed, by a
+musician who is qualified to speak as an authority, that the two
+themes have nothing to do with each other. The author himself is not
+competent to have an opinion on the subject, but because the
+statement as first made is closely bound up with the story, he has
+allowed it to stand unaltered.
+
+The two extracts from MacDowell's “Woodland Sketches,” on pages 214
+and 291, are reprinted with the kind permission of Professor
+MacDowell and of Arthur P. Schmidt, publisher.
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+In the merry month of May.
+
+
+KING MIDAS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+  “O Madchen, Madchen,
+  Wie lieb' ich dich!”
+
+It was that time of year when all the world belongs to poets, for
+their harvest of joy; when those who seek the country not for
+beauty, but for coolness, have as yet thought nothing about it, and
+when those who dwell in it all the time are too busy planting for
+another harvest to have any thought of poets; so that the latter,
+and the few others who keep something in their hearts to chime with
+the great spring-music, have the woods and waters all for their own
+for two joyful months, from the time that the first snowy bloodroot
+has blossomed, until the wild rose has faded and nature has no more
+to say. In those two months there are two weeks, the ones that usher
+in the May, that bear the prize of all the year for glory; the
+commonest trees wear green and silver then that would outshine a
+coronation robe, and if a man has any of that prodigality of spirit
+which makes imagination, he may hear the song of all the world.
+
+It was on such a May morning in the midst of a great forest of pine
+trees, one of those forests whose floors are moss-covered ruins that
+give to them the solemnity of age and demand humility from those who
+walk within their silences. There was not much there to tell of the
+springtime, for the pines are unsympathetic, but it seemed as if all
+the more wealth had been flung about on the carpeting beneath. Where
+the moss was not were flowing beds of fern, and the ground was
+dotted with slender harebells and the dusty, half-blossomed
+corydalis, while from all the rocks the bright red lanterns of the
+columbine were dangling.
+
+Of the beauty so wonderfully squandered there was but one witness, a
+young man who was walking slowly along, stepping as it seemed where
+there were no flowers; and who, whenever he stopped to gaze at a
+group of them, left them unmolested in their happiness. He was tall
+and slenderly built, with a pale face shadowed by dark hair; he was
+clad in black, and carried in one hand a half-open book, which,
+however, he seemed to have forgotten.
+
+A short distance ahead was a path, scarcely marked except where the
+half-rotted trees were trodden through. Down this the young man
+turned, and a while later, as his ear was caught by the sound of
+falling water, he quickened his steps a trifle, until he came to a
+little streamlet which flowed through the forest, taking for its bed
+the fairest spot in that wonderland of beauty. It fled from rock to
+rock covered with the brightest of bright green moss and with tender
+fern that was but half uncurled, and it flashed in the sunlit places
+and tinkled from the deep black shadows, ever racing faster as if to
+see what more the forest had to show. The young man's look had been
+anxious before, but he brightened in spite of himself in the company
+of the streamlet.
+
+Not far beyond was a place where a tiny rill flowed down from the
+high rocks above, and where the path broadened out considerably. It
+was a darkly shadowed spot, and the little rill was gathered in a
+sunken barrel, which the genius of the place had made haste to cover
+with the green uniform worn by all else that was to be seen. Beside
+the spring thus formed the young man seated himself, and after
+glancing impatiently at his watch, turned his gaze upon the beauty
+that was about him. Upon the neighboring rocks the columbine and
+harebell held high revel, but he did not notice them so much as a
+new sight that flashed upon his eye; for the pool where the two
+streamlets joined was like a nest which the marsh-marigold had taken
+for its home. The water was covered with its bright green and
+yellow, and the young man gazed at the blossoms with eager delight,
+until finally he knelt and plucked a few of them, which he laid,
+cool and gleaming, upon the seat by the spring.
+
+The flowers did not hold his attention very long, however; he rose
+up and turned away towards where, a few steps beyond, the open
+country could be seen between the tree trunks. Beyond the edge of
+the woods was a field, through which the footpath and the streamlet
+both ran, the former to join a road leading to a little town which
+lay in the distance. The landscape was beautiful in its morning
+freshness, but it was not that which the young man thought of; he
+had given but one glance before he started back with a slight
+exclamation, his face turning paler. He stepped into the concealment
+of the thick bushes at one side, where he stood gazing out,
+motionless except for a slight trembling. Down the road he had seen
+a white-clad figure just coming out of the village; it was too far
+away to be recognized, but it was a young girl, walking with a quick
+and springing step, and he seemed to know who it was.
+
+She had not gone very far before she came to a thick hedge which
+lined the roadside and hid her from the other's view; he could not
+see her again until she came to the place where the streamlet was
+crossed by a bridge, and where the little path turned off towards
+the forest. In the meantime he stood waiting anxiously; for when she
+reached there he would see her plainly for the first time, and also
+know if she were coming to the spring. She must have stopped to look
+at something, for the other had almost started from his hiding place
+in his eagerness when finally she swept past the bushes. She turned
+down the path straight towards him, and he clasped his hands
+together in delight as he gazed at her.
+
+And truly she was a very vision of the springtime, as she passed
+down the meadows that were gleaming with their first sprinkling of
+buttercups. She was clad in a dress of snowy white, which the wind
+swept before her as she walked; and it had stolen one strand of her
+golden hair to toss about and play with. She came with all the
+eagerness and spring of the brooklet that danced beside her, her
+cheeks glowing with health and filled with the laughter of the
+morning. Surely, of all the flowers of the May-time there is none so
+fair as the maiden. And the young man thought as he stood watching
+her that in all the world there was no maiden so fair as this.
+
+She did not see him, for her eyes were lifted to a little bobolink
+that had come flying down the wind. One does not hear the bobolink
+at his best unless one goes to hear him; for sheer glorified
+happiness there is in all our land no bird like him at the hour of
+sunrise, when he is drunk with the morning breeze and the sight of
+the dew-filled roses. At present a shower had just passed and the
+bobolink may have thought that another dawn had come; or perhaps he
+saw the maiden. At any rate, he perched himself upon the topmost
+leaf of the maple tree, still half-flying, as if scorning even that
+much support; and there he sang his song. First he gave his long
+prelude that one does not often hear--a few notes a score of times
+repeated, and growing swift and loud, and more and more strenuous
+and insistent; as sometimes the orchestra builds up its climax, so
+that the listener holds his breath and waits for something, he knows
+not what. Then he paused a moment and turned his head to see if the
+girl were watching, and filled his throat and poured out his
+wonderful gushing music, with its watery and bell-like tone that
+only the streamlet can echo, from its secret places underneath the
+banks. Again and again he gave it forth, the white patches on his
+wings flashing in the sunlight and both himself and his song one
+thrill of joy.
+
+The girl's face was lit up with delight as she tripped down the
+meadow path. A gust of wind came up behind her, and bowed the grass
+and the flowers before her and swung the bird upon the tree; and so
+light was the girl's step that it seemed to lift her and sweep her
+onward. As it grew stronger she stretched out her arms to it and
+half leaned upon it and flung her head back for the very fullness of
+her happiness. The wind tossed her skirts about her, and stole
+another tress of hair, and swung the lily which she had plucked and
+which she carried in her hand. It is only when one has heard much
+music that he understands the morning wind, and knows that it is a
+living thing about which he can say such things as that; one needs
+only to train his ear and he can hear its footsteps upon the
+meadows, and hear it calling to him from the tops of the trees.
+
+The girl was the very spirit of the wind at that moment, and she
+seemed to feel that some music was needed. She glanced up again at
+the bobolink, who had ceased his song; she nodded to him once as if
+for a challenge, and then, still leaning back upon the breeze, and
+keeping time with the flower in her hand, she broke out into a happy
+song:
+
+  “I heard a streamlet gushing
+    From out its rocky bed,
+  Far down the valley rushing,
+    So fresh and clear it sped.”
+
+But then, as if even Schubert were not equal to the fullness of her
+heart, or because the language of joy has no words, she left the
+song unfinished and swept on in a wild carol that rose and swelled
+and made the forest echo. The bobolink listened and then flew on to
+listen again, while still the girl poured out her breathless music,
+a mad volley of soaring melody; it seemed fairly to lift her from
+her feet, and she was half dancing as she went. There came another
+gust of wind and took her in its arms; and the streamlet fled before
+her; and thus the three, in one wild burst of happiness, swept into
+the woodland together.
+
+There in its shadows the girl stopped short, her song cut in half by
+the sight of the old forest in its majesty. One could not have
+imagined a greater contrast than the darkness and silence which
+dwelt beneath the vast canopy, and she gazed about her in rapture,
+first at the trees and then at the royal carpet of green, starred
+with its fields of flowers. Her breast heaved, and she stretched out
+her arms as if she would have clasped it all to her.
+
+“Oh, it is so beautiful!” she cried aloud. “It is so beautiful!”
+
+In the meantime the young man, still unseen, had been standing in
+the shadow of the bushes, drinking in the sight. The landscape and
+the figure and the song had all faded from his thoughts, or rather
+blended themselves as a halo about one thing, the face of this girl.
+For it was one of those faces that a man may see once in a lifetime
+and keep as a haunting memory ever afterwards, as a vision of the
+sweetness and glory of woman; at this moment it was a face
+transfigured with rapture, and the man who was gazing upon it was
+trembling, and scarcely aware of where he was.
+
+For fully a minute more the girl stood motionless, gazing about at
+the forest; then she chanced to look towards the spring, where she
+saw the flowers upon the seat.
+
+“Why, someone has left a nosegay!” she exclaimed, as she started
+forward; but that seemed to suggest another thought to her, and she
+looked around. As she did so she caught sight of the young man and
+sprang towards him. “Why, Arthur! You here!” she cried.
+
+The other started forward as if he would have clasped her in his
+arms; but then recollecting himself he came forward very slowly,
+half lowering his eyes before the girl's beauty.
+
+“So you recollect me, Helen, do you?” he said, in a low voice.
+
+“Recollect you?” was the answer. “Why, you dear, foolish boy, of
+course I recollect you. But how in the world do you come to be
+here?”
+
+“I came here to see you, Helen.”
+
+“To see me?” exclaimed she. “But pray how--” and then she stopped,
+and a look of delight swept across her face. “You mean that you knew
+I would come here the first thing?”
+
+“I do indeed.”
+
+“Why, that was beautiful!” she exclaimed. “I am so glad I did come.”
+
+The glance which she gave made his heart leap up; for a moment or
+two they were silent, looking at each other, and then suddenly
+another thought struck the girl. “Arthur,” she cried, “I forgot! Do
+you mean to tell me that you have come all the way from Hilltown?”
+
+“Yes, Helen.”
+
+“And just to see me?”
+
+“Yes, Helen.”
+
+“And this morning?”
+
+She received the same answer again. “It is twelve miles,” she
+exclaimed; “who ever heard of such a thing? You must be tired to
+death.”
+
+She put out her hand, which he took tremblingly.
+
+“Let us go sit down on the bench,” she said, “and then we can talk
+about things. I am perfectly delighted that you came,” she added
+when she had seated herself, with the marigolds and the lily in her
+lap. “It will seem just like old times; just think how long ago it
+was that I saw you last, Arthur,--three whole years! And do you
+know, as I left the town I thought of you, and that I might find you
+here.”
+
+The young man's face flushed with pleasure.
+
+“But I'd forgotten you since!” went on the girl, eyeing him
+mischievously; “for oh, I was so happy, coming down the old, old
+path, and seeing all the old sights! Things haven't changed a bit,
+Arthur; the woods look exactly the same, and the bridge hasn't
+altered a mite since the days we used to sit on the edge and let our
+feet hang in. Do you remember that, Arthur?”
+
+“Perfectly,” was the answer.
+
+“And that was over a dozen years ago! How old are you now,
+Arthur,--twenty-one--no, twenty-two; and I am just nineteen. To-day
+is my birthday, you know!”
+
+“I had not forgotten it, Helen.”
+
+“You came to welcome me! And so did everything else. Do you know, I
+don't think I'd ever been so happy in my life as I was just now. For
+I thought the old trees greeted me, and the bridge, and the stream!
+And I'm sure that was the same bobolink! They don't have any
+bobolinks in Germany, and so that one was the first I have heard in
+three years. You heard him, didn't you, Arthur?”
+
+“I did--at first,” said Arthur.
+
+“And then you heard me, you wicked boy! You heard me come in here
+singing and talking to myself like a mad creature! I don't think I
+ever felt so like singing before; they make hard work out of singing
+and everything else in Germany, you know, so I never sang out of
+business hours; but I believe I could sing all day now, because I'm
+so happy.”
+
+“Go on,” said the other, seriously; “I could listen.”
+
+“No; I want to talk to you just now,” said Helen. “You should have
+kept yourself hidden and then you'd have heard all sorts of
+wonderful things that you'll never have another chance to hear. For
+I was just going to make a speech to the forest, and I think I
+should have kissed each one of the flowers. You might have put it
+all into a poem,--for oh, father tells me you're going to be a great
+poet!”
+
+“I'm going to try,” said Arthur, blushing.
+
+“Just think how romantic that would be!” the girl laughed; “and I
+could write your memoir and tell all I knew about you. Tell me about
+yourself, Arthur--I don't mean for the memoir, but because I want to
+know the news.”
+
+“There isn't any, Helen, except that I finished college last spring,
+as I wrote you, and I'm teaching school at Hilltown.”
+
+“And you like it?”
+
+“I hate it; but I have to keep alive, to try to be a poet. And that
+is the news about myself.”
+
+“Except,” added Helen, “that you walked twelve miles this glorious
+Saturday morning to welcome me home, which was beautiful. And of
+course you'll stay over Sunday, now you're here; I can invite you
+myself, you know, for I've come home to take the reins of
+government. You never saw such a sight in your life as my poor
+father has made of our house; he's got the parlor all full of those
+horrible theological works of his, just as if God had never made
+anything beautiful! And since I've been away that dreadful Mrs. Dale
+has gotten complete charge of the church, and she's one of those
+creatures that wouldn't allow you to burn a candle in the organ
+loft; and father never was of any use for quarreling about things.”
+ (Helen's father, the Reverend Austin Davis, was the rector of the
+little Episcopal church in the town of Oakdale just across the
+fields.) “I only arrived last night,” the girl prattled on, venting
+her happiness in that way instead of singing; “but I hunted up two
+tallow candles in the attic, and you shall see them in church
+to-morrow. If there's any complaint about the smell, I'll tell Mrs.
+Dale we ought to have incense, and she'll get so excited about that
+that I'll carry the candles by default. I'm going to institute other
+reforms also,--I'm going to make the choir sing in tune!”
+
+“If you will only sing as you were singing just now, nobody will
+hear the rest of the choir,” vowed the young man, who during her
+remarks had never taken his eyes off the girl's radiant face.
+
+Helen seemed not to notice it, for she had been arranging the
+marigolds; now she was drying them with her handkerchief before
+fastening them upon her dress.
+
+“You ought to learn to sing yourself,” she said while she bent her
+head down at that task. “Do you care for music any more than you
+used to?”
+
+“I think I shall care for it just as I did then,” was the answer,
+“whenever you sing it.”
+
+“Pooh!” said Helen, looking up from her marigolds; “the idea of a
+dumb poet anyway, a man who cannot sing his own songs! Don't you
+know that if you could sing and make yourself gloriously happy as I
+was just now, and as I mean to be some more, you could write poetry
+whenever you wish.”
+
+“I can believe that,” said Arthur.
+
+“Then why haven't you ever learned? Our English poets have all been
+ridiculous creatures about music, any how; I don't believe there was
+one in this century, except Browning, that really knew anything
+about it, and all their groaning and pining for inspiration was
+nothing in the world but a need of some music; I was reading the
+'Palace of Art' only the other day, and there was that 'lordly
+pleasure house' with all its modern improvements, and without a
+sound of music. Of course the poor soul had to go back to the
+suffering world, if it were only to hear a hand-organ again.”
+
+“That is certainly a novel theory,” admitted the young poet. “I
+shall come to you when I need inspiration.”
+
+“Come and bring me your songs,” added the girl, “and I will sing
+them to you. You can write me a poem about that brook, for one
+thing. I was thinking just as I came down the road that if I were a
+poet I should have beautiful things to say to that brook. Will you
+do it for me?”
+
+“I have already tried to write one,” said the young man,
+hesitatingly.
+
+“A song?” asked Helen.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Oh, good! And I shall make some music for it; will you tell it to
+me?”
+
+“When?”
+
+“Now, if you can remember it,” said Helen. “Can you?”
+
+“If you wish it,” said Arthur, simply; “I wrote it two or three
+months ago, when the country was different from now.”
+
+He fumbled in his pocket for some papers, and then in a low tone he
+read these words to the girl:
+
+AT MIDNIGHT
+
+  The burden of the winter
+    The year haa borne too long,
+  And oh, my heart is weary
+    For a springtime song!
+
+  The moonbeams shrink unwelcomed
+    From the frozen lake;
+  Of all the forest voices
+    There is but one awake
+
+  I seek thee, happy streamlet
+    That murmurest on thy way,
+  As a child in troubled slumber
+    Still dreaming of its play;
+
+  I ask thee where in thy journey
+    Thou seeest so fair a sight,
+  That thou hast joy and singing
+    All through the winter night.
+
+Helen was silent for a few moments, then she said, “I think that is
+beautiful, Arthur; but it is not what I want.”
+
+“Why not?” he asked.
+
+“I should have liked it when you wrote it, but now the spring has
+come, and we must be happy. You have heard the springtime song.”
+
+“Yes,” said Arthur, “and the streamlet has led me to the beautiful
+sight.”
+
+“It _is_ beautiful,” said Helen, gazing about her with that naive
+unconsciousness which “every wise man's son doth know” is one thing
+he may never trust in a woman. “It could not be more beautiful,” she
+added, “and you must write me something about it, instead of
+wandering around our pasture-pond on winter nights till your
+imagination turns it into a frozen lake.”
+
+The young poet put away his papers rather suddenly at that, and
+Helen, after gazing at him for a moment, and laughing to herself,
+sprang up from the seat.
+
+“Come!” she cried, “why are we sitting here, anyway, talking about
+all sorts of things, and forgetting the springtime altogether? I
+haven't been half as happy yet as I mean to be.”
+
+She seemed to have forgotten her friend's twelve mile walk; but he
+had forgotten it too, just as he soon forgot the rather wintry
+reception of his little song. It was not possible for him to remain
+dull very long in the presence of the girl's glowing energy; for
+once upon her feet, Helen's dancing mood seemed to come back to her,
+if indeed it had ever more than half left her. The brooklet struck
+up the measure again, and the wind shook the trees far above them,
+to tell that it was still awake, and the girl was the very spirit of
+the springtime once more.
+
+“Oh, Arthur,” she said as she led him down the path, “just think how
+happy I ought to be, to welcome all the old things after so long,
+and to find them all so beautiful; it is just as if the country had
+put on its finest dress to give me greeting, and I feel as if I were
+not half gay enough in return. Just think what this springtime is,
+how all over the country everything is growing and rejoicing; _that_
+is what I want you to put into the poem for me.”
+
+And so she led him on into the forest, carried on by joy herself,
+and taking all things into her song. She did not notice that the
+young man's forehead was flushed, or that his hand was burning when
+she took it in hers as they walked; if she noticed it, she chose at
+any rate to pretend not to. She sang to him about the forest and the
+flowers, and some more of the merry song which she had sung before;
+then she stopped to shake her head at a saucy adder's tongue that
+thrust its yellow face up through the dead leaves at her feet, and
+to ask that wisest-looking of all flowers what secrets it knew about
+the spring-time. Later on they came to a place where the brook fled
+faster, sparkling brightly in the sunlight over its shallow bed of
+pebbles; it was only her runaway caroling that could keep pace with
+that, and so her glee mounted higher, the young man at her side half
+in a trance, watching her laughing face and drinking in the sound of
+her voice.
+
+How long that might have lasted there is no telling, had it not been
+that the woods came to an end, disclosing more open fields and a
+village beyond. “We'd better not go any farther,” said Helen,
+laughing; “if any of the earth creatures should hear us carrying on
+they would not know it was 'Trunkenheit ohne Wein.'”
+
+She stretched out her hand to her companion, and led him to a seat
+upon a fallen log nearby. “Poor boy,” she said, “I forgot that you
+were supposed to be tired.”
+
+“It does not make any difference,” was the reply; “I hadn't thought
+of it.”
+
+“There's no need to walk farther,” said Helen, “for I've seen all
+that I wish to see. How dear this walk ought to be to us, Arthur!”
+
+“I do not know about you, Helen,” said the young man, “but it has
+been dear to me indeed. I could not tell you how many times I have
+walked over it, all alone, since you left; and I used to think about
+the many times I had walked it with you. You haven't forgotten,
+Helen, have you?”
+
+“No,” said Helen.
+
+“Not one?”
+
+“Not one.”
+
+The young man was resting his head upon his hand and gazing steadily
+at the girl.
+
+“Do you remember, Helen--?” He stopped; and she turned with her
+bright clear eyes and gazed into his.
+
+“Remember what?” she asked.
+
+“Do you remember the last time we took it, Helen?”
+
+She flushed a trifle, and half involuntarily turned her glance away
+again.
+
+“Do you remember?” he asked again, seeing that she was silent.
+
+“Yes, I remember,” said the girl, her voice lower--“But I'd rather
+you did not--.” She stopped short.
+
+“You wish to forget it, Helen?” asked Arthur.
+
+He was trembling with anxiety, and his hands, which were clasped
+about his knee, were twitching. “Oh, Helen, how can you?” he went
+on, his voice breaking. “Do you not remember the last night that we
+sat there by the spring, and you were going away, no one knew for
+how long--and how you told me that it was more than you could bear;
+and the promise that you made me? Oh, Helen!”
+
+The girl gazed at him with a frightened look; he had sunk down upon
+his knee before her, and he caught her hand which lay upon the log
+at her side.
+
+“Helen!” he cried, “you cannot mean to forget that? For that promise
+has been the one joy of my life, that for which I have labored so
+hard! My one hope, Helen! I came to-day to claim it, to tell you--”
+
+And with a wild glance about her, the girl sprang to her feet,
+snatching her hand away from his.
+
+“Arthur!” she cried; “Arthur, you must not speak to me so!”
+
+“I must not, Helen?”
+
+“No, no,” she cried, trembling; “we were only children, and we did
+not know the meaning of the words we used. You must not talk to me
+that way, Arthur.”
+
+“Helen!” he protested, helplessly.
+
+“No, no, I will not allow it!” she cried more vehemently, stepping
+back as he started towards her, and holding close to her the hand he
+had held. “I had no idea there was such a thought in your mind--”
+
+Helen stopped, breathlessly.
+
+“--or you would not have been so kind to me?” the other added
+faintly.
+
+“I thought of you as an old friend,” said Helen. “I was but a child
+when I went away. I wish you still to be a friend, Arthur; but you
+must not act in that way.”
+
+The young man glanced once at her, and when he saw the stern look
+upon her face he buried his head in his arms without a sound.
+
+For fully a minute they remained thus, in silence; then as Helen
+watched him, her chest ceased gradually to heave, and a gentler look
+returned to her face. She came and sat down on the log again.
+
+“Arthur,” she said after another silence, “can we not just be
+friends?”
+
+The young man answered nothing, but he raised his head and gazed at
+her; and she saw that there were tears in his eyes, and a look of
+mute helplessness upon his face. She trembled slightly, and rose to
+her feet again.
+
+“Arthur,” she said gravely, “this must not be; we must not sit here
+any longer. I must go.”
+
+“Helen!” exclaimed the other, springing up.
+
+But he saw her brow knit again, and he stopped short. The girl gazed
+about her, and the village in the distance caught her eye.
+
+“Listen,” she said, with forced calmness; “I promised father that I
+would go and see old Mrs. Woodward, who was asking for me. You may
+wait here, if you like, and walk home with me, for I shall not be
+gone very long. Will you do it?”
+
+The other gazed at her for a moment or two; he was trying to read
+the girl's heart, but he saw only the quiet firmness of her
+features.
+
+“Will you wait, Arthur?” she asked again.
+
+And Arthur's head sank upon his breast. “Yes, Helen,” he said. When
+he lifted it again, the girl was gone; she had disappeared in the
+thicket, and he could hear her footsteps as she passed swiftly down
+the hillside.
+
+He went to the edge of the woods, where he could see her a short
+distance below, hurrying down the path with a step as light and free
+as ever. The wind had met her at the forest's edge and joined her
+once more, playing about her skirts and tossing the lily again. As
+Arthur watched her, the old music came back into his heart; his eyes
+sparkled, and all his soul seemed to be dancing in time with her
+light motion. Thus it went until she came to a place where the path
+must hide her from his view. The young man held his breath, and when
+she turned a cry of joy escaped him; she saw him and waved her hand
+to him gaily as she swept on out of his sight.
+
+For a moment afterwards he stood rooted to the spot, then whirled
+about and laughed aloud. He put his hand to his forehead, which was
+flushed and hot, and he gazed about him, as if he were not sure
+where he was. “Oh, she is so beautiful!” he cried, his face a
+picture of rapture. “So beautiful!”
+
+And he started through the forest as wildly as any madman, now
+muttering to himself and now laughing aloud and making the forest
+echo with Helen's name. When he stopped again he was far away from
+the path, in a desolate spot, but tho he was staring around him, he
+saw no more than before. Trembling had seized his limbs, and he sank
+down upon the yellow forest leaves, hiding his face in his hands and
+whispering, “Oh, if I should lose her! If I should lose her!” As old
+Polonius has it, truly it was “the very ecstasy of love.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+“A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.”
+
+The town of Oakdale is at the present time a flourishing place,
+inhabited principally by “suburbanites,” for it lies not very far
+from New York; but the Reverend Austin Davis, who was the spiritual
+guardian of most of them, had come to Oakdale some twenty and more
+years ago, when it was only a little village, with a struggling
+church which it was the task of the young clergyman to keep alive.
+Perhaps the growth of the town had as much to do with his success as
+his own efforts; but however that might have been he had received
+his temporal reward some ten years later, in the shape of a fine
+stone church, with a little parsonage beside it. He had lived there
+ever since, alone with his one child,--for just after coming to
+Oakdale he had married a daughter of one of the wealthy families of
+the neighborhood, and been left a widower a year or two later.
+
+A more unromantic and thoroughly busy man than Mr. Davis at the age
+of forty-five, when this story begins, it would not have been easy
+to find; but nevertheless people spoke of no less than two romances
+that had been connected with his life. One of them had been his
+early marriage, which had created a mild sensation, while the other
+had come into his life even sooner, in fact on the very first day of
+his arrival at Oakdale.
+
+Mr. Davis could still bring back to his mind with perfect clearness
+the first night he had spent in the little wooden cottage which he
+had hired for his residence; how while busily unpacking his trunk
+and trying to bring the disordered place into shape, he had opened
+the door in answer to a knock and beheld a woman stagger in out of
+the storm. She was a young girl, surely not yet out of her teens,
+her pale and sunken face showing marks of refinement and of former
+beauty. She carried in her arms a child of about a year's age, and
+she dropped it upon the sofa and sank down beside it, half fainting
+from exhaustion. The young clergyman's anxious inquiries having
+succeeded in eliciting but incoherent replies, he had left the room
+to procure some nourishment for the exhausted woman; it was upon his
+return that the discovery of the romance alluded to was made, for
+the woman had disappeared in the darkness and storm, and the baby
+was still lying upon the sofa.
+
+It was not altogether a pleasant romance, as is probably the case
+with a good many romances in reality. Mr. Davis was destined to
+retain for a long time a vivid recollection of the first night which
+he spent in alternately feeding that baby with a spoon, and in
+walking the floor with it; and also to remember the sly glances
+which his parishioners only half hid from him when his unpleasant
+plight was made known.
+
+It happened that the poorhouse at Hilltown near by, to which the
+infant would have gone if he had left it to the care of the county,
+was at that time being “investigated,” with all that the name
+implies when referring to public matters; the clergy of the
+neighborhood being active in pushing the charges, Mr. Davis felt
+that at present it would look best for him to provide for the child
+himself. As the investigation came to nothing, the inducement was
+made a permanent one; perhaps also the memory of the mother's wan
+face had something to do with the matter. At any rate the young
+clergyman, tho but scantily provided for himself, managed to spare
+enough to engage a woman in the town to take care of the young
+charge. Subsequently when Mr. Davis' wife died the woman became
+Helen's nurse, and so it was that Arthur, as the baby boy had been
+christened, became permanently adopted into the clergyman's little
+family.
+
+It had not been possible to keep from Arthur the secret of his
+parentage, and the fact that it was known to all served to keep him
+aloof from the other children of the town, and to drive him still
+more to the confidence of Helen. One of the phrases which Mr. Davis
+had caught from the mother's lips had been that the boy was a
+“gentleman's son;” and Helen was wont to solace him by that
+reminder. Perhaps the phrase, constantly repeated, had much to do
+with the proud sensitiveness and the resolute independence which
+soon manifested itself in the lad's character. He had scarcely
+passed the age of twelve before, tho treated by Mr. Davis with the
+love and kindness of a father, he astonished the good man by
+declaring that he was old enough to take care of himself; and tho
+Mr. Davis was better situated financially by that time, nothing that
+he could say could alter the boy's quiet determination to leave
+school and be independent, a resolution in which he was seconded by
+Helen, a little miss of some nine years. The two children had talked
+it over for months, as it appeared, and concluded that it was best
+to sacrifice in the cause of honor the privilege of going to school
+together, and of spending the long holidays roaming about the
+country.
+
+So the lad had served with childish dignity, first as an errand boy,
+and then as a store clerk, always contributing his mite of “board”
+ to Mr. Davis' household expenses; meanwhile, possibly because he was
+really “a gentleman's son,” and had inherited a taste for study, he
+had made by himself about as much progress as if he had been at
+school. Some years later, to the delight of Helen and Mr. Davis, he
+had carried off a prize scholarship above the heads of the graduates
+of the Hilltown High School, and still refusing all help, had gone
+away to college, to support himself there while studying by such
+work as he could find, knowing well that a true gentleman's son is
+ashamed of nothing honest.
+
+He spent his vacations at home, where he and Helen studied
+together,--or such rather had been his hope; it was realized only
+for the first year.
+
+Helen had an aunt upon her mother's side, a woman of wealth and
+social position, who owned a large country home near Oakdale, and
+who was by no means inclined to view with the complacency of Mr.
+Davis the idyllic friendship of the two young people. Mrs. Roberts,
+or “Aunt Polly” as she was known to the family, had plans of her own
+concerning the future of the beauty which she saw unfolding itself
+at the Oakdale parsonage. She said nothing to Mr. Davis, for he,
+being busy with theological works and charitable organizations, was
+not considered a man from whom one might hope for proper ideas about
+life. But with her own more practical husband she had frequently
+discussed the danger, and the possible methods of warding it off.
+
+To send Helen to a boarding school would have been of no use, for
+the vacations were the times of danger; so it was that the trip
+abroad was finally decided upon. Aunt Polly, having traveled
+herself, had a wholesome regard for German culture, believing that
+music and things of that sort were paying investments. It chanced,
+also, that her own eldest daughter, who was a year older than Helen,
+was about through with all that American teachers had to impart; and
+so after much argument with Mr. Davis, it was finally arranged that
+she and Helen should study in Germany together. Just when poor
+Arthur was returning home with the sublime title of junior, his
+dream of all things divine was carried off by Aunt Polly, and after
+a summer spent in “doing” Europe, was installed in a girl's school
+in Leipzig.
+
+And now, three years having passed, Helen has left her cousin for
+another year of travel, and returned home in all the glory of her
+own springtime and of Nature's; which brings us to where we left
+her, hurrying away to pay a duty call in the little settlement on
+the hillside.
+
+The visit had not been entirely a subterfuge, for Helen's father had
+mentioned to her that the elderly person whom she had named to
+Arthur was expecting to see her when she returned, and Helen had
+been troubled by the thought that she would never have any peace
+until she had paid that visit. It was by no means an agreeable one,
+for old Mrs. Woodward was exceedingly dull, and Helen felt that she
+was called upon to make war upon dullness. However, it had occurred
+to her to get her task out of the way at once, while she felt that
+she ought to leave Arthur.
+
+The visit proved to be quite as depressing as she had expected, for
+it is sad to have to record that Helen, however sensitive to the
+streamlet and the flowers, had not the least sympathy in the world
+for an old woman who had a very sharp chin, who stared at one
+through two pairs of spectacles, and whose conversation was about
+her own health and the dampness of the springtime, besides the
+dreariest gossip about Oakdale's least interesting people. Perhaps
+it might have occurred to the girl that it is very forlorn to have
+nothing else to talk about, and that even old Mrs. Woodward might
+have liked to hear about some of the things in the forest, or to
+have been offered the lily and the marigold. Unfortunately, however,
+Helen did not think about any of that, but only moved restlessly
+about in her chair and gazed around the ugly room. Finally when she
+could stand it no more, she sprang up between two of Mrs. Woodward's
+longest sentences and remarked that it was very late and a long way
+home, and that she would come again some time.
+
+Then at last when she was out in the open air, she drew a deep
+breath and fled away to the woods, wondering what could be God's
+reason for such things. It was not until she was half way up the
+hillside that she could feel that the wind, which blew now upon her
+forehead, had quite swept away the depression which had settled upon
+her. She drank in the odors which blew from the woods, and began
+singing to herself again, and looking out for Arthur.
+
+She was rather surprised not to see him at once, and still more
+surprised when she came nearer and raised her voice to call him; for
+she reached the forest and came to the place where she had left him
+without a reply having come. She shouted his name again and again,
+until at last, not without a half secret chagrin to have been so
+quickly forgotten, she was obliged to set out for home alone.
+
+“Perhaps he's gone on ahead,” she thought, quickening her pace.
+
+For a time she watched anxiously, expecting to see his darkly clad
+figure; but she soon wearied of continued failure, and because it
+was her birthday, and because the brook was still at her side and
+the beautiful forest still about her, she took to singing again, and
+was quickly as happy and glorious as before, ceasing her caroling
+and moderating her woodland pace only when she neared the town. She
+passed down the main street of Oakdale, not quite without an
+exulting consciousness that her walk had crowned her beauty and that
+no one whom she saw was thinking about anything else; and so she
+came to her home, to the dear old parsonage, with its spreading ivy
+vines, and its two great elms.
+
+When she had hurried up the steps and shut the door behind her,
+Helen felt privileged again to be just as merry as she chose, for
+she was even more at home here than in the woods; it seemed as if
+everything were stretching out its arms to her to welcome her, and
+to invite her to carry out her declared purpose of taking the reins
+of government in her own hands.
+
+Upon one side of the hallway was a parlor, and on the other side two
+rooms, which Mr. Davis had used as a reception room and a study. The
+parlor had never been opened, and Helen promised herself a jolly
+time superintending the fixing up of that; on the other side she had
+already taken possession of the front room, symbolically at any
+rate, by having her piano moved in and her music unpacked, and a
+case emptied for the books she had brought from Germany. To be sure,
+on the other side was still a dreary wall of theological treatises
+in funereal black, but Helen was not without hopes that continued
+doses of cheerfulness might cure her father of such incomprehensible
+habits, and obtain for her the permission to move the books to the
+attic.
+
+To start things in that direction the girl now danced gaily into the
+study where her father was in the act of writing “thirdly,
+brethren,” for his next day's sermon; and crying out merrily,
+
+  “Up, up my friend, and quit your books,
+  Or surely you'll grow double!”
+
+she saluted her reverend father with the sweetest of kisses, and
+then seated herself on the arm of his chair and gravely took his pen
+out of his hand, and closed his inkstand. She turned over the
+“thirdly, brethren,” without blotting it, and recited solemnly:
+
+  “One impulse from a vernal wood
+    May teach you more of man,
+  Of moral evil and of good.
+    Than all the sages can!”
+
+And then she laughed the merriest of merry laughs and added, “Daddy,
+dear, I am an impulse! And I want you to spare some time for me.”
+
+“Yes, my love,” said Mr. Davis, smiling upon her, though groaning
+inwardly for his lost ideas. “You are beautiful this morning, Helen.
+What have you been doing?”
+
+“I've had a glorious walk,” replied the girl, “and all kinds of
+wonderful adventures; I've had a dance with the morning wind, and a
+race of a mile or two with a brook, and I've sung duets with all the
+flowers,--and here you are writing uninteresting things!”
+
+“It's my sermon, Helen,” said Mr. Davis.
+
+“I know it,” said Helen, gravely.
+
+“But it must be done for to-morrow,” protested the other.
+
+“Half your congregation is going to be so excited about two tallow
+candles that it won't know what you preach about,” answered the
+girl, swinging herself on the arm of the chair; “and I'm going to
+sing for the other half, and so they won't care either. And besides,
+Daddy, I've got news to tell you; you've no idea what a good girl
+I've been.”
+
+“How, my love?”
+
+“I went to see Mrs. Woodward.”
+
+“You didn't!”
+
+“Yes; and it was just to show you how dutiful I'm going to be.
+Daddy, I felt so sorry for the poor old lady; it is so beautiful to
+know that one is doing good and bringing happiness into other
+people's lives! I think I'll go and see her often, and carry her
+something nice if you'll let me.”
+
+Helen said all that as gravely as a judge; but Mr. Davis was
+agreeing so delightedly that she feared she was carrying the joke
+too far. She changed the subject quickly.
+
+“Oh, Daddy!” she cried, “I forgot to tell you--I met a genius
+to-day!”
+
+“A genius?” inquired the other.
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, “and I've been walking around with him all
+morning out in the woods! Did you never hear that every place like
+that has a genius?”
+
+“Yes,” assented Mr. Davis, “but I don't understand your joke.”
+
+“This was the genius of Hilltown High School,” laughed Helen.
+
+“Oh, Arthur!”
+
+“Yes; will you believe it, the dear boy had walked all the way from
+there to see me; and he waited out by the old seat at the spring!”
+
+“But where is he now?”
+
+“I don't know,” said Helen. “It's very queer; I left him to go see
+Mrs. Woodward. He didn't go with me,” she added, “I don't believe he
+felt inclined to charity.”
+
+“That is not like Arthur,” said the other.
+
+“I'm going to take him in hand, as becomes a clergyman's daughter,”
+ said Helen demurely; “I'm going to be a model daughter, Daddy--just
+you wait and see! I'll visit all your parishioners' lawn-parties
+and five o'clock teas for you, and I'll play Handel's Largo and
+Siegfried's Funeral March whenever you want to write sermons. Won't
+you like that?”
+
+“Perhaps,” said Mr. Davis, dubiously.
+
+“Only I know you'll make blots when I come to the cymbals,” said
+Helen; and she doubled up her fists and hummed the passage, and gave
+so realistic an imitation of the cymbal-clashes in the great dirge
+that it almost upset the chair. Afterwards she laughed one of her
+merriest laughs and kissed her father on the forehead.
+
+“I heard it at Baireuth,” she said, “and it was just fine! It made
+your flesh creep all over you. And oh, Daddy, I brought home a
+souvenir of Wagner's grave!”
+
+“Did you?” asked Mr. Davis, who knew very little about Wagner.
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, “just a pebble I picked up near it; and you ought
+to have seen the custom-house officer at the dock yesterday when he
+was going through my trunks. 'What's this, Miss?' he asked; I guess
+he thought it was a diamond in the rough. 'Oh, that's from Wagner's
+grave,' I said. And what do you think the wretch did?”
+
+“I'm sure I don't know, my love.”
+
+“He threw it back, saying it wasn't worth anything; I think he must
+have been a Brahmsite.”
+
+“It took the longest time going through all my treasures,” Helen
+prattled on, after laughing at her own joke; “you know Aunt Polly
+let us have everything we wanted, bless her heart!”
+
+“I'm afraid Aunt Polly must have spoiled you,” said the other.
+
+“She has,” laughed Helen; “I really think she must mean to make me
+marry a rich husband, or else she'd never have left me at that great
+rich school; Lucy and I were the 'star-boarders' you know, and we
+just had everybody to spoil us. How in the world could you ever
+manage to spare so much money, Daddy?”
+
+“Oh, it was not so much,” said Mr. Davis; “things are cheaper
+abroad.” (As a matter of fact, the grimly resolute Aunt Polly had
+paid two-thirds of her niece's expenses secretly, besides
+distributing pocket money with lavish generosity.)
+
+“And you should see the wonderful dresses I've brought from Paris,”
+ Helen went on. “Oh, Daddy, I tell you I shall be glorious! Aunt
+Polly's going to invite a lot of people at her house next week to
+meet me, and I'm going to wear the reddest of red, red dresses, and
+just shine like a lighthouse!”
+
+“I'm afraid,” said the clergyman, surveying her with more pride than
+was perhaps orthodox, “I'm afraid you'll find it hard to be
+satisfied in this poor little home of ours.”
+
+“Oh, that's all right,” said Helen; “I'll soon get used to it; and
+besides, I've got plenty of things to fix it up with--if you'll only
+get those dreadful theological works out of the front room! Daddy
+dear, you can't imagine how hard it is to bring the Valkyries and
+Niebelungs into a theological library.”
+
+“I'll see what I can do, my love,” said Mr. Davis.
+
+He was silent for a few moments, perhaps wondering vaguely whether
+it was well that this commanding young lady should have everything
+in the world she desired; Helen, who had her share of penetration,
+probably divined the thought, for she made haste to change the
+subject.
+
+“By the way,” she laughed, “we got so interested in our chattering
+that we forgot all about Arthur.”
+
+“Sure enough,” exclaimed the other. “Pray where can he have gone?”
+
+“I don't know,” Helen said; “it's strange. But poets are such queer
+creatures!”
+
+“Arthur is a very splendid creature,” said Mr. Davis. “You have no
+idea, Helen, how hard he has labored since you have been away. He
+carried off all the honors at college, and they say he has written
+some good poetry. I don't know much about that, but the people who
+know tell me so.”
+
+“It would be gloriously romantic to know a great poet,” said Helen,
+“and perhaps have him write poetry about you,--'Helen, thy beauty is
+to me,' and 'Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss,' and all
+sorts of things like that! He's coming to live with us this summer
+as usual, isn't he, Daddy?”
+
+“I don't know,” said the other; “I presume he will. But where can he
+have gone to-day?”
+
+“He acted very queerly,” said the girl; and then suddenly a
+delighted smile lit up her face. “Oh, Daddy,” she added, “do you
+know, I think Arthur is in love!”
+
+“In love!” gasped Mr. Davis.
+
+“Yes, in love!”
+
+“Pray, with whom?”
+
+“I'm sure I can't imagine,” said Helen gravely; “but he seemed so
+abstracted, and he seemed to have something to tell me. And then he
+ran away!”
+
+“That is very strange indeed,” remarked the other. “I shall have to
+speak to him about it.”
+
+“If he doesn't come back soon, I'll go to look for him,” said the
+girl; “I'm not going to let the water nixies run off with my Arthur;
+there are such things in that stream, because the song I was singing
+about it says so.” And then she chanted as merrily as ever:
+
+  “Why speak I of a murmur?
+    No murmur can it be;
+  The Nixies they are singing
+    'Neath the wave their melody!”
+
+“I will tell you what,” said Mr. Davis, rising from his chair as he
+realized that the sermon had entirely vanished for the present. “You
+may go part of the way with me, and we'll stop in to see the Vails.”
+
+“The Vails!” gasped Helen. (Mr. Vail was the village dairyman, whose
+farm lay on the outskirts of the town; the village dairyman's family
+was not one that Helen cared to visit.)
+
+“My love,” said Mr. Davis, “poor Mrs. Vail has been very ill, and
+she has three little children, you know. You told me that you liked
+to bring joy wherever you could.”
+
+“Yes, but, Daddy,” protested Helen, “_those_ children are _dirty!_
+Ugh! I saw them as I came by.”
+
+“My love,” answered the other, “they are God's children none the
+less; and we cannot always help such things.”
+
+“But we _can_, Daddy; there is plenty of water in the world.”
+
+“Yes, of course; but when the mother is ill, and the father in
+trouble! For poor Mr. Vail has had no end of misfortune; he has no
+resource but the little dairy, and three of his cows have been ill
+this spring.”
+
+And Helen's incorrigible mirth lighted up her face again. “Oh!” she
+cried. “Is _that_ it! I saw him struggling away at the pump as I
+came by; but I had no idea it was anything so serious!”
+
+Mr. Davis looked grieved; Helen, when her first burst of glee had
+passed, noticed it and changed her mood. She put her arms around her
+father's neck and pressed her cheek against his.
+
+“Daddy, dear,” she said coaxingly, “haven't I done charity enough
+for one day? You will surfeit me at the start, and then I'll be just
+as little fond of it as I was before. When I must let dirty children
+climb all over me, I can dress for the occasion.”
+
+“My dear,” pleaded Mr. Davis, “Godliness is placed before
+Cleanliness.”
+
+“Yes,” admitted Helen, “and of course it is right for you to
+inculcate the greater virtue; but I'm only a girl, and you mustn't
+expect sublimity from me. You don't want to turn me into a president
+of sewing societies, like that dreadful Mrs. Dale!”
+
+“Helen,” protested the other, helplessly, “I wish you would not
+always refer to Mrs. Dale with that adjective; she is the best
+helper I have.”
+
+“Yes, Daddy,” said Helen, with the utmost solemnity; “when I have a
+dreadful eagle nose like hers, perhaps I can preside over meetings
+too. But I can't now.”
+
+“I do not want you to, my love; but--”
+
+“And if I have to cling by the weaker virtue of cleanliness just for
+a little while, Daddy, you must not mind. I'll visit all your clean
+parishioners for you,--parishioners like Aunt Polly!”
+
+And before Mr. Davis could make another remark, the girl had skipped
+into the other room to the piano; as her father went slowly out the
+door, the echoes of the old house were laughing with the happy
+melody of Purcell's--
+
+  Nymphs and shepherds, come a-way, come a-way,
+  Nymphs and shepherds, come a-way, come a-way, Come,
+  come, come, come a-way!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+  “For you alone I strive to sing,
+    Oh, tell me how to woo!”
+
+When Helen was left alone, she seated herself before her old music
+stand which had been brought down to welcome her, and proceeded to
+glance over and arrange the pieces she had learned and loved in her
+young girlhood. Most of them made her smile, and when she reflected
+upon how difficult she used to think them, she realized that now
+that it was over she was glad for the German regime. Helen had
+accounted herself an accomplished pianist when she went away, but
+she had met with new standards and learned to think humbly of
+herself in the great home of music. She possessed a genuine fondness
+for the art, however, and had devoted most of her three years to it,
+so that she came home rejoicing in the possession of a technic that
+was quite a mastership compared with any that she was likely to
+meet.
+
+Helen's thoughts did not dwell upon that very long at present,
+however; she found herself thinking again about Arthur, and the
+unexpected ending of her walk with him.
+
+“I had no idea he felt that way toward me,” she mused, resting her
+chin in her hand; “what in the world am I going to do? Men are
+certainly most inconvenient creatures; I thought I was doing
+everything in the world to make him happy!”
+
+Helen turned to the music once more, but the memory of the figure
+she had left sunken helplessly upon the forest seat stayed in her
+mind. “I do wonder if that can be why he did not wait for me,” she
+thought, shuddering,--“if he was too wretched to see me again; what
+CAN I do?” She got up and began walking restlessly up and down the
+room for a few minutes.
+
+“Perhaps I ought to go and look for him,” she mused; “it was an hour
+or two ago that I left him there;” and Helen, after thinking the
+matter over, had half turned to leave, when she heard a step outside
+and saw the door open quickly. Even before she saw him she knew who
+it was, for only Arthur would have entered without ringing the bell.
+After having pictured him overcome by despair, it was rather a blow
+to her pride to see him, for he entered flushed, and seemingly
+elated.
+
+“Well, sir, you've treated me nicely!” she exclaimed, showing her
+vexation in spite of herself.
+
+“You will forgive me,” said Arthur, smiling.
+
+“Don't be too sure of it,” Helen said; “I looked for you everywhere,
+and I am quite angry.”
+
+“I was obeying your high command,” the other replied, still smiling.
+
+“My command? I told you to wait for me.”
+
+“You told me something else,” laughed Arthur. “You spent all the
+morning instructing me for it, you know.”
+
+“Oh!” said Helen. It was a broad and very much prolonged “Oh,” for a
+sudden light was dawning upon the girl; as it came her frown gave
+place to a look of delight.
+
+“You have been writing me a poem!” she cried, eagerly.
+
+“Yes,” said Arthur.
+
+“Oh, you dear boy!” Helen laughed. “Then I do forgive you; but you
+ought to have told me, for I had to walk home all alone, and I've
+been worrying about you. I never once thought of the poem.”
+
+“The muses call without warning,” laughed Arthur, “and one has to
+obey them, you know.”
+
+“Oh, oh!” exclaimed the other. “And so you've been wandering around
+the woods all this time, making verses! And you've been waving your
+arms and talking to yourself, and doing all sorts of crazy things, I
+know!” Then as she saw Arthur flush, she went on: “I was sure of it!
+And you ran away so that I wouldn't see you! Oh, I wish I'd known;
+I'd have hunted you up and never come home until I'd found you.”
+
+As was usual with Helen, her momentary vexation had gone like April
+rain, and all her seriousness had vanished with it. She forgot all
+about the last scene in the woods, and Arthur was once more the
+friend of her girlhood, whom she might take by the hand when she
+chose, and with whom she might be as free and happy as when she was
+alone with the flowers and the wind. It seemed as if Arthur too had
+vented all his pent up emotion, and returned to his natural cheerful
+self.
+
+“Tell me,” she cried, “did you put in all the things I told you
+about?”
+
+“I put all I could,” said Arthur. “That is a great deal to ask.”
+
+“I only want it to be full of life,” laughed Helen. “That's all I
+care about; the man who wants to write springtime poetry for me must
+be wide awake!”
+
+“Shall I read it to you?” asked Arthur, hesitatingly.
+
+“Yes, of course,” said Helen. “And read it as if you meant it; if I
+like it I'll tell you so.”
+
+“I wrote it for nothing but to please you” was the reply, and Arthur
+took a much bescrawled piece of paper from his pocket; the girl
+seated herself upon the piano stool again and gazed up at him as he
+rested his elbow upon the top of the piano and read his lines. There
+could not have been a situation in which the young poet would have
+read them with more complete happiness, and so it was a pleasure to
+watch him. And Helen's eyes kindled, and her cheeks flushed brightly
+as she listened, for she found that the verses had taken their
+imagery from her very lips.
+
+  In the May-time's golden glory
+    Ere the quivering sun was high,
+  I heard the Wind of Morning
+    Through the laughing meadows fly;
+
+  In his passion-song was throbbing
+    All the madness of the May,
+  And he whispered: Thou hast labored;
+    Thou art weary; come away!
+
+  Thou shalt drink a fiery potion
+    For thy prisoned spirit's pain;
+  Thou shalt taste the ancient rapture
+    That thy soul has sought in vain.
+
+  I will tell thee of a maiden,
+    One who has thy longing fanned--
+  Spirit of the Forest Music--
+    Thou shalt take her by the hand,
+
+  Lightly by her rosy fingers
+    Trembling with her keen delight,
+  And her flying steps shall lead thee
+    Out upon the mountain's height;
+
+  To a dance undreamed of mortal
+    To the Bacchanal of Spring,--
+  Where in mystic joy united
+    Nature's bright-eyed creatures sing.
+
+  There the green things of the mountain,
+    Million-voiced, newly-born,
+  And the flowers of the valley
+    In their beauty's crimson morn;
+
+  There the winged winds of morning,
+    Spirits unresting, touched with fire,
+  And the streamlets, silver-throated,
+    They whose leaping steps ne'er tire!
+
+  Thou shalt see them, ever circling
+    Round about a rocky spring,
+  While the gaunt old forest-warriors
+    Madly their wide branches fling.
+
+  Thou shalt tread the whirling measure,
+    Bathe thee in its frenzied strife;
+  Thou shalt have a mighty memory
+    For thy spirit's after life.
+
+  Haste thee while thy heart is burning,
+    While thine eyes have strength to see;
+  Hark, behind yon blackening cloud-bank,
+    To the Storm-King's minstrelsy!
+
+  See, he stamps upon the mountains,
+    And he leaps the valleys high!
+  Now he smites his forest harp-strings,
+    And he sounds his thunder-cry:--
+
+  Waken, lift ye up, ye creatures,
+    Sing the song, each living thing!
+  Join ye in the mighty passion
+    Of the Symphony of Spring!
+
+And so the young poet finished, his cheeks fairly on fire, and, as
+he gazed down at Helen, his hand trembling so that he could hardly
+hold the paper. One glance told him that she was pleased, for the
+girl's face was flushed like his own, and her eyes were sparkling
+with delight. Arthur's heart gave a great throb within him.
+
+“You like it!” he exclaimed.
+
+“Oh, Arthur, I do!” she cried. “Oh, how glorious you must have
+been!” And trembling with girlish delight, she took the paper from
+his hand and placed it in front of her on the music rack.
+
+“Oh, I should like to write music for it!” she exclaimed; “for those
+lines about the Storm-King!”
+
+And she read them aloud, clenching her hands and shaking her head,
+carried away by the image they brought before her eyes. “Oh, I
+should like music for it!” she cried again.
+
+“I don't know very much about poetry, you know,” she added, laughing
+excitedly. “If it's about the things I like, I can't help thinking
+it's fine. It's just the same with music,--if a man only makes it
+swift and strong, so that it leaps and flies and never tires, that
+is all I care about; and if he just keeps his trombones till the
+very last, he can carry me off my feet though he makes the worst
+noise that ever was! It's the same as a storm, you know, Arthur; do
+you remember how we used to go up on our hillside when the great
+wind was coming, and when everything was growing still and black;
+and how we used to watch the big clouds and the sheets of rain, and
+run for home when we heard the thunder? Once when you were away,
+Arthur, I didn't run, for I wanted to see what it was like; and I
+stayed up there and saw it all, singing the 'Ride of the Valkyries,'
+and pretending I was one of them and could gallop with the wind. For
+the wind is fine, Arthur! It fills you so full of its power that you
+stretch out your arms to it, and it makes you sing; and it comes,
+and it comes again, stronger than ever, and it sweeps you on, just
+like a great mass of music. And then it howls through the trees and
+it flies over the valleys,--that was what you were thinking of,
+weren't you, Arthur?”
+
+And Helen stopped, breathlessly, and gazed at him; her cheeks were
+flushed, and her hands still tightly clasped.
+
+“Yes,” said Arthur, half mechanically, for he had lost himself in
+the girl's enthusiasm, and felt the storm of his verses once more.
+
+“Your poem made me think of that one time that was so gloriously,”
+ Helen went on. “For the rain was almost blinding, and I was
+drenched, but I did not even know it. For oh, the thunder! Arthur,
+you've no idea what thunder is like till you're near it! There fell
+one fearful bolt quite near me, a great white, living thing, as
+thick as a man's body, and the crash of it seemed to split the air.
+But oh, I didn't mind it a bit! 'Der Sanger triumphirt in Wettern!'
+I think I was a real Valkyrie that time, and I only wished that I
+might put it into music.”
+
+The girl turned to the piano, and half in play struck a great
+rumbling chord, that rolled and echoed through the room; she sounded
+it once more, laughing aloud with glee. Arthur had sunk down upon a
+chair beside her, and was bending forward, watching her with growing
+excitement. For again and again Helen struck the keys with all the
+power of her arms, until they seemed to give forth real storm and
+thunder; and as she went on with her reckless play the mood grew
+upon her, and she lost herself in the vision of the Storm-King
+sweeping through the sky. She poured out a great stream of his wild
+music, singing away to herself excitedly in the meantime. And as the
+rush continued and the fierce music swelled louder, the phantasy
+took hold of the girl and carried her beyond herself. She seemed to
+become the very demon of the storm, unbound and reckless; she smote
+the keys with right royal strength, and the piano seemed a thing of
+life beneath her touch. The pace became faster, and the thunder
+rattled and crashed more wildly, and there awoke in the girl's soul
+a power of musical utterance that she had never dreamed of in her
+life before. Her whole being was swept away in ecstasy; her lips
+were moving excitedly, and her pulses were leaping like mad. She
+seemed no longer to know of the young man beside her, who was bent
+forward with clenched hands, carried beyond himself by the sight of
+her exulting power.
+
+And in the meantime, Helen's music was surging on, building itself
+up into a great climax that swelled and soared and burst in a
+deafening thunder crash; and while the air was still throbbing and
+echoing with it, the girl joined to it her deep voice, grown
+suddenly conscious of new power:
+
+  “See, he stamps upon the mountains,
+    And he leaps the valleys high!
+  Now he smites his forest harp-strings,
+    And he sounds his thunder cry!”
+
+And as the cry came the girl laughed aloud, like a very Valkyrie
+indeed, her laugh part of the music, and carried on by it; and then
+gradually as the tempest swept on, the rolling thunder was lost in a
+march that was the very tread of the Storm-King. And the march
+broadened, and the thunder died out of it slowly, and all the wild
+confusion, and then it rose, glorious and triumphant, and turned to
+a mighty pean, a mightier one than ever Helen could have made. The
+thought of it had come to her as an inspiration, and as a refuge,
+that the glory of her passion might not be lost. The march had led
+her to it, and now it had taken her in its arms and swept her away,
+as it had swept millions by its majesty. It was the great Ninth
+Symphony Hymn:
+
+  “Hail thee, Joy! From Heaven descending,
+    Daughter from Elysium!
+  Ecstasy our hearts inflaming,
+    To thy sacred shrine we come.
+  Thine enchantments bind together
+    Those whom custom's law divides;
+  All are brothers, all united,
+    Where thy gentle wing abides.”
+
+And Helen sang it as one possessed by it, as one made drunk with its
+glory--as the very Goddess of Joy that she was. For the Storm-King
+and his legions had fled, and another vision had come into her
+heart, a vision that every one ought to carry with him when the
+great symphony is to be heard. He should see the hall in Vienna
+where it was given for the last time in the great master's life, and
+see the great master himself, the bowed and broken figure that all
+musicians worship, standing up to conduct it; and see him leading it
+through all its wild surging passion, almost too frantic to be
+endured; and then, when the last towering climax has passed and the
+music has ceased and the multitude at his back has burst forth into
+its thundering shout, see the one pathetic figure standing there
+aloft before all eyes and still blindly beating the time. There must
+have been tears in the eyes of every man in that place to know the
+reason for it,--that he from whose heart all their joy had come, he
+who was lord and master of it, had never heard in his life and could
+never hope to hear one sound of that music he had written, but must
+dwell a prisoner in darkness and solitude forever.
+
+That was the picture before Helen's eyes; she did not think of the
+fearful tragedy of it--she had no feeling for tragedy, she knew no
+more about suffering than a child just born. But joy she knew, and
+joy she was; she was the multitude lifted up in its ecstasy,
+throbbing, burning and triumphant, and she sang the great choruses,
+one after another, and the piano beneath her fingers thundered and
+rang with the instrumental part. Surely in all music there is no
+utterance of joy so sustained and so overwhelming in its intensity
+as this; it is a frenzy almost more than man can stand; it is joy
+more than human--the joy of existence:--
+
+  “Pleasure every creature living
+    From kind Nature's breast receives;
+  Good and evil, all are seeking
+    For the rosy path she leaves.”
+
+And so the torrent of passionate exultation swept Helen onward with
+it until the very end, the last frantic prestissimo chorus, and then
+she sprang to her feet and flung up her hands with a cry. She stood
+thus for a moment, glowing with exultation, and then she sank down
+again and sat staring before her, the music still echoing through
+every fiber of her soul, and the shouting multitude still surging
+before her.
+
+For just how long that lasted, she knew not, but only that her wild
+mood was gradually subsiding, and that she felt herself sinking
+back, as a bird sinks after its flight; then suddenly she turned.
+Arthur was at her side, and she gave a cry, for he had seized her
+hand in his, and was covering it with burning kisses.
+
+“Arthur! Arthur!” she gasped.
+
+The young man gazed up at her, and Helen remembered the scene in the
+forest, and realized what she had done. She had shaken him to the
+very depths of his being by the emotion which she had flung loose
+before him, and he seemed beside himself at that moment, his hair
+disordered and his forehead hot and flushed. He made a move as if to
+clasp the girl in his arms, and Helen tore her hand loose by main
+force and sprang back to the doorway.
+
+“Arthur!” she cried. “What do you mean?”
+
+He clutched at a chair for support, and stood staring at her. For
+fully a minute they remained thus, Helen trembling with alarm; then
+his head sank, and he flung himself down upon the sofa, where he lay
+sobbing passionately. Helen remained gazing at him with wide open
+and astonished eyes.
+
+“Arthur!” she exclaimed again.
+
+But he did not hear her, for the cruel sobbing that shook his frame.
+Helen, as soon as her first alarm had passed, came softly nearer,
+till she stood by the sofa; but still he did not heed her, and she
+did not dare even to put her hand upon his shoulder. She was afraid
+of him, her dearest friend, and she knew not what to make of him.
+
+“Arthur,” she whispered again, when he was silent for a moment.
+“Please speak to me, Arthur.”
+
+The other gazed up at her with a look of such helpless despair and
+longing upon his face that Helen was frightened still more. He had
+been sobbing as if his heart would break, but his eyes were dry.
+
+“What is the matter?” she cried.
+
+The young man answered her hoarsely: “Can you not see what is the
+matter, Helen? I love you! And you drive me mad!”
+
+The girl turned very pale, and lowered her eyes before his burning
+gaze.
+
+“Helen,” the other went on impetuously, “you will break my heart if
+you treat me in this way. Do you not know that for three long years
+I have been dreaming of you, and of the promise that you gave me?
+You told me that you loved me, and that you always would love me!
+You told me that the night before you went away; and you kissed me.
+All this time I have been thinking of that kiss, and cherishing the
+memory of it, and waiting for you to return. I have labored for no
+other reason, I have had no other hope in the world; I have kept
+your image before me, and lived in it, and worshiped before it, and
+the thought of you has been all that I had. When I was tired and
+worn and ill I could only think of you and remember your promise,
+and count the days before your return. And, oh, it has been so long
+that I could not stand it! For weeks I have been so impatient, and
+so filled with the thought of the day when I might see you again
+that I have been helpless and half mad; for I thought that I should
+take your hand in mine and claim your promise. And this morning I
+wandered about the woods for hours, waiting for you to come. And see
+how you have treated me!”
+
+He buried his face in his hands again, and Helen stood gazing at
+him, breathing very fast with alarm, and unable to find a word to
+say.
+
+“Helen,” he groaned, without looking up again, “do you not know that
+you are beautiful? Have you no heart? You fling your soul bare
+before me, and you fill me with this fearful passion; you will drive
+me mad!”
+
+“But, Arthur,” she protested, “I could not think of you so; I
+thought of you as my brother, and I meant to make you happy.”
+
+“Tell me, then,” he gasped, staring at her, “tell me once for all.
+You do _not_ love me, Helen?”
+
+The girl answered with a frank gaze that was cruel, “No, Arthur.”
+
+“And you can never love me? You take back the promise that you made
+me?”
+
+“I told you that I was only a child, Arthur; it has been a long time
+since I have thought of it.”
+
+The young man choked back a sob. “Oh, Helen, if you only knew what
+cruel words those are,” he groaned. “I cannot bear them.”
+
+He gazed at her with his burning eyes, so that the girl lowered hers
+again. “Tell me!” he exclaimed. “What am I to do?”
+
+“Can we not remain friends, just as we used to be?” she asked
+pleadingly. “Can we not talk together and help each other as before?
+Oh, Arthur, I thought you would come here to live all summer, and
+how I should like it! Why can you not? Can you not let me play for
+you without--without--” and Helen stopped, and flushed a trifle; “I
+do not know quite what to make of you to-day,” she added.
+
+She was speaking kindly, but to the man beside her with his burning
+heart, her words were hard to hear; he stared at her, shuddering,
+and then suddenly he clenched his hands and started to his feet.
+
+“Helen,” he cried, “there is but one thing. I must go!”
+
+“Go?” echoed Helen.
+
+“If I stay here and gaze at you I shall go mad with despair,” he
+exclaimed incoherently. “Oh, I shall go mad! For I do love you, and
+you talk to me as if I were a child! Helen, I must get this out of
+my heart in some way, I cannot stay here.”
+
+“But, Arthur,” the girl protested, “I told father you would stay,
+and you will make yourself ill, for you have walked all day.”
+
+Every word she uttered was more torment to the other, for it showed
+him how much his hopes were gone to wreck. He rushed across the room
+and opened the door; then, however, he paused, as if that had cost
+him all his resolution. He gazed at the girl with a look of
+unspeakable yearning, his face white, and his limbs trembling
+beneath him.
+
+“You wish me to go, Helen?” he exclaimed.
+
+“Wish you!” exclaimed Helen, who was watching him in alarm. “Of
+course not; I want you to stay and see father, and--”
+
+“And hear you tell me that you do not love me! Oh, Helen, how can
+you say it again? Can you not see what you have done to me?”
+
+“Arthur!” cried the girl.
+
+“Yes, what you have done to me! You have made me so that I dare not
+stay near you. You _must_ love me, Helen, oh, some time you must!”
+ And he came toward her again, stretching out his arms to her. As she
+sprang back, frowning, he stopped and stood for an instant, half
+sinking; then he whirled about and darted out of the door.
+
+Helen was scarcely able to realize at first that he was gone, but
+when she looked out she saw that he was already far down the street,
+walking swiftly. For a moment she thought of calling him; but she
+checked herself, and closed the door quietly instead, after which
+she walked slowly across the room. In the center of it she stopped
+still, gazing in front of her thoughtfully, and looking very grave
+indeed. “That is dreadful,” she said slowly. “I had no idea of such
+a thing. What in the world am I to do?”
+
+There was a tall mirror between the two windows of the room, and
+Helen went toward it and stood in front of it, gazing earnestly at
+herself. “Is it true, then, that I am so very beautiful?” she mused.
+“And even Arthur must fall in love with me!”
+
+Helen's face was still flushed with the glory of her ride with the
+Storm-King; she smoothed back the long strands of golden hair that
+had come loose, and then she looked at herself again. “It is
+dreadful,” she said once more, half aloud, “I do not think I ever
+felt so nervous in my life, and I don't know what to do; everything
+I did to please him seemed only to make him more miserable. I wanted
+him to be happy with me; I wanted him to stay with me.” And she
+walked away frowning, and seated herself at the piano and began
+peevishly striking at the keys. “I am going to write to him and tell
+him that he must get over that dreadfulness,” she muttered after a
+while, “and come back and be friends with me. Oakdale will be too
+stupid without him all summer, and I should be miserable.”
+
+She was just rising impatiently when the front door opened and her
+father came in, exclaiming in a cheery voice, “Well, children!” Then
+he stopped in surprise. “Why, someone told me Arthur was here!” he
+exclaimed.
+
+“He's gone home again,” said Helen, in a dissatisfied tone.
+
+“Home!” exclaimed the other. “To Hilltown?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“But I thought he was going to stay until tomorrow.”
+
+“So did I,” said Helen, “but he changed his mind and decided that
+he'd better not.”
+
+“Why, I am really disappointed,” said Mr. Davis. “I thought we
+should have a little family party; I haven't seen Arthur for a
+month.”
+
+“There is some important reason,” said Helen--“that's what he told
+me, anyway.” She did not want her father to have any idea of the
+true reason, or to ask any inconvenient questions.
+
+Mr. Davis would perhaps have done so, had he not something else on
+his mind. “By the way, Helen,” he said, “I must ask you, what in the
+world was that fearful noise you were making?”
+
+“Noise?” asked Helen, puzzled for a moment.
+
+“Why, yes; I met old Mr. Nelson coming down the street, and he said
+that you were making a most dreadful racket upon the piano, and
+shouting, too, and that there were a dozen people standing in the
+street, staring!”
+
+A sudden wild thought occurred to Helen, and she whirled about. Sure
+enough, she found the two windows of the room wide open; and that
+was too much for her gravity; she flung herself upon the sofa and
+gave vent to peal after peal of laughter.
+
+“Oh, Daddy!” she gasped. “Oh, Daddy!”
+
+Mr. Davis did not understand the joke, but he waited patiently,
+taking off his gloves in the meantime. “What it is, Helen?” he
+enquired.
+
+“Oh, Daddy!” exclaimed the girl again, and lifted herself up and
+turned her laughing eyes upon him. “And now I understand why
+inspired people have to live in the country!”
+
+“What was it, Helen?”
+
+“It--it wasn't anything, Daddy, except that I was playing and
+singing for Arthur, and I forgot to close the windows.”
+
+“You must remember, my love, that you live in a clergyman's house,”
+ said Mr. Davis. “I have no objection to merriment, but it must be
+within bounds. Mr. Nelson said that he did not know what to think
+was the matter.”
+
+Helen made a wry face at the name; the Nelsons were a family of
+Methodists who lived across the way. Methodists are people who take
+life seriously as a rule, and Helen thought the Nelsons were very
+queer indeed.
+
+“I'll bet he did know what to think,” she chuckled, “even if he
+didn't say it; he thought that was just what to expect from a
+clergyman who had a decanter of wine on his dinner table.”
+
+Mr. Davis could not help smiling. And as for Helen, she was herself
+all over again; for when her father had come in, she had about
+reached a point where she could no longer bear to be serious and
+unhappy. As he went on to ask her to be a little less reckless,
+Helen put her arms around him and said, with the solemnity that she
+always wore when she was gayest: “But, Daddy, I don't know what I'm
+to do; you sent me to Germany to study music, and if I'm never to
+play it--”
+
+“Yes, but Helen; such frantic, dreadful noise!”
+
+“But, Daddy, the Germans are emotional people, you know; no one
+would have been in the least surprised at that in Germany; it was a
+hymn, Daddy!”
+
+“A hymn!” gasped Mr. Davis.
+
+“Yes, honestly,” said Helen. “It is a wonderful hymn. Every German
+knows it nearly by heart.”
+
+Mr. Davis had as much knowledge of German music as might be expected
+of one who had lived twenty years in the country and heard three
+hymns and an anthem sung every Sunday by a volunteer choir. Helen's
+musical education, as all her other education, had been
+superintended by Aunt Polly, and the only idea that came to Mr.
+Davis' mind was of Wagner, whose name he had heard people talk about
+in connection with noise and incoherency.
+
+“Helen,” he said, “I trust that is not the kind of hymn you are
+going to sing to-morrow.”
+
+“I don't know,” was the puzzled reply. “I'll see what I can do,
+Daddy. It's dreadfully hard to find anything in German music like
+the slow-going, practical lives that we dull Yankees lead.” Then a
+sudden idea occurred to the girl, and she ran to the piano with a
+gleeful laugh: “Just see, for instance,” she said, fumbling
+hurriedly amongst her music, “I was playing the Moonlight Sonata
+this morning, and that's a good instance.”
+
+“This is the kind of moonlight they have in Germany,” she laughed
+when she found it. After hammering out a few discords of her own she
+started recklessly into the incomprehensible “presto,” thundering
+away at every crescendo as if to break her fingers. “Isn't it fine,
+Daddy?” she cried, gazing over her shoulder.
+
+“I don't see what it has to do with the moon,” said the clergyman,
+gazing helplessly at the open window, and wondering if another crowd
+was gathering.
+
+“That's what everybody's been trying to find out!” said Helen; then,
+as she heard the dinner bell out in the hall, she ended with half a
+dozen frantic runs, and jumping up with the last of them, took her
+father's arm and danced out of the room with him.
+
+“Perhaps when we come to see the other side of the moon,” she said,
+“we may discover all about it. Or else it's because the moon is
+supposed to set people crazy.” So they passed in to dinner, where
+Helen was as animated as ever, poor Arthur and his troubles seeming
+to have vanished completely from her thoughts.
+
+In fact, it was not until the meal was nearly over that she spoke of
+them again; she noticed that it was growing dark outside, and she
+stepped to the window just as a distant rumble of thunder was heard.
+
+“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “There's a fearful storm coming, and poor
+Arthur is out in it; he must be a long way from town by this time,
+and there is no house where he can go.” From the window where she
+stood she had a view across the hills in back of the town, and could
+see the black clouds coming swiftly on. “It is like we were
+imagining this morning,” she mused; “I wonder if he will think of
+it.”
+
+The dinner was over soon after that, and she looked out again, just
+as the first drops of rain were falling; the thunder was rolling
+louder, bringing to Helen a faint echo of her morning music. She
+went in and sat down at the piano, her fingers roaming over the keys
+hesitatingly. “I wish I could get it again,” she mused. “It seems
+like a dream when I think of it, it was so wild and so wonderful.
+Oh, if I could only remember that march!”
+
+There came a crash of thunder near by, as if to help her, but Helen
+found that all efforts were in vain. Neither the storm music nor the
+march came back to her, and even when she played a few chords of the
+great chorus she had sung, it sounded tame and commonplace. Helen
+knew that the glory of that morning was gone where goes the best
+inspiration of all humanity, back into nothingness and night.
+
+“It was a shame,” she thought, as she rose discontentedly from the
+piano. “I never was so carried away by music in my life, and the
+memory of it would have kept me happy for weeks, if Arthur hadn't
+been here to trouble me!”
+
+Then, however, as she went to the window again to watch the storm
+which was now raging in all its majesty, she added more unselfishly:
+“Poor boy! It is dreadful to think of him being out in it.” She saw
+a bolt of lightning strike in the distance, and she waited
+breathlessly for the thunder. It was a fearful crash, and it made
+her blood run faster, and her eyes sparkle. “My!” she exclaimed.
+“But it's fine!” And then she added with a laugh, “He can correct
+his poem by it, if he wants to!”
+
+She turned to go upstairs. On the way she stopped with a rather
+conscience-stricken look, and said to herself, “Poor fellow! It
+seems a shame to be happy!” She stood for a moment thinking, but
+then she added, “Yet I declare, I don't know what to do for him; it
+surely isn't my fault if I am not in love with him in that mad
+fashion, and I don't see why I should make myself wretched about
+it!” Having thus silenced her conscience, she went up to unpack her
+trunks, humming to herself on the way:
+
+  “Sir Knight, a faithful sister's love
+    This heart devotes to thee;
+  I pray thee ask no other love,
+    For pain that causes me.
+
+  “Quiet would I see thee come,
+    And quiet see thee go;
+  The silent weeping of thine eyes
+    I cannot bear to know.”
+
+While she was singing Arthur was in the midst of the tempest,
+staggering towards his home ten miles away. He was drenched by the
+cold rain, and shivering and almost fainting from exhaustion--for he
+had eaten nothing since early dawn; yet so wretched and sick at
+heart was he that he felt nothing, and scarcely heard the storm or
+realized where he was.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+  “Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay?
+  Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saay.
+
+  But I knawed a Quaaker feller as often 'as towd ma this:
+  'Doant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!'”
+
+Helen had much to do to keep her busy during the next few days. She
+had in the first place to receive visits from nearly everybody in
+Oakdale, for she was a general favorite in the town, and besides
+that everyone was curious to see what effect the trip had had upon
+her beauty and accomplishments. Then too, she had the unpacking of
+an incredible number of trunks; it was true that Helen, having been
+a favored boarder at an aristocratic seminary, was not in the habit
+of doing anything troublesome herself, but she considered it
+necessary to superintend the servant. Last of all there was a great
+event at the house of her aunt, Mrs. Roberts, to be anticipated and
+prepared for.
+
+It has been said that the marriage of Mr. Davis had been a second
+romance in that worthy man's career, he having had the fortune to
+win the love of a daughter of a very wealthy family which lived near
+Oakdale. The parents had of course been bitterly opposed to the
+match, but the girl had had her way. Unfortunately, however, the
+lovers, or at any rate the bride, having been without any real idea
+of duty or sacrifice, the match had proved one of those that serve
+to justify the opinions of people who are “sensible;” the young
+wife, wearying of the lot she had chosen, had sunk into a state of
+peevish discontent from which death came to relieve her.
+
+Of this prodigal daughter Aunt Polly was the elder, and wiser,
+sister. She had never ceased to urge upon the other, both before and
+after marriage, the folly of her conduct, and had lived herself to
+be a proof of her own more excellent sense, having married a wealthy
+stockbroker who proved a good investment, trebling his own capital
+and hers in a few years. Aunt Polly therefore had a fine home upon
+Madison Avenue in New York, and a most aristocratic country-seat a
+few miles from Oakdale, together with the privilege of frequenting
+the best society in New York, and of choosing her friends amongst
+the most wealthy in the neighborhood of the little town. This
+superiority to her erring sister had probably been one of the causes
+that had contributed to develop the most prominent trait in her
+character--which is perhaps the most prominent trait of high society
+in general--a complete satisfaction with the world she knew, and
+what she knew about it, and the part she played in it. For the rest,
+Aunt Polly was one of those bustling little women who rule the world
+in almost everything, because the world finds it is too much trouble
+to oppose them. She had assumed, and had generally succeeded in
+having recognized, a complete superiority to Mr. Davis in her
+knowledge about life, with the result that, as has been stated, the
+education of the one child of the unfortunate marriage had been
+managed by her.
+
+When, therefore, Helen had come off the steamer, it had been Mrs.
+Roberts who was there to meet her; and the arrangement announced was
+that the girl was to have three days to spend with her father, and
+was then to come for a week or two at her aunt's, who was just
+opening her country home and who intended to invite a score of
+people whom she considered, for reasons of her own, proper persons
+for her niece to meet. Mrs. Roberts spoke very condescendingly
+indeed of the company which Helen met at her father's, Mr. Davis
+having his own opinions about the duty of a clergyman toward the
+non-aristocratic members of his flock.
+
+The arrangement, it is scarcely necessary to say, pleased Helen very
+much indeed; the atmosphere of luxury and easy superiority which she
+found at her aunt's was much to her taste, and she looked forward to
+being a center of attraction there with the keenest delight. In the
+meantime, however, she slaked her thirst for happiness just as well
+at Oakdale, accepting with queenly grace the homage of all who came
+to lay their presents at her feet. Sunday proved to be a day of
+triumph, for all the town had come to church, and was as much
+stirred by the glory of her singing as Arthur had predicted. After
+the service everyone waited to tell her about it, and so she was
+radiant indeed.
+
+By Tuesday, however, all that had come to seem a trifling matter,
+for that afternoon Aunt Polly was to come, and a new world was to be
+opened for her conquest. Helen was amusing herself by sorting out
+the motley collection of souvenirs and curios which she had brought
+home to decorate her room, when she heard a carriage drive up at the
+door, and a minute later heard the voice of Mrs. Roberts' footman in
+the hall.
+
+Mrs. Roberts herself did not alight, and Helen kept her waiting only
+long enough to slip on her hat, and to bid her father a hurried
+farewell. In a minute more she was in the carriage, and was being
+borne in state down the main street of Oakdale.
+
+“You are beautiful to-day, my dear,” said her aunt, beaming upon
+her; “I hope you are all ready for your triumph.”
+
+“I think so,” said Helen. “I've about seen everybody and everything
+I wanted to at home; I've been wonderfully happy, Auntie.”
+
+“That is right, my dear,” said Aunt Polly. “You have certainly every
+cause to be, and you would be foolish not to make the most of it.
+But I should think this town would seem a somewhat less important
+place to you, after all that you have seen of the world.”
+
+“Yes, it does a little,” laughed Helen, “but it seemed good to see
+all the old people again.”
+
+“Someone told me they saw Arthur here on Saturday,” said the other.
+“Did you see _him?_”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Helen; “that's what he came for. You can fancy how
+glad I was to meet him. I spent a couple of hours walking in the
+woods with him.”
+
+Mrs. Roberts' look of dismay may be imagined; it was far too great
+for her to hide.
+
+“Where is he now?” she asked, hastily.
+
+“Oh, he has gone home,” said Helen; and she added, smiling, “he went
+on Saturday afternoon, because he's writing a poem about
+thunderstorms, and he wanted to study that one.”
+
+The other was sufficiently convinced of the irresponsibility of
+poets to be half uncertain whether Helen was joking or not; it was
+very frequently difficult to tell, anyway, for Helen would look
+serious and amuse herself by watching another person's mystification--a
+trait of character which would have been intolerable in anyone less
+fascinating than she.
+
+Perhaps Aunt Polly thought something of that as she sat and watched
+the girl. Aunt Polly was a little woman who looked as if she herself
+might have once made some pretense to being a belle, but she was
+very humble before Helen. “My dear,” she said, “every minute that I
+watch you, I am astonished to see how wonderfully you have grown. Do
+you know, Helen, you are glorious!”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, smiling delightedly. “Isn't it nice, Aunt Polly?
+I'm so glad I'm beautiful.”
+
+“You funny child,” laughed the other. “What a queer thing to say!”
+
+“Am I not to know I am beautiful?” inquired Helen, looking at her
+with open eyes. “Why, dear me! I can look at myself in the glass and
+be just as happy as anyone else; I love everything beautiful.”
+
+Aunt Polly beamed upon her. “I am glad of it, my dear,” she laughed.
+“I only wish I could say something to you to make you realize what
+your wonderful beauty means.”
+
+“How, Aunt Polly?” asked the girl. “Have you been reading poetry?”
+
+“No,” said the other, “not exactly; but you know very well in your
+heart what hopes I have for you, Helen, and I only wish you could
+appreciate the gift that has been given you, and not fling it away
+in any foolish fashion. With your talents and your education, my
+dear, there is almost nothing that you might not do.”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, with all of her seriousness, “I often think of
+it; perhaps, Auntie, I might become a poetess!”
+
+The other looked aghast. Helen had seen the look on her aunt's face
+at the mention of her walk with Arthur, and being a young lady of
+electrical wit, had understood just what it meant, and just how the
+rest of the conversation was intended to bear upon the matter; with
+that advantage she was quite in her glory.
+
+“No, indeed, Aunt Polly,” she said, “you can never tell; just
+suppose, for instance, I were to fall in love with and marry a man
+of wonderful genius, who would help me to devote myself to art? It
+would not make any difference, you know, if he were poor--we could
+struggle and help each other. And oh, I tell you, if I were to meet
+such a man, and to know that he loved me truly, and to have proof
+that he could remember me and be true to me, even when I was far
+away, oh, I tell you, nothing could ever keep me--”
+
+Helen was declaiming her glowing speech with real fervor, her hands
+dramatically outstretched. But she could not get any further, for
+the look of utter horror upon her auditor's face was too much for
+her; she dropped her hands and made the air echo with her laughter.
+
+“Oh, Aunt Polly, you goose!” she cried, flinging one arm about her,
+“have you really forgotten me that much in three years?”
+
+The other was so relieved at the happy denouement of that fearful
+tragedy that she could only protest, “Helen, Helen, why do you fool
+me so?”
+
+“Because you fool me, or try to,” said Helen. “When you have a
+sermon to preach on the impropriety of walking in the woods alone
+with a susceptible young poet, I wish you'd mount formally into the
+pulpit and begin with the text.”
+
+“My dear,” laughed the other, “you are too quick; but I must
+confess--”
+
+“Of course you must,” said the girl; and she folded her hands meekly
+and looked grave. “And now I am ready; and if you meet with any
+difficulties in the course of your sermon, I've an expert at home
+who has preached one hundred and four every year for twenty years,
+all genuine and no two alike.”
+
+“Helen,” said the other, “I do wish you would talk seriously with
+me. You are old enough to be your own mistress now, and to do as you
+please, but you ought to realize that I have seen the world more
+than you, and that my advice is worth something.”
+
+“Tell it to me,” said Helen, ceasing to laugh, and leaning back in
+the carriage and gazing at her aunt. “What do you want me to do, now
+that I am home? I will be really serious if you wish me to, for that
+does interest me. I suppose that my education is finished?”
+
+“Yes,” said the other, “it ought to be, certainly; you have had
+every advantage that a girl can have, a great deal more than I ever
+had. And you owe it all to me, Helen,--you do, really; if it hadn't
+been for my insisting you'd have gotten all your education at
+Hilltown, and you'd have played the piano and sung like Mary Nelson
+across the way.”
+
+Helen shuddered, and felt that that was cause indeed for gratitude.
+
+“It is true,” said her aunt; “I've taken as much interest in you as
+in any one of my own children, and you must know it. It was for no
+reason at all but that I saw what a wonderful woman you promised to
+become, and I was anxious to help you to the social position that I
+thought you ought to have. And now, Helen, the chance is yours if
+you care to take it.”
+
+“I am taking it, am I not?” asked Helen; “I'm going with you, and I
+shall be just as charming as I can.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” said the other, smiling a little; “but that is not
+exactly what I mean.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Of course, my dear, you may enter good society a while by visiting
+me; but that will not be permanently. You will have to marry into
+it, Helen dear.”
+
+“Marry!” echoed the girl, taken aback. “Dear me!”
+
+“You will wish to marry some time,” said the other, “and so you
+should look forward to it and choose your course. With your charms,
+Helen, there is almost nothing that you might not hope for; you must
+know yourself that you could make any man fall in love with you that
+you wished. And you ought to know also that if you only had wealth
+you could enter any society; for you have good birth, and you will
+discover that you have more knowledge and more wit than most of the
+people you meet.”
+
+“I've discovered that already,” said Helen, laughing.
+
+“All that you must do, my love,” went on the other, “is to realize
+what is before you, and make up your mind to what you want. You know
+that your tastes are not those of a poor woman; you have been
+accustomed to comfort, and you need refinement and wealth; you could
+never be happy unless you could entertain your friends properly, and
+live as you pleased.”
+
+“But I don't want to marry a man just for his money,” protested the
+girl, not altogether pleased with her aunt's business-like view.
+
+“No one wants you to,” the other responded; “you may marry for love
+if you like; but it is not impossible to love a rich man, is it,
+Helen?”
+
+“But, Aunt Polly,” said Helen, “I am satisfied as I am now. I do not
+want to marry anybody. The very idea makes me shudder.”
+
+“I am not in the least anxious that you should,” was the answer.
+“You are young, and you may choose your own time. All I am anxious
+for is that you should realize the future that is before you. It is
+dreadful to me to think that you might throw your precious chance
+away by some ridiculous folly.”
+
+Helen looked at her aunt for a moment, and then the irrepressible
+smile broke out.
+
+“What is the matter, child?” asked the other.
+
+“Nothing, except that I was thinking about how these thoughts were
+brought up.”
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“Apropos of my woodland walk with poor Arthur. Auntie, I do believe
+you're afraid I'm going to fall in love with the dear fellow.”
+
+“No,” said Aunt Polly; “it is not exactly that, for I'd never be
+able to sleep at night if I thought you capable of anything quite so
+ghastly. But we must have some care of what people will think, my
+dear Helen.”
+
+As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly did have some very serious fears
+about the matter, as has been hinted before; it was, perhaps, a kind
+of tribute to the divine fire which even society's leaders pay. If
+it had been a question of a person of her own sense and experience,
+the word “genius” would have suggested no danger to Mrs. Roberts,
+but it was different with a young and probably sentimental person
+like Helen, with her inflaming beauty.
+
+“As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly,” said Helen, “everybody
+understands my intimacy with Arthur.”
+
+“Tell me, Helen dear,” said the other, turning her keen glance upon
+her; “tell me the honest truth.”
+
+“About what?”
+
+“You are not in love with Arthur?”
+
+And Helen answered her with her eyes very wide open: “No, I
+certainly am not in the least.”
+
+And the other drew secretly a great breath of relief. “Is he in love
+with you, Helen?” she asked.
+
+As Helen thought of Arthur's departure, the question could not but
+bring a smile. “I--I'm afraid he is,” she said.--“a very little.”
+
+“What a ridiculous impertinence!” exclaimed the other, indignantly.
+
+“Oh, that's all right, Auntie,” said Helen; “he really can't help
+it, you know.” She paused for a moment, and then she went on: “Such
+things used to puzzle me when I was very young, and I used to think
+them quite exciting; but I'm getting used to them now. All the men
+seem to fall in love with me,--they do, honestly, and I don't know
+how in the world to help it. They all will make themselves wretched,
+and I'm sure it isn't my fault. I haven't told you anything about my
+German lovers, have I, Auntie?”
+
+“Gracious, no!” said the other; “were there any?”
+
+“Any?” laughed the girl. “I might have robbed the Emperor of a whole
+colonel's staff, and the colonel at the head of it. But I'll tell
+you about Johann, the funniest one of all; I think he really loved
+me more than all the rest.”
+
+“Pray, who was Johann?” asked Aunt Polly, thinking how fortunate it
+was that she learned of these things only after the danger was over.
+
+“I never will forget the first time I met him,” laughed the girl,
+“the first day I went to the school. Johann was a little boy who
+opened the door for me, and he stared at me as if he were in a
+trance; he had the most wonderful round eyes, and puffy red cheeks
+that made me always think I'd happened to ring the bell while he was
+eating; and every time after that he saw me for three years he used
+to gaze at me in the same helpless wonder, with all lingers of his
+fat little hands wide apart.”
+
+“What a disagreeable wretch!” said the other.
+
+“Not in the least,” laughed Helen; “I liked him. But the funniest
+part came afterwards, for when I came away Johann had grown a whole
+foot, and was quite a man. I sent for him to put the straps on my
+trunks, and guess what he did! He stared at me for a minute, just
+the same as ever, and then he ran out of the room, blubbering like a
+baby; and that's the last I ever saw of him.”
+
+Helen was laughing as she told the story, but then she stopped and
+looked a little conscience-stricken. “Do you know, Aunt Polly,” she
+said, “it is really a dreadful thing to make people unhappy like
+that; I suppose poor Johann had spent three whole years dreaming
+about the enchanted castle in which I was to be fairy princess.”
+
+“It was a good chance for a romantic marriage,” said the other.
+
+“Yes,” said the girl, laughing again; “I tried to fancy it. He'd
+have kept a Wirthshaus, I suppose, and I'd have served the guests;
+and Arthur might have come, and I'd have cut Butterbrod for him and
+he could have been my Werther! Wouldn't Arthur have made a fine
+Werther, though, Aunt Polly?”
+
+“And blown his brains out afterwards,” added the other.
+
+“No,” said Helen, “brains are too scarce; I'd rather have him follow
+Goethe's example and write a book about it instead. You know I don't
+believe half the things these poets tell you, for I think they put
+themselves through their dreadful experiences just to tell about
+them and make themselves famous. Don't you believe that, Auntie?”
+
+“I don't know,” said the other (a statement which she seldom made).
+“I don't know much about such things. Nobody reads poetry any more,
+you know, Helen, and it doesn't really help one along very much.”
+
+“It doesn't do any harm, does it?” inquired the girl, smiling to
+herself, “just a little, once in a while?”
+
+“Oh, no, of course not,” said the other; “I believe that a woman
+ought to have a broad education, for she never knows what may be the
+whims of the men she meets, or what turn a conversation may take.
+All I'm afraid of, Helen, is that if you fill your mind with
+sentimental ideas you might be so silly as to fancy that you were
+doing something romantic in throwing your one great chance away upon
+some worthless nobody. I want you to realize what you are, Helen,
+and that you owe something to yourself, and to your family, too; for
+the Roberts have always had wealth and position until your mother
+chose to marry a poor man. What I warn you of now is exactly what I
+warned her of. Your father is a good man, but he had absolutely
+nothing to make your mother happy; she was cut off from everything
+she had been used to,--she could not even keep a carriage. And of
+course she could not receive her old friends, very few of them cared
+to have anything more to do with her, and so she simply pined away
+in discontentment and miserable poverty. You have had an easy life,
+Helen, and you have no idea of what a horrible thing it is to be
+poor; you have had the best of teachers, and you have lived at an
+expensive school, and of course you have always had me to rely upon
+to introduce you to the right people; but if you married a poor man
+you couldn't expect to keep any of those advantages. I don't speak
+of your marrying a man who had no money at all, for that would be
+too fearful to talk about; but suppose you were to take any one of
+the young men you might meet at Oakdale even, you'd have to live in
+a mean little house, and do with one or two servants, and worry
+yourself about the butcher's bills and brush your own dresses and
+drive your own horse. And how long do you suppose it would be before
+you repented of that? Think of having to be like those poor Masons,
+for instance; they are nice people, and I like them, but I hate to
+go there, for every time I can't help seeing that the parlor
+furniture is more dingy, and thinking how miserable they must be,
+not to be able to buy new things. And their servants' liveries are
+half worn too; and when you dine there you see that Mrs. Mason is
+eating with a plated fork, because she has not enough of her best
+silver to go around. All those things are trifles, Helen, but think
+of the worry they must give those poor people, who are pinching
+themselves and wearing themselves out soul and body, trying to keep
+in the station where they belong, or used to. Poor Mrs. Mason is
+pale and nervous and wrinkled at forty, and those three poor girls,
+who spend their time making over their old dresses, are so
+dowdy-looking and uneasy that no man ever glances at them twice.
+It is such misery as that which I dread for you, Helen, and why I am
+talking to you. There is no reason why you should take upon you such
+sorrows; you have a clear head, and you can think for yourself and
+make up your mind about things if you only won't blind yourself by
+foolish sentimentality. You have been brought up to a certain
+station in life, and no man has a right to offer himself to you
+unless he can maintain you in that station. There is really no
+scarcity of such men, Helen, and you'd have no trouble in finding
+one. There are hundreds of men in New York who are worth millions,
+and who would fling themselves and their wealth at your feet if you
+would have them. And you would find such a difference between the
+opportunities of pleasure and command that such a chance would give
+you and the narrow life that you lead in this little town that you
+would wonder how you could ever have been satisfied. It is difficult
+for you to realize what I mean, my dear, because you have only a
+schoolgirl's knowledge of life and its pleasures, but when you are
+in the world, and have learned what power is, and what it means to
+possess such beauty as yours, you will feel your heart swelling with
+a new pleasure, and you will thank me for what I tell you. I have
+figured a wonderful triumph for you, Helen, and it is time you knew
+what is before you. Of what use is your beauty, if you do not carry
+it into a wide enough sphere, where it can bring you the admiration
+and homage you deserve? You need such a field, Helen, to discover
+your own powers in; believe me, my dear, there is really a higher
+ambition in the world than to be a country clergyman's daughter.”
+
+“Is there any higher than being happy, Auntie?” asked Helen.
+
+The importance of that observation was beyond the other's ken, as
+indeed it was beyond Helen's also; she had thrown it out as a chance
+remark.
+
+“Mr. Roberts and I were talking about this last night,” went on Aunt
+Polly, “and he told me that I ought to talk seriously to you about
+it, and get you to realize what a golden future is before you. For
+it is really true, Helen, as sure as you can trust what I know about
+the world, that you can have absolutely anything that you want. That
+is the long and short of the matter--anything that you want! And why
+should you not have the very best that life can give you? Why should
+you have to know that other people dwell in finer houses than yours,
+and are free from cares that make you ill? Why should you have the
+humiliation of being looked down upon and scorned by other people?
+Are these other people more entitled to luxury than you, or more
+able to enjoy it; or could anyone do it more honor than you? You are
+beautiful beyond telling; you have every gift that a woman can ask
+to complete enjoyment of life; you are perfect, Helen, you are
+really perfect! You _must_ know that; you must say it to yourself
+when you are alone, and know that your life ought to be a queenly
+triumph. You have only to stretch out your arms and everything will
+come to you; and there is really and truly no end to the happiness
+you can taste.”
+
+Helen was gazing at the other with real earnestness, and the words
+were sinking deep into her soul, deeper than words generally sunk
+there. She felt her cheeks burning, and her frame stirred by a new
+emotion; she had seldom before thought of anything but the happiness
+of the hour.
+
+“Just think of it, my love,” continued Mrs. Roberts, “and know that
+that is what your old auntie was thinking of when you were only a
+little tiny girl, sitting upon her knee, and when you were so
+beautiful that artists used to beg to have you pose for them. I
+never said anything about it then, because you were too young to
+understand these things; but now that you are to manage yourself, I
+have been waiting for a chance to tell you, so that you may see what
+a prize is yours if you are only wise. And if you wonder why I have
+cared so much and thought so much of what might be yours, the only
+reason I can give is that you are my niece, and that I felt that any
+triumph you might win would be mine. I want you to win a higher
+place in the world than mine, Helen; I never had such a gift as
+yours.”
+
+Helen was silent for a minute, deeply thoughtful.
+
+“Tell me, Auntie,” she asked, “and is it really true, then, that a
+woman is to train herself and grow beautiful and to have so much
+trouble and money spent upon her--only for her marriage?”
+
+“Why of course, Helen; what else can a woman do? Unless you have
+money and a husband you cannot possibly hope to accomplish anything
+in society. With your talents and your beauty you might go anywhere
+and rule anywhere, but you have to have money before you can even
+begin.”
+
+“But where am I to meet such a rich man, Aunt Polly?” asked Helen.
+
+“You know perfectly well where. Do you suppose that after I have
+worried myself about you all this time I mean to desert you now,
+when you are at the very climax of your glory, when you are all that
+I ever dared dream of? My dear Helen, I am more interested in you
+just now than in anything else in the world. I feel as a card player
+feels when millions are at stake, and when he knows that he holds
+the perfect hand.”
+
+“That is very nice,” said Helen, laughing nervously. “But there is
+always a chance of mistake.”
+
+“There is none this time, Helen, for I am an old player, and I have
+been picking and arranging my hand for long, long years; and you are
+the hand, my love, and the greatest glory of it all must be yours.”
+
+Helen's heart was throbbing still faster with excitement, as if she
+were already tasting the wonderful triumph that was before her; her
+aunt was watching her closely, noting how the blood was mounting to
+her bright cheeks. The girl felt herself suddenly choking with her
+pent up excitement, and she stretched out her arms with a strange
+laugh.
+
+“Auntie,” she said, “you tell me too much at once.”
+
+The other had been marshaling her forces like a general during the
+last few minutes, and she felt just then as if there were nothing
+left but the rout. “All that I tell you, you may see for yourself,”
+ she said. “I don't ask you to take anything on my word, for you have
+only to look in the glass and compare yourself with the women you
+meet. You will find that all men will turn their eyes upon you when
+you enter a room.”
+
+Helen did not consider it necessary to debate that question. “You
+have invited some rich man to meet me at your house?” she asked.
+
+“I was going to say nothing to you about it at first,” said the
+other, “and let you find out. But I thought afterwards that it would
+be better to tell you, so that you could manage for yourself. I have
+invited all the men whom Mr. Roberts and I thought it would be best
+for you to meet.”
+
+Helen gazed at her aunt silently for a moment, and then she broke
+into a nervous laugh. “A regular exposition!” she said; “and you'll
+bring them out one by one and put them through their paces, won't
+you, Auntie? And have them labeled for comparison,--so that I can
+tell just what stocks they own and how they stand on the 'Street'!
+Do you remember the suitor in Moliere?--_'J'ai quinze mille livres
+de rente; j'ai le corps sain; j'ai des beaux dents!_'”
+
+It was a flash of Helen's old merriment, but it did not seem so
+natural as usual, even to her. She forced herself to laugh, for she
+was growing more and more excited and uneasy.
+
+“My dear,” said Aunt Polly, “please do not begin making fun again.”
+
+“But you must let me joke a little, Auntie,” said the girl. “I have
+never been serious for so long before.”
+
+“You ought to be serious about it, my dear.”
+
+“I will,” said Helen. “I have really listened attentively; you must
+tell me all about these rich men that I am to meet, and what I am to
+do. I hope I am not the only girl.”
+
+“Of course not,” was the response; “I would not do anything
+ridiculous. I have invited a number of other girls--but they won't
+trouble you in the least.”
+
+“No,” said Helen. “I am not afraid of other girls; but what's to be
+done? It's a sort of house-warming, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes,” was the reply, “I suppose so, for I only came down last week
+myself. I have asked about twenty people for a week or two; they all
+know each other, more or less, so there won't be much formality. We
+shall amuse ourselves with coaching and golf, and anything else we
+please; and of course there will be plenty of music in the evening.”
+
+Helen smiled at the significant tone of her aunt's voice. “Are the
+people there now?” she asked.
+
+“Those who live anywhere in the neighborhood are; most of the men
+will be down on the afternoon train, in time for dinner.”
+
+“And tell me who are the men, Auntie?”
+
+“I'm afraid I won't have time,” said Mrs. Roberts, glancing out of
+the carriage. “We are too near home. But I will tell you about one
+of them, if you like.”
+
+“The king-bee?” laughed Helen. “Is there a king-bee?”
+
+“Yes,” said Mrs. Roberts; “there is. At any rate, my husband and I
+think he is, and we are anxious to see what you think. His name is
+Gerald Harrison, and he comes from Cincinnati.”
+
+“Oh, dear,” said Helen, “I hate to meet men from the West. He must
+be a pork-packer, or something horrible.”
+
+“No,” said the other, “he is a railroad president.”
+
+“And why do you think he's the king-bee; is he very rich?”
+
+“He is worth about ten million dollars,” said Aunt Polly.
+
+Helen gazed at her wildly. “Ten million dollars!” she gasped.
+
+“Yes,” said the other; “about that, probably a little more. Mr.
+Roberts knows all about his affairs.”
+
+Helen was staring into her aunt's face. “Tell me,” she asked, very
+nervously indeed. “Tell me, honestly!”
+
+“What?”
+
+“Is that the man you are bringing me here to meet?”
+
+“Yes, Helen,” said the other quietly.
+
+The girl's hands were clasped tightly together just then. “Aunt
+Polly,” she asked, “what kind of a man is he? I will not marry a bad
+man!”
+
+“A bad man, child? How ridiculous! Do you suppose I would ask you to
+marry a bad man, if he owned all New York? I want you to be happy.
+Mr. Harrison is a man who has made his own fortune, and he is a man
+of tremendous energy. Everyone is obliged to respect him.”
+
+“But he must be old, Auntie.”
+
+“He is very young, Helen, only about forty.”
+
+“Dear me,” said the girl, “I could never marry a man as old as
+forty; and then, I'd have to go out West!”
+
+“Mr. Harrison has come to New York to live,” was the other's reply.
+“He has just bought a really magnificent country seat about ten
+miles from here--the old Everson place, if you remember it; and he
+is negotiating for a house near ours in the city. My husband and I
+both agreed, Helen, that if you could make Mr. Harrison fall in love
+with you it would be all that we could desire.”
+
+“That is not the real problem,” Helen said, gazing out of the
+carriage with a frightened look upon her face; “it is whether I can
+fall in love with him. Aunt Polly, it is dreadful to me to think of
+marrying; I don't want to marry! I don't care who the man is!”
+
+“We'll see about that later on,” said the other, smiling
+reassuringly, and at the same time putting her arm about the girl;
+“there is no hurry, my love, and no one has the least thought of
+asking you to do what you do not want to do. But a chance like this
+does not come often to any girl, my dear. Mr. Harrison is in every
+way a desirable man.”
+
+“But he's stupid, Aunt Polly, I know he's stupid! All self-made men
+are; they tell you about how they made themselves, and what
+wonderful things they hare made!”
+
+“You must of course not expect to find Mr. Harrison as cultured as
+yourself, Helen,” was the reply; “his education has been that of the
+world, and not of books. But nobody thinks less of a man for that in
+the world; the most one can ask is that he does not make pretenses.
+And he is very far from stupid, I assure you, or he would not have
+been what he is.”
+
+“I suppose not,” said Helen, weakly.
+
+“And, besides,” observed Aunt Polly, laughing to cheer the girl up,
+“I assure you it doesn't make any difference. My husband makes no
+pretense to being a wit, or a musician, or anything like that; he's
+just a plain, sensible man, but we get along as happily as you could
+wish. We each of us go our own way, and understand each other
+perfectly.”
+
+“So I'm to marry a plain, sensible man?” asked the girl, apparently
+not much comforted by the observation.
+
+“A plain, sensible man with ten million dollars, my dear,” said Aunt
+Polly, “who adores you and has nothing to do with his money but to
+let you make yourself happy and glorious with it? But don't worry
+yourself, my child, because the first thing for you to feel is that
+if you don't like him you need not take him. It all rests upon you;
+he won't be here till after the rest, till the evening train, so you
+can have time to think it over and calculate whether ten million
+dollars will buy anything you want.” And Mrs. Roberts laughed.
+
+Then the carriage having passed within the gates of her home, she
+kissed the girl upon her cheek. “By the way,” she added, “if you
+want to meet a romantic person to offset Mr. Harrison, I'll tell you
+about Mr. Howard. I haven't mentioned him, have I?”
+
+“I never heard of him,” said Helen.
+
+“It's a real romance,” said the other. “You didn't suppose that your
+sensible old auntie could have a romance, did you?”
+
+“Tell me about it,” laughed Helen.
+
+The carriage was driving up the broad avenue that led to the Roberts
+house; it was a drive of a minute or two, however, and so Aunt Polly
+had time for a hasty explanation.
+
+“It was over twenty years ago,” she said, “before your mother was
+married, and when our family had a camp up in the Adirondacks; there
+were only two others near us, and in each of them there was a young
+man about my age. We three were great friends for three or four
+years, but we've never seen each other since till a short while
+ago.”
+
+“And one of them is this man?”
+
+“Yes,” said Mrs. Roberts; “his name is David Howard; I met him quite
+by accident the other day, and recognized him. He lives all alone,
+in the winter in New York somewheres, and in the summer up at the
+same place in the mountains; he's the most romantic man you ever
+met, and I know you'll find him interesting. He's a poet, I fancy,
+or a musician at any rate, and he's a very great scholar.”
+
+“Is he rich too?” asked the girl, laughing.
+
+“I fancy not,” was the reply, “but I can't tell; he lives very
+plainly.”
+
+“Aren't you afraid I'll fall in love with him, Auntie?”
+
+“No,” said the other, smiling to herself; “I'm not worrying about
+that.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Wait till you see him, my dear,” was the reply; “if you choose him
+for a husband I'll give my consent.”
+
+“That sounds mysterious,” observed the girl, gazing at her aunt;
+“tell me, is he here now?”
+
+“Yes,” said Aunt Polly; “he's been here a day or two; but I don't
+think you'll see him at dinner, because he has been feeling unwell
+today; he may be down a while this evening, for I've been telling
+him about you, and he's anxious to see you. You must be nice to him,
+Helen, and try to feel as sorry for him as I do.”
+
+“Sorry for him?” echoed the girl with a start.
+
+“Yes, my dear, he is an invalid, with some very dreadful
+affliction.”
+
+And Helen stared at her aunt. “An affliction!” she cried. “Aunt
+Polly, that is horrible! What in the world did you invite an invalid
+for at this time, with all the other people? I _hate_ invalids!”
+
+“I had asked him before,” was the apologetic reply, “and so I
+couldn't help it. I had great difficulty in getting him to promise
+to come anyway, for he's a very strange, solitary man. But I wanted
+to have my little romance, and renew our acquaintance, and this was
+the only time the third party could come.”
+
+“Oh, the third one is here too?”
+
+“He will be in a day or two.”
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+“His name is Lieutenant Maynard, and he's in the navy; he's
+stationed at Brooklyn just now, but he expects to get leave for a
+while.”
+
+“That is a little better,” Helen remarked, as the carriage was
+drawing up in front of the great house. “I'd marry a naval officer.”
+
+“No,” laughed Aunt Polly; “he leaves a wife and some children in
+Brooklyn. We three are going to keep to ourselves and talk about old
+times and what has happened to us since then, and so you young folks
+will not be troubled by us.”
+
+“I hope you will,” said the other, “for I can't ever be happy with
+invalids.”
+
+And there, as the carriage door was opened, the conversation ended
+abruptly. When Helen had sprung out she found that there were six or
+eight people upon the piazza, to whom the excitement of being
+introduced drove from her mind for a time all thoughts which her
+aunt's words had brought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+  “If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me,
+    Without my stir.”
+
+Most of the people whom Helen met upon her arrival were of her own
+sex, so that she did not feel called upon to make special exertions
+to please them; but she was naturally cheerful and happy with
+everyone, and the other matters of which Mrs. Roberts had talked
+took on such vast proportions before her mind that it was a relief
+to her to put them aside and enjoy herself for a while in her usual
+way. Helen was glad that most of the men were to arrive later, so
+that she might make her appearance before them under the most
+favorable circumstances. When she heard the distant whistle of the
+afternoon train a couple of hours later, it was with that thought
+that she retired to her room to rest before dressing.
+
+Aunt Polly, following her plan of accustoming the girl to a proper
+style of living, had engaged a maid to attend her during her stay;
+and Helen found therefore that her trunks were unpacked and
+everything in order. It was a great relief to her to be rid of all
+care, and she took off her dress and flung herself down upon the bed
+to think.
+
+Helen had imbided during her Sunday-school days the usual formulas
+of dogmatic religion, but upon matters of morality her ideas were of
+the vaguest possible description. The guide of her life had always
+been her instinct for happiness, her “genial sense of youth.” She
+had never formulated any rule of life to herself, but that which she
+sought was joy, primarily for herself, and incidentally for other
+people, because unhappy people were disturbing (unless it were
+possible to avoid them). In debating within herself the arguments
+which her aunt had brought before her mind, it was that principle
+chiefly by which she tested them.
+
+To the girl's eager nature, keenly sensitive to pleasure and greedy
+for it, the prospect so suddenly flung wide before her eyes was so
+intoxicating that again and again as she thought of it it made her
+tremble and burn. So far as Helen could see at that moment, a
+marriage with this Mr. Harrison would mean the command of every
+source of happiness; and upon a scale so magnificent, so belittling
+of everything she had known before, that she shrank from it as
+something impossible and unnatural. Again and again she buried her
+heated brow in her hands and muttered: “I ought to have known it
+before! I ought to have had time to realize it.”
+
+That which restrained the girl from welcoming such an opportunity,
+from clasping it to her in ecstasy and flinging herself madly into
+the whirl of pleasure it held out, was not so much her conscience
+and the ideals which she had formed more or less vaguely from the
+novels and poems she had read, as the instinct of her maidenhood,
+which made her shrink from the thought of marriage with a man whom
+she did not love. So strong was this feeling in her that at first
+she felt that she could not even bear to be introduced to him with
+such an idea in her mind.
+
+It was Aunt Polly's wisdom and diplomacy which finally overcame her
+scruples enough to persuade her to that first step; Helen kept
+thinking of her aunt's words--that no one wanted to compel her to
+marry the man, that she might do just as she chose. She argued that
+it was foolish to worry herself, or to be ill at ease. She might see
+what sort of a man he was; if he fell in love with her it would do
+no harm,--Helen was not long in discovering by the increased pace of
+her pulses that she would find it exciting to have everyone know
+that a multimillionaire was in love with her. “As for the rest,” she
+said to herself, “we'll see when the time comes,” and knew not that
+one who goes to front his life's temptation with that resolution is
+a mariner who leaves the steering of his vessel to the tempest.
+
+She had stilled her objection by such arguments, and was just
+beginning to feel the excitement of the prospect once more, when the
+maid knocked at the door and asked to know if mademoiselle were
+ready to dress for dinner. And mademoiselle arose and bathed her
+face and arms and was once more her old refreshed and rejoicing
+self, ready for that mysterious and wonderful process which was to
+send her out an hour or two later a vision of perfectness,
+compounded of the hues of the rose and the odors of evening, with
+the new and unutterable magic that is all the woman's own. Besides
+the prospects her aunt had spoken of, there were reasons enough why
+Helen should be radiant, for it was her first recognized appearance
+in high society; and so she sat in front of the tall mirror and
+criticised every detail of the coiffure which the maid prepared, and
+eyed by turns her gleaming neck and shoulders and the wonderful
+dress, as yet unworn, which shone from the bed through its covering
+of tissue paper; and was all the time so filled with joy and delight
+that it was a pleasure to be near her. Soon Aunt Polly, clad in
+plain black as a sign that she retired in favor of Helen, came in to
+assist and superintend the toilet. So serious at the task, and so
+filled with a sense of its importance and the issues that were
+staked upon it was she and the maid also, that one would not dare
+think of the humor of the situation if Helen herself had not broken
+the spell by declaring that she felt like an Ashantee warrior being
+decked out for battle with plumes and war paint, or like Rinaldo, or
+Amadis donning his armor.
+
+And Helen was in fact going to war, a war for which nature has been
+training woman since the first fig-tree grew. She carried a bow
+strong as the one of Ulysses, which no man could draw, and an arrow
+sharp as the sunbeam and armed with a barb; for a helmet, beside her
+treasure of golden hair, she wore one rose, set there with the art
+that conceals art, so that it was no longer a red rose, but one more
+bright perfection that had come to ripeness about the glowing
+maiden. Her dress was of the same color, a color which when worn
+upon a woman is a challenge, crying abroad that here is perfection
+beyond envy and beyond praise.
+
+When the last touch was finished and Helen gazed upon herself, with
+her bare shoulders and arms and her throat so soft and white, she
+knew that she was, compared to all about her, a vision from another
+world. Chiefest of all, she knew that neither arms and shoulders,
+nor robe, nor gleaming hair, would ever be thought of when once the
+face that smiled upon her with its serene perfectness had caught the
+eye; she knew that as usual, men must start when they saw her, and
+never take their eyes from her. The thought filled her with an
+exulting consciousness of power, and reared her form with a new
+dignity, and made her chest heave and her cheeks burn with yet a new
+beauty.
+
+When everything was ready, Aunt Polly's husband was called in to
+gaze upon her. A little man was Aunt Polly's husband, with black
+side whiskers and a head partly bald; a most quiet and unobtrusive
+person, looking just what he had been represented,--a “plain,
+sensible man,” who attended to his half of the family affairs, and
+left the other half to his wife. He gazed upon Helen and blinked
+once or twice, as if blinded by so much beauty, and then took the
+end of her fingers very lightly in his and pronounced her
+“absolutely perfect.” “And, my dear,” he added, “it's after seven,
+so perhaps we'd best descend.”
+
+So he led the girl down to her triumph, to the handsome parlors of
+the house where eight or ten men were strolling about. It was quite
+exciting to Helen to meet them, for they were all strangers, and
+Aunt Polly had apparently considered Mr. Harrison of so much
+importance that she had said nothing about the others, leaving her
+niece at liberty to make what speculations she pleased.
+
+It was a brilliant company which was seated in the dining room a
+short while later. As it was assembled in Helen's honor, Aunt Polly
+had taken care to bring those who would please the girl, and
+represent high life and luxury at its best; all of the guests were
+young, and therefore perfect. The members of the “smart set,” when
+they have passed the third decade, are apt to show signs of
+weariness; a little of their beauty and health is gone, and some of
+their animation, and all of their joy,--so that one may be led to
+ask himself if there be not really something wrong about their views
+and ways of living. When they are young, however, they represent the
+possibilities of the human animal in all things external. In some
+wonderful way known only to themselves they have managed to
+manipulate the laws of men so as to make men do for them all the
+hard and painful tasks of life, so that they have no care but to
+make themselves as beautiful and as clever and as generally
+excellent as selfishness can be. Helen, of course, was not in the
+least troubled about the selfishness, and she was quite satisfied
+with externals. She saw about her perfect toilets and perfect
+manners; she saw everyone as happy as she liked everyone to be; and
+the result was that her spirits took fire, and she was clever and
+fascinating beyond even herself. She carried everything before her,
+and performed the real feat of dominating the table by her beauty
+and cleveness, without being either presumptuous or vain. Aunt Polly
+replied to the delighted looks of her husband at the other end of
+the table, and the two only wished that Mr. Harrison had been there
+then.
+
+As a matter of fact, Helen had forgotten Mr. Harrison entirely, and
+he did not come back to her mind until the dinner was almost over,
+when suddenly she heard the bell ring. It was just the time that he
+was due to arrive, and so she knew that she would see him in another
+half hour. In the exultation of the present moment all of her
+hesitation was gone, and she was as ready to meet him as her aunt
+could have wished.
+
+When the party rose a few minutes later and went into the parlors
+again, Helen was the first to enter, upon the arm of her neighbor.
+She was thinking of Mr. Harrison; and as she glanced about her, she
+could not keep from giving a slight start. Far down at the other end
+of the room she had caught sight of the figure of a man, and her
+first thought had been that it must be the millionaire. His frail,
+slender form was more than half concealed by the cushions of the
+sofa upon which he was seated, but even so, Helen could discover
+that he was a slight cripple.
+
+The man rose as the party entered, and Aunt Polly went towards him;
+she apparently expected her niece to follow and be introduced to the
+stranger, but in the meantime the truth had occurred to Helen, that
+it must be the Mr. Howard she had been told of; she turned to one
+side with her partner, and began remarking the pictures in the room.
+
+When she found opportunity, she glanced over and saw that the man
+had seated himself on the sofa and was talking to Mrs. Roberts. He
+looked, as Helen thought, all the invalid her aunt had described him
+to be, for his face was white and very wan, so that it made her
+shudder. “Dear me!” she exclaimed to herself, “I don't think such a
+man ought to go into public.” And she turned resolutely away, and
+set herself to the task of forgetting him, which she very easily
+did.
+
+A merry party was soon gathered about her, rejoicing in the glory of
+her presence, and listening to the stories which she told of her
+adventures in Europe. Helen kept the circle well in hand that way,
+and was equally ready when one of the young ladies turned the
+conversation off upon French poetry in the hope of eclipsing her.
+Thus her animation continued without rest until Mrs. Roberts
+escorted one of the guests to the piano to sing for them.
+
+“She's keeping me for Mr. Harrison,” thought Helen, laughing
+mischievously to herself; “and I suppose she's picked out the worst
+musician first, so as to build up a climax.”
+
+It seemed as if that might have been the plan for a fact; the
+performer sang part of Gluck's “J'ai perdu mon Eurydice,” in strange
+French, and in a mournful voice which served very well to display
+the incompatibility of the melody and the words. As it happened,
+however, Mistress Helen heard not a word of the song, for it had
+scarcely begun before she turned her eyes towards the doorway and
+caught sight of a figure that drove all other ideas from her mind.
+Mr. Harrison had come at last.
+
+He was a tall, dignified man, and Helen's first feeling was of
+relief to discover that he was neither coarse-looking, nor even
+plain. He had rather too bright a complexion, and rather too large a
+sandy mustache, but his clothes fitted him, and he seemed to be at
+ease as he glanced about him and waited in the doorway for the young
+lady at the piano to finish. While the faint applause was still
+sounding he entered with Mrs. Roberts, moving slowly across the
+room. “And now!” thought Helen, “now for it!”
+
+As she expected, the two came towards her, and Mr. Harrison was
+presented; Helen, who was on the watch with all her faculties,
+decided that he bore that trial tolerably, for while his admiration
+of course showed itself, he did not stare, and he was not
+embarrassed.
+
+“I am a little late, I fear,” he said; “have I missed much of the
+music?”
+
+“No,” said Helen, “that was the first selection.”
+
+“I am glad of that,” said the other.
+
+According to the laws which regulate the drifting of conversation,
+it was next due that Helen should ask if he were fond of singing;
+and then that he should answer that he was very fond of it, which he
+did.
+
+“Mrs. Roberts tells me you are a skillful musician,” he added; “I
+trust that I shall hear you?”
+
+Helen of course meant to play, and had devoted some thought to the
+selection of her program; therefore she answered: “Possibly; we
+shall see by and by.”
+
+“I am told that you have been studying in Germany,” was the next
+observation. “Do you like Germany?”
+
+“Very much,” said Helen. “Only they made me work very hard at music,
+and at everything else.”
+
+“That is perhaps why you are a good player,” said Mr. Harrison.
+
+“You ought to wait until you hear me,” the girl replied, following
+his example of choosing the most obvious thing to say.
+
+“I fear I am not much of a critic,” said the other.
+
+And so the conversation drifted on for several minutes, Mr.
+Harrison's remarks being so very uninspiring that his companion
+could find no way to change the subject to anything worth talking
+about.
+
+“Evidently,” the girl thought, during a momentary lull, “he has
+learned all the rules of talking, and that's why he's at ease. But
+dear me, what an awful prospect! It would kill me to have to do this
+often. But then, to be sure I shan't see him in the day time, and in
+the evenings we should not be at home. One doesn't have to be too
+intimate with one's husband, I suppose. And then--”
+
+“I think,” said Mr. Harrison, “that your aunt is coming to ask you
+to play.”
+
+That was Aunt Polly's mission, for a fact, and Helen was much
+relieved, for she had found herself quite helpless to lift the
+conversation out of the slough of despond into which it had fallen;
+she wanted a little time to collect her faculties and think of
+something clever to start with again. When in answer to the request
+of Aunt Polly she arose and went to the piano, the crushed feeling
+of course left her, and her serenity returned; for Helen was at home
+at the piano, knowing that she could do whatever she chose, and do
+it without effort. It was a stimulus to her faculties to perceive
+that a general hush had fallen upon the room, and that every eye was
+upon her; as she sat down, therefore, all her old exultation was
+back.
+
+She paused a moment to collect herself, and gave one easy glance
+down the room at the groups of people. She caught a glimpse as she
+did so of Mr. Howard, who was still seated upon the sofa, leaning
+forward and resting his chin in his hand and fixing his eyes upon
+her. At another time the sight of his wan face might perhaps have
+annoyed the girl, but she was carried beyond that just then by the
+excitement of the moment; her glance came back to the piano, and
+feeling that everyone was attentive and expectant, she began.
+
+Helen numbered in her repertoire a good many pieces that were
+hopelessly beyond the technic of the average salon pianist, and she
+had chosen the most formidable with which to astonish her hearers
+that evening. She had her full share of that pleasure which people
+get from concerning themselves with great things: a pleasure which
+is responsible for much of the reading, and especially the
+discussing, of the world's great poets, and which brings forth many
+lofty sentiments from the numerous class of persons who combine
+idealism with vanity. Helen's selection was the first movement of
+the “Sonata Appassionata,” and she was filled with a pleasing sense
+of majesty and importance as she began. She liked the first theme
+especially because it was striking and dignified and never failed to
+attract attention; and in what followed there was room for every
+shading of tone, from delicate softness that showed much feeling and
+sympathy, to stunning fortissimos that made everyone stare. The girl
+was relieved of any possible fear by the certainty that the
+composition was completely beyond her hearers' understanding, and so
+she soon lost herself in her task, and, as her excitement mounted,
+played with splendid spirit and abandon. Her calculations proved
+entirely well made, for when she stopped she received a real
+ovation, having genuinely astonished her hearers; and she crossed
+the room, beaming radiantly upon everyone and acknowledging their
+compliments, more assured of triumph than ever before. To cap the
+climax, when she reached her seat she found Mr. Harrison betraying
+completely his profound admiration, his gaze being riveted upon the
+glowing girl as she sat down beside him.
+
+“Miss Davis,” he said, with evident sincerity, “that was really
+wonderful!”
+
+“Thank you very much,” said Helen, radiantly.
+
+“It was the most splendid piano playing I have ever heard in my life,”
+ the other went on. “Pray what was it that you played--something new?”
+
+“Oh, no,” was the answer, “it is very old indeed.”
+
+“Ah,” said Mr. Harrison, “those old composers were very great men.”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, demurely.
+
+“I was astonished to see with what ease you played,” the other
+continued, “and yet so marvelously fast! That must be a fearfully
+hard piece of music to play.”
+
+“Yes, it is,” said Helen; “but it is quite exciting,” she added,
+fanning herself and laughing.
+
+Helen was at the top of her being just then, and in perfect command
+of things; she had no idea of letting herself be dragged down into
+the commonplace again. “I think it's about time I was fascinating
+him,” she said to herself, and she started in, full of merriment and
+life. Taking her last remark as a cue, she told him funny stories
+about the eccentricities of the sonata's great composer, how he
+would storm and rage up and down his room like a madman, and how he
+hired a boy to pump water over his head by the hour, in case of
+emergency.
+
+Mr. Harrison remarked that it was funny how all musicians were such
+queer chaps, but even that did not discourage Helen. She rattled on,
+quite as supremely captivating as she had been at the dinner table,
+and as she saw that her companion was yielding to her spell, the
+color mounted to her cheeks and her blood flowed faster yet.
+
+It is of the nature of such flame to feed itself, and Helen grew the
+more exulting as she perceived her success,--and consequently all
+the more irresistible. The eyes of the man were soon riveted upon
+the gorgeous vision of loveliness before him, and the contagion of
+the girl's animation showed itself even in him, for he brightened a
+little, and was clever enough to startle himself. It was a new
+delight and stimulus to Helen to perceive it, and she was soon swept
+away in much the same kind of nervous delight as her phantasy with
+the thunderstorm. The sofa upon which the two were seated had been
+somewhat apart from the rest, and so they had nothing to disturb
+them. A short half hour fled by, during which Helen's daring
+animation ruled everything, and at the end of which Mr. Harrison was
+quite oblivious to everything about him.
+
+There were others, however, who were watching the affair; the
+keen-eyed Aunt Polly was comprehending all with joy, but she was as
+ever calculating and prudent, and she knew that Helen's monopoly of
+Mr. Harrison would soon become unpleasantly conspicuous, especially
+as she had so far introduced him to no one else. She felt that
+little would be lost by breaking the spell, for what the girl was
+doing then she might do any time she chose; and so after waiting a
+while longer she made her way unobtrusively over to them and joined
+their conversation.
+
+Helen of course understood her aunt's meaning, and acquiesced; she
+kept on laughing and talking for a minute or two more, and then at a
+lull in the conversation she exclaimed: “But I've been keeping Mr.
+Harrison here talking to me, and nobody else has seen anything of
+him.” And so Mr. Harrison, inwardly anathematizing the rest of the
+company, was compelled to go through a long series of handshakings,
+and finally to be drawn into a group of young persons whose
+conversation seemed to him the most inane he had ever heard in his
+life.
+
+In the meantime someone else was giving a piano selection, one which
+Helen had never heard, but which sounded to every one like a finger
+exercise after her own meteoric flight; the girl sat half listening
+to it and half waiting for her aunt to return, which Mrs. Roberts
+finally did, beaming with gratitude.
+
+“My love,” she whispered, “you are an angel; you have done better
+than I ever dreamed of!”
+
+And Helen felt her blood give a sudden leap that was not quite
+pleasant; the surging thoughts that were in her mind at that moment
+brought back the nervous trembling she had felt in the carriage, so
+that she leaned against the sofa for support.
+
+“Now listen, my dear,” the other went swiftly on, perhaps divining
+the girl's state, “I want you to do a great favor for me.”
+
+“Was not that for you, Auntie?” asked Helen, weakly.
+
+“No, my dear, that was for yourself. But this--”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“I want you to come and talk to my David Howard a little while.”
+
+The girl gave a start, and turned a little paler. “Aunt Polly,” she
+exclaimed, “not now! He looks so ill, it makes me nervous even to
+see him.”
+
+“But, Helen, my dear, that is nonsense,” was the reply. “Mr. Howard
+is one of the most interesting men you ever met. He knows more than
+all the people in this room together, and you will forget he is an
+invalid when you have talked to him a while.”
+
+Helen was, or wished to think herself, upon the heights of happiness
+just then, and she shrunk more than ever from anything that was
+wretched. “Not now, Aunt Polly,” she said, faintly. “Please wait
+until--”
+
+“But, my dear,” said Aunt Polly, “now is the very time; you will
+wish to be with Mr. Harrison again soon. And you must meet Mr.
+Howard, for that is what he came for.”
+
+“I suppose then I'll have to,” said Helen, knitting her brows; “I'll
+stroll over in a minute or two.”
+
+“All right,” said the other; “and please try to get acquainted with
+him, Helen, for I want you to like him.”
+
+“I will do my best,” said the girl. “He won't talk about his
+ailments, will he?”
+
+“No,” said the other, laughing, “I fancy not. Talk to him about
+music--he's a great musician, you know.”
+
+And as her aunt left the room, Helen stole a side glance at the man,
+who was alone upon the sofa just then. His chin was still resting in
+his hand, and he was looking at Helen as before. As she glanced at
+him thus he seemed to be all head, or rather all forehead, for his
+brow was very high and white, and was set off by heavy black hair.
+
+“He does look interesting,” the girl thought, as she forced a smile
+and walked across the room; her aunt entered at the same time, as if
+by accident, and the two approached Mr. Howard. As he saw them
+coming he rose, with some effort as Helen noticed, and with a very
+slight look of pain; it cost her some resolution to give the man her
+hand. In a minute or two more, however, they were seated alone upon
+the sofa, Aunt Polly having gone off with the remark to Helen that
+she had made Mr. Howard promise to talk to her about music, and that
+they both knew too much about it for her. “You must tell Helen all
+about her playing,” she added to him, laughingly.
+
+And then Helen, to carry on the conversation, added, “I should be
+very much pleased if you would.”
+
+“I am afraid it is an ungracious task Mrs. Roberts has chosen me,”
+ the man answered, smiling. “Critics are not a popular race.”
+
+“It depends upon the critics,” said Helen. “They must be sincere.”
+
+“That is just where they get into trouble,” was the response.
+
+“It looks as if he were going to be chary with his praise,” thought
+Helen, feeling just the least bit uncomfortable. She thought for a
+moment, and then said, not without truth, “You pique my curiosity,
+Mr. Howard.”
+
+“My criticism could not be technical,” said the other, smiling,
+again, “for I am not a pianist.”
+
+“You play some other instrument?” asked Helen; afterwards she added,
+mischievously, “or are you just a critic?”
+
+“I play the violin,” the man answered.
+
+“You are going to play for us this evening?”
+
+“No,” said the other, “I fear I shall not.”
+
+“Why not?” Helen inquired.
+
+“I have not been feeling very well to-day,” was the response. “But I
+have promised your aunt to play some evening; we had quite a long
+dispute.”
+
+“You do not like to play in public?” asked Helen.
+
+The question was a perfectly natural one, but it happened
+unfortunately that as the girl asked it her glance rested upon the
+figure of her companion. The man chanced to look at her at the same
+instant, and she saw in a flash that her thought had been misread.
+Helen colored with the most painful mortification; but Mr. Howard
+gave, to her surprise, no sign of offense.
+
+“No, not in general,” he said, with simple dignity. “I believe that
+I am much better equipped as a listener.”
+
+Helen had never seen more perfect self-possession than that, and she
+felt quite humbled.
+
+It would have been difficult to guess the age of the man beside her,
+but Helen noticed that his hair was slightly gray. A closer view had
+only served to strengthen her first impression of him, that he was
+all head, and she found herself thinking that if that had been all
+of him he might have been handsome, tho in a strange, uncomfortable
+way. The broad forehead seemed more prominent than ever, and the
+dark eyes seemed fairly to shine from beneath it. The rest of the
+face, tho wan, was as powerful and massive as the brow, and seemed
+to Helen, little used as she was to think of such things, to
+indicate character as well as suffering.
+
+“It looks a little like Arthur's,” she thought.
+
+This she had been noticing in the course of the conversation; then,
+because her curiosity had really been piqued, she brought back the
+original topic again. “You have not told me about my playing,” she
+smiled, “and I wish for your opinion. I am very vain, you know.”
+ (There is wisdom in avowing a weakness which you wish others to
+think you do not possess.)
+
+“It gave me great pleasure to watch you,” said the man, after a
+moment.
+
+“To watch me!” thought Helen. “That is a palpable evasion. That is
+not criticising my music itself,” she said aloud, not showing that
+she was a trifle annoyed.
+
+“You have evidently been very well taught,” said the
+other,--“unusually well; and you have a very considerable technic.”
+ And Helen was only more uncomfortable than ever; evidently the man
+would have liked to add a “but” to that sentence, and the girl felt
+as if she had come near an icicle in the course of her evening's
+triumph. However, she was now still more curious to hear the rest of
+his opinion. Half convinced yet that it must be favorable in the
+end, she said:
+
+“I should not in the least mind your speaking plainly; the
+admiration of people who do not understand music I really do not
+care for.” And then as Mr. Howard fixed his deep, clear eyes upon
+her, Helen involuntarily lowered hers a little.
+
+“If you really want my opinion,” said the other, “you shall have it.
+But you must remember that it is yourself who leads me to the bad
+taste of being serious in company.”
+
+That last remark was in Helen's own style, and she looked
+interested. For the rest, she felt that she had gotten into grave
+trouble by her question; but it was too late to retreat now.
+
+“I will excuse you,” she said. “I wish to know.”
+
+“Very well, then,” said Mr. Howard; “the truth is that I did not
+care for your selection.”
+
+Helen gave a slight start. “If that is all the trouble, I need not
+worry,” she thought; and she added easily, “The sonata is usually
+considered one of Beethoven's very greatest works, Mr. Howard.”
+
+“I am aware of that,” said the other; “but do you know how Beethoven
+came to compose it?”
+
+Helen had the happy feeling of a person of moderate resources when
+the conversation turns to one of his specialties. “Yes,” she said;
+“I have read how he said 'So pocht das Schicksal auf die Pforte.'
+[Footnote: “So knocks Fate upon the door.”] Do you understand that,
+Mr. Howard?”
+
+“Only partly,” said the other, very gently; “do you?” And Helen felt
+just then that she had made a very awkward blunder indeed.
+
+“Fate is a very dreadful thing to understand, Miss Davis,” the other
+continued, slowly. “When one has heard the knock, he does not forget
+it, and even the echo of it makes him tremble.”
+
+“I suppose then,” said Helen, glibly, trying to save herself, “that
+you think the sonata is too serious to be played in public?”
+
+“Not exactly,” was the answer; “it depends upon the circumstances.
+There are always three persons concerned, you know. In this case, as
+you have pardoned me for being serious, there is in the first place
+the great genius with his sacred message; you know how he learned
+that his life work was to be ruined by deafness, and how he poured
+his agony and despair into his greatest symphony, and into this
+sonata. That is the first person, Miss Davis.”
+
+He paused for a moment; and Helen took a deep breath, thinking that
+it was the strangest conversation she had ever been called upon to
+listen to during an evening's merriment. Yet she did not smile, for
+the man's deep, resonant voice fascinated her.
+
+“And the second?” she asked.
+
+“The second,” said Mr. Howard, turning his dark, sunken eyes full
+upon the girl, “is another man, not a genius, but one who has
+suffered, I fear, nearly as much as one; a man who is very hungry
+for beauty, and very impatient of insincerity, and who is accustomed
+to look to the great masters of art for all his help and courage.”
+
+Helen felt very uncomfortable indeed.
+
+“Evidently,” she said, “I am the third.”
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Howard, “the pianist is the third. It is the
+pianist's place to take the great work and live it, and study it
+until he knows all that it means; and then--”
+
+“I don't think I took it quite so seriously as that,” said Helen,
+with a poor attempt at humility.
+
+“No,” said Mr. Howard, gravely; “it was made evident to me that you
+did not by every note you played; for you treated it as if it had
+been a Liszt show-piece.”
+
+Helen was of course exceedingly angry at those last blunt words; but
+she was too proud to let her vexation be observed. She felt that she
+had gotten herself into the difficulty by asking for serious
+criticism, for deep in her heart she knew that it was true, and that
+she would never have dared to play the sonata had she known that a
+musician was present. Helen felt completely humiliated, her few
+minutes' conversation having been enough to put her out of humor
+with herself and all of her surroundings. There was a long silence,
+in which she had time to think of what she had heard; she felt in
+spite of herself the folly of what she had done, and her whole
+triumph had suddenly come to look very small indeed; yet, as was
+natural, she felt only anger against the man who had broken the
+spell and destroyed her illusion. She was only the more irritated
+because she could not find any ground upon which to blame him.
+
+It would have been very difficult for her to have carried on the
+conversation after that. Fortunately a diversion occurred, the young
+person who had last played having gone to the piano again, this time
+with a young man and a violin.
+
+“Aunt Polly has found someone to take your place,” said Helen,
+forcing a smile.
+
+“Yes,” said the other, “she told me we had another violinist.”
+
+The violinist played Raff's Cavatina, a thing with which fiddlers
+all love to exhibit themselves; he played it just a little off the
+key at times, as Helen might have told by watching her companion's
+eyebrows. She in the meantime was trying to recover her equanimity,
+and to think what else she could say. “He's the most uncomfortable
+man I ever met,” she thought with vexation. “I wish I'd insisted
+upon keeping away from him!”
+
+However, Helen was again relieved from her plight by the fact that
+as the fiddler stopped and the faint applause died out, she saw Mr.
+Harrison coming towards her. Mr. Harrison had somehow succeeded in
+extricating himself from the difficulty in which his hostess had
+placed him, and had no doubt guessed that Helen was no better
+pleased with her new companion.
+
+“May I join you?” he asked, as he neared the sofa.
+
+“Certainly,” said Helen, smiling; she introduced the two men, and
+Mr. Harrison sat down upon the other side of the girl. Somehow or
+other he seemed less endurable than he had just before, for his
+voice was not as soft as Mr. Howard's, and now that Helen's
+animation was gone she was again aware of the millionaire's very
+limited attainments.
+
+“That was a very interesting thing we just heard,” he said. “What
+was it? Do you know?”
+
+Helen answered that it was Raff's Cavatina.
+
+“Cavatina?” said Mr. Harrison. “The name sounds familiar; I may have
+heard it before.”
+
+Helen glanced nervously at Mr. Howard; but the latter gave no sign.
+
+“Mr. Howard is himself a violinist,” she said. “We must be careful
+what criticisms we make.”
+
+“Oh, I do not make any--I do not know enough about it,” said the
+other, with heartiness which somehow seemed to Helen to fail of
+deserving the palliating epithet of “bluff.”
+
+“Mr. Howard has just been telling me about my own playing,” Helen
+went on, growing a little desperate.
+
+“I hope he admired it as much as I did,” said the unfortunate
+railroad-president.
+
+“I'm afraid he didn't,” said Helen, trying to turn the matter into a
+laugh.
+
+“He didn't!” exclaimed Mr. Harrison, in surprise. “Pray, why not?”
+
+He asked the question of Mr. Howard, and Helen shuddered, for fear
+he might begin with that dreadful “There are always three persons
+concerned, you know.” But the man merely said, very quietly, “My
+criticism was of rather a technical nature, Mr. Harrison.”
+
+“I'm sure, for my part I thought her playing wonderful,” said the
+gentleman from Cincinnati, to which the other did not reply.
+
+Helen felt herself between two fires and her vexation was increasing
+every moment; yet, try as she might, she could not think of anything
+to change the subject, and it was fortunate that the watchful Aunt
+Polly was on hand to save her. Mrs. Roberts was too diplomatic a
+person not to see the unwisdom of putting Mr. Harrison in a position
+where his deficiencies must be so very apparent, and so she came
+over, determined to carry one of the two men away. She was relieved
+of the trouble by the fact that, as she came near, Mr. Howard rose,
+again with some pain as it seemed to Helen, and asked the girl to
+excuse him. “I have been feeling quite ill today,” he explained.
+
+Helen, as she saw him walk away with Mrs. Roberts, sank back with a
+sigh which was only half restrained. “A very peculiar person,” said
+Mr. Harrison, who was clever enough to divine her vexation.”
+
+“Yes,” said the girl, “very, indeed.”
+
+“He seemed to be lecturing you about something, from what I saw,”
+ added the other. The remark was far from being in the best taste,
+but it pleased Helen, because it went to justify her to herself, and
+at the same time offered her an opportunity to vent her feelings.
+
+“Yes,” she said. “It was about music; he was very much displeased
+with me.”
+
+“So!” exclaimed Mr. Harrison. “I hope you do not let that disturb
+you?”
+
+“No,” said the girl, laughing,--“or at any rate, I shall soon
+recover my equanimity. It is very hard to please a man who plays
+himself, you know.”
+
+“Or who says he plays,” observed Mr. Harrison. “He _didn't_ play,
+you notice.”
+
+Helen was pleased to fancy that there might be wisdom in the remark.
+“Let us change the subject,” she said more cheerfully. “It is best
+to forget things that make one feel uncomfortable.”
+
+“I'll leave the finding of a new topic to you,” replied the other,
+with graciousness which did a little more to restore Helen's
+self-esteem. “I have a very humble opinion of my own conversation.”
+
+“Do you like mine?” the girl asked with a laugh.
+
+“I do, indeed,” said Mr. Harrison with equally pleasing frankness.
+“I was as interested as could be in the story that you were telling
+me when we were stopped.”
+
+“Well, we'll begin where we left off!” exclaimed Helen, and felt as
+if she had suddenly discovered a doorway leading from a prison. She
+found it easy to forget the recent events after that, and Mr.
+Harrison grew more tolerable to her every moment now that the other
+was gone; her self-possession came back to her quickly as she read
+his admiration in his eyes. Besides that, it was impossible to
+forget for very long that Mr. Harrison was a multi-millionaire, and
+the object of the envious glances of every other girl in the room;
+and so when Aunt Polly returned a while later she found the
+conversation between the two progressing very well, and in fact
+almost as much enjoyed by both as it had been the first time. After
+waiting a few minutes she came to ask Helen to sing for the company,
+a treat which she had reserved until the last.
+
+Helen's buoyant nature had by that time flung all her doubts behind
+her, and this last excitement was all that was needed to sweep her
+away entirely again. She went to the piano as exulting as ever in
+her command of it and in the homage which it brought her. She sang
+an arrangement of the “Preislied,” and she sang it with all the
+energy and enthusiasm she possessed; partly because she had a really
+good voice and enjoyed the song, and partly because an audience
+appreciates singing more easily than any other kind of music. She
+really scored the success of the evening. Everybody was as
+enthusiastic as the limits of good taste allowed, and Helen was
+compelled, not in the least against her will, to sing again and
+again. While she was laughing with happiness and triumph, something
+brought, back “Wohin” to her mind, and she sang it again, quite as
+gaily as she had sung it by the streamlet with Arthur. It was enough
+to delight even the dullest, and perhaps if Mr. Howard had been
+there even he would have applauded a little.
+
+At any rate, as Helen rose from the piano she received a complete
+ovation, everyone coming to her to thank her and to praise her, and
+to share in the joy of her beauty; she herself had never been more
+radiant and more exulting in all her exulting life, drinking in even
+Mr. Harrison's rapturous compliments and finding nothing exaggerated
+in them. And in the meantime, Aunt Polly having suggested a waltz to
+close the festivities, the furniture was rapidly moved to one side,
+and the hostess herself took her seat at the piano and struck up the
+“Invitation to the Dance;” Mr. Harrison, who had been at Helen's
+side since her singing had ceased, was of course her partner, and
+the girl, flushed and excited by all the homage she had received,
+was soon waltzing delightedly in his arms. The man danced well,
+fortunately for him, and that he was the beautiful girl's ardent
+admirer was by this time evident, not only to Helen, but to everyone
+else.
+
+In the mood that she was then, the fact was as welcome to her as it
+could possibly have been, and when, therefore, Mr. Harrison kept her
+arm and begged for the next dance, and the next in turn, Helen was
+sufficiently carried away to have no wish to refuse him; when after
+the third dance she was tired out and sat down to rest, Mr. Harrison
+was still her companion.
+
+Helen was at the very height of her happiness then, every trace of
+her former vexation gone, and likewise every trace of her objections
+to the man beside her. The music was still sounding merrily, and
+everyone else was dancing, so that her animation did not seem at all
+out of taste; and so brilliant and fascinating had she become, and
+so completely enraptured was Mr. Harrison, that he would probably
+have capitulated then and there if the dancing had not ceased and
+the company separated when it did. The end of all the excitement was
+a great disappointment to Helen; she was completely happy just then,
+and would have gone just as far as the stream had carried her. It
+being her first social experience was probably the reason that she
+was less easily wearied than the rest; and besides, when one has
+thus yielded to the sway of the senses, he dreads instinctively the
+subsiding of the excitement and the awakening of reason.
+
+The awakening, however, is one that must always come; Helen, having
+sent away the maid, suddenly found herself standing alone in the
+middle of her own room gazing at herself in the glass, and seeing a
+frightened look in her eyes. The merry laughter of the guests ceased
+gradually, and silence settled about the halls of the great house;
+but even then Helen did not move. She was standing there still when
+her aunt came into the room.
+
+Mrs. Roberts was about as excited as was possible in a matron of her
+age and dignity; she flung her arms rapturously around Helen, and
+clasped her to her. “My dear,” she cried, “it was a triumph!”
+
+“Yes, Auntie,” said Helen, weakly.
+
+“You dear child, you!” went on the other, laughing; “I don't believe
+you realize it yet! Do you know, Helen, that Mr. Harrison is madly
+in love with you? You ought to be the happiest girl in the land
+tonight!”
+
+“Yes, Auntie,” said Helen again, still more weakly.
+
+“Come here, my dear,” said Mrs. Roberts, drawing her gently over to
+the bed and sitting down beside her; “you are a little dazed, I
+fancy, and I do not blame you. I should have been beside myself at
+your age if such a thing had happened to me; do you realize, child,
+what a fortune like Mr. Harrison's is?”
+
+“No,” said Helen, “it is very hard, Aunt Polly. I'm afraid about it;
+I must have some time to think.”
+
+“Think!” laughed the other. “You queer child! My dear, do you
+actually mean that you could think of refusing this chance of your
+lifetime?”
+
+“I don't know,” said Helen, trembling; “I don't--”
+
+“Everybody'd think you were crazy, child! I know I should, for one.”
+ And she added, coaxingly, “Let me tell you what Mr. Roberts said.”
+
+“What, Auntie?”
+
+“He sent you in this message; he's a great person for doing generous
+things, when he takes it into his head. He told me to tell you that
+if you'd accept Mr. Harrison's offer he would give you the finest
+trousseau that he could buy. Wasn't that splendid of him?”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, “thank him for me;” and she shuddered. “Don't
+talk to me any more about it now, tho,” she pleaded. “Please don't,
+Aunt Polly. I was so excited, and it was all like a dream, and I'm
+half dazed now; I can't think about it, and I must think, somehow!
+It's too dreadful!”
+
+“You shan't think about it tonight, child,” laughed the other, “for
+I want you to sleep and be beautiful tomorrow. See,” she added,
+beginning to unfasten Helen's dress, “I'm going to be your little
+mother tonight, and put you to bed.”
+
+And so, soothing the girl and kissing her burning forehead and
+trying to laugh away her fears, her delighted protectress undressed
+her, and did not leave her until she had seen her in bed and kissed
+her again. “And promise me, child,” she said, “that you won't worry
+yourself tonight. Go to sleep, and you'll have time to think
+tomorrow.”
+
+Helen promised that she would; but she did not keep her promise. She
+heard the great clock in the hallway strike many times, and when the
+darkest hours of the night had passed she was sitting up in bed and
+gazing about her at the gray shadows in the room, holding the
+covering tightly about her, because she was very cold; she was
+muttering nervously to herself, half deliriously: “No, no, I will
+not do it! They shall not _make_ me do it! I must have time to
+think.”
+
+And when at last she fell into a restless slumber, that thought was
+still in her mind, and those words upon her lips: “I will not do it;
+I must have time to think!”
+
+[Music: The opening passage of Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+  “And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
+  What them shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee; and
+  My strong imagination sees a crown
+  Dropping upon thy head.”
+
+When Helen awoke upon the following morning, the resolution to
+withstand her aunt's urging was still strong within her; as she
+strove to bring back the swift events of the night before, the first
+discovery she made was a headache and a feeling of weariness and
+dissatisfaction that was new to her. She arose and looked in the
+glass, and seeing that she was pale, vowed again, “They shall not
+torment me in this way! I do not even mean that he shall propose to
+me; I must have time to realize it!”
+
+And so firm was she in her own mind that she rang the bell and sent
+the maid to call her aunt. It was then only nine o'clock in the
+morning, and Helen presumed that neither Mrs. Roberts nor any of the
+other guests would be awake, they not being fresh from boarding
+school as she was; but the girl was so nervous and restless, and so
+weighed upon by her urgent resolution, that she felt she could do
+nothing else until she had declared it and gotten rid of the matter.
+“I'm going to tell her once for all,” she vowed; “they shall not
+torment me any more.”
+
+It turned out, however, that Mrs. Roberts had been up and dressed a
+considerable time,--for a reason which, when Helen learned it,
+prevented her delivering so quickly the speech she had upon her
+mind; she noticed a worried expression upon her aunt's face as soon
+as the latter came into the room.
+
+“What is the matter?” she asked, in some surprise.
+
+“A very dreadful misfortune, my dear,” said Mrs. Roberts; “I don't
+know how to tell you, you'll be so put out.”
+
+Helen was quite alarmed as she saw her aunt sink down into a chair;
+but then it flashed over her that Mr. Harrison might have for some
+reason been called away.
+
+“What is it? Tell me!” she asked eagerly.
+
+“It's Mr. Howard, my dear,” said the other; and Helen frowned.
+
+“Oh, bother!” she cried; “what about him?”
+
+“He's been ill during the night,” replied Aunt Polly.
+
+“Ill!” exclaimed Helen. “Dear me, what a nuisance!”
+
+“Poor man,” said the other, deprecatingly; “he cannot help it.”
+
+“Yes,” exclaimed Helen, “but he ought not to be here. What is the
+matter with him?”
+
+“I don't know,” was the reply, “but he has been suffering so all
+night that the doctor has had to give him an opiate.”
+
+The wan countenance of Mr. Howard rose up before Helen just then,
+and she shuddered inwardly.
+
+“Dear me, what a state of affairs!” she exclaimed. “It seems to me
+as if I were to have nothing but fright and worry. Why should there
+be such things in the world?”
+
+“I don't know, Helen,” said the other, “but it is certainly
+inopportune for you. Of course the company will all have to leave.”
+
+“To leave!” echoed Helen; she had never once thought of that.
+
+“Why, of course,” said her aunt. “It would not be possible to enjoy
+ourselves under such very dreadful circumstances.”
+
+“But, Aunt Polly, that is a shame!” cried the girl. “The idea of so
+many people being inconvenienced for such a cause. Can't he be
+moved?”
+
+“The doctor declares it would be impossible at present, Helen, and
+it would not look right anyway, you know. He will certainly have to
+remain until he is better.”
+
+“And how long will that be?”
+
+“A week, or perhaps more,” was the reply.
+
+And Helen saw that her promised holiday was ruined; her emotions,
+however, were not all of disappointment, for though she was vexed at
+the interruptions, she recollected with sudden relief that she could
+thus obtain, and without so much effort of her own, the time to
+debate the problem of Mr. Harrison. Also there was in her mind, if
+not exactly pity for the invalid, at any rate the nearest to it that
+Helen had ever learned to feel, an uncomfortable fright at the idea
+of such suffering.
+
+“I promise you,” said Aunt Polly, who had been watching her face and
+trying to read her emotions, “that we shall only postpone the good
+time I meant to give you. You cannot possibly be more vexed about it
+than I, for I was rejoicing in your triumph with Mr. Harrison.”
+
+“I'm not worrying on that account,” said Helen, angrily.
+
+“Helen, dear,” said Mrs. Roberts, pleadingly, “what can be the
+matter with you? I think anyone who was watching you and me would
+get the idea that I was the one to whom the fortune is coming. I
+suppose that was only one of your jokes, my dear, but I truly don't
+think you show a realization of what a tremendous opportunity you
+have. You show much more lack of experience than I had any idea
+could be possible.”
+
+“It isn't that, Aunt Polly,” protested Helen; “I realize it, but I
+want time to think.”
+
+“To think, Helen! But what is there to think? It seems to be madness
+to trifle with such a chance.”
+
+“Will it be trifling to keep him waiting a while?” asked Helen,
+laughing in spite of her vexation.
+
+“Maybe not, my dear; but you ought to know that every other girl in
+this house would snap him up at one second's notice. If you'd only
+seen them watching you last night as I did.”
+
+“I saw a little,” was the reply. “But, Aunt Polly, is Mr. Harrison
+the only man whom I can find?”
+
+“My husband and I have been over the list of our acquaintances, and
+not found anyone that can be compared with him for an instant,
+Helen. We know of no one that would do for you that has half as much
+money.”
+
+“I never said _he'd_ do for me,” said Helen, again laughing.
+“Understand me, Auntie,” she added; “it isn't that I'd not like the
+fortune! If I could get it without its attachment--”
+
+“But, my dear, you know you can never get any wealth except by
+marriage; what is the use of talking such nonsense, even in fun?”
+
+“But, listen,” objected Helen in turn; “suppose I don't want such a
+great fortune--suppose I should marry one of these other men?”
+
+“Helen, if you only could know as much as I know about these
+things,” said Mrs. Roberts, “if you only could know the difference
+between being in the middle and at the top of the social ladder!
+Dear, why will you choose anything but the best when you can have
+the best if you want it? I tell you once for all I do not care how
+clever you are, or how beautiful you are, the great people will look
+down on you for an upstart if you cannot match them and make just as
+much of a show. And why can you not discover what your own tastes
+are? I watched you last night, child; anyone could have seen that
+you were in your element! You outshone everyone, Helen, and you
+should do just the same all your life. Can you not see just what
+that means to you?”
+
+“Yes, Auntie,” said Helen, “but then--”
+
+“Were you not perfectly happy last night?” interrupted the other.
+
+“No,” protested the other, “that's just what I was going to say.”
+
+“The only reason in the world why you are not, my dear, is that you
+were tormenting yourself with foolish scruples. Can you not see that
+if you once had the courage to rid yourself of them it would be all
+that you need. Why are you so weak, Helen?”
+
+“It is not weak!” exclaimed the other.
+
+“Yes,” asserted Mrs. Roberts, “I say it is weak. It is weak of you
+not to comprehend what your life is to be, and what you need for
+your happiness. It is a shame for you to make no use of the glorious
+gifts that are yours, and to cramp and hinder all your own progress.
+I want you to have room to show your true powers, Helen!”
+
+Helen had been leaning over the foot of the bed listening to her
+aunt, stirred again by all her old emotion, and angry with herself
+for being stirred; her unspoken resolution was not quite so steady
+as it had been, tho like all good resolutions it remained in her
+mind to torment her.
+
+She sprang up suddenly with a very nervous and forced laugh. “I'm
+glad I don't have to argue with you, Auntie,” she said, “and that
+I'm saved the trouble of worrying myself ill. You see the Fates are
+on my side,--I must have time to think, whether I want to or not.”
+ It was that comfort which saved her from further struggle with
+herself upon the subject. (Helen much preferred being happy to
+struggling.) She set hurriedly to work to dress, for her aunt told
+her that the guests were nearly ready for breakfast.
+
+“Nobody could sleep since all the excitement,” she said. “I wonder
+it did not wake you.”
+
+“I was tired,” said Helen; “I guess that was it.”
+
+“You'll find the breakfast rather a sombre repast,” added Mrs.
+Roberts, pathetically. “I've been up nearly three hours myself, so
+frightened about poor Mr. Howard; I had neveer seen anyone so
+dreadfully ill, and I was quite certain he was in his death agony.”
+
+“Aunt Polly!” cried Helen with a sudden wild start, “why do you talk
+like that?”
+
+“I won't say any more about it,” was the reply, “only hurry up. And
+put on your best looks, my dear, for Mr. Harrison to carry away in
+his memory.”
+
+“I'll do that much with pleasure,” was the answer; “and please have
+the maid come up to pack my trunks again; for you won't want me to
+stay now, of course.”
+
+“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Roberts, “not unless you want to. Our house
+won't be a very cheerful place, I fear.”
+
+“I'll come back in a week or two, when you are ready for me,” Helen
+added; “in the meantime I can be thinking about Mr. Harrison.”
+
+Helen was soon on her way downstairs, for it was terrifying to her
+to be alone and in the neighborhood of Mr. Howard. She found a
+sombre gathering indeed, for the guests spoke to each other only in
+half-whispers, and there were few smiles to be seen. Helen found
+herself placed opposite Mr. Harrison at the table, and she had a
+chance to study him by glances through the meal. “He's well dressed,
+anyway,” she mused, “and he isn't altogether bad. I wonder if I'd
+_dare_ to marry him.”
+
+After breakfast Helen strolled out upon the piazza, perhaps with
+some purpose in her mind; for it is not unpleasant to toy with a
+temptation, even when one means to resist it. At any rate, she was a
+little excited when she heard Mr. Harrison coming out to join her
+there.
+
+“Rather a sad ending of our little party, wasn't it, Miss Davis?” he
+said.
+
+“Yes,” answered the girl, “I feel so sorry for poor Mr. Howard.”
+
+“He seemed to be rather ill last night,” said the other. He was
+going to add that the fact perhaps accounted for the invalid's
+severity, but he was afraid of shocking Helen by his levity,--a not
+entirely necessary precaution, unfortunately.
+
+“You are going back to town this morning, with the others?” Helen
+asked.
+
+“No,” said Mr. Harrison, somewhat to her surprise; “I have a
+different plan.”
+
+“Good Heavens, does he suppose he's going to stay here with me?”
+ thought the girl.
+
+“I received your aunt's permission to ask you,” continued Mr.
+Harrison, “and so I need only yours.”
+
+“For what?” Helen inquired, with varied emotions.
+
+“To drive you over to Oakdale with my rig,” said the other. “I had
+it brought down, you know, because I thought there might be a chance
+to use it.”
+
+Helen had turned slightly paler, and was staring in front of her.
+
+“Are you not fond of driving, then, Miss Davis?” asked the other, as
+she hesitated.
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, “but I don't like to trouble you--”
+
+“I assure you it will be the greatest pleasure in the world,” said
+Mr. Harrison; “I only regret that I shall not be able to see more of
+you, Miss Davis; it is only for the present, I hope.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Helen, still very faintly.
+
+“And I have a pair of horses that I am rather proud of,” added Mr.
+Harrison, laughing; “I should like you to tell me what you think of
+them. Will you give me the pleasure?”
+
+And Helen could not hesitate very much longer without being rude.
+“If you really wish it, Mr. Harrison,” she said, “very well.” And
+then someone else came out on the piazza and cut short the
+conversation; Helen had no time to think any more about the matter,
+but she had a disagreeable consciousness that her blood was flowing
+faster again, and that her old agitation was back in all its
+strength. Soon afterwards Mrs. Roberts came out and joined the two.
+
+“Miss Davis has granted me the very great favor,” said Mr. Harrison;
+“I fear I shall be happier than I ought to be, considering what
+suffering I leave behind.”
+
+“It will do no good to worry about it,” said Mrs. Roberts, a
+reflection which often keeps the world from wasting its sympathy. “I
+shall have your carriage brought round.”
+
+“Isn't it rather early to start?” asked Helen.
+
+“I don't know,” said her aunt; “is it?”
+
+“We can take a little drive if it is,” said Mr. Harrison; “I mean
+that Miss Davis shall think a great deal of my horses.”
+
+Helen said nothing, but stood gazing in front of her across the
+lawns, her mind in a tempest of emotions. She could not put away
+from her the excitement that Mr. Harrison's presence brought; the
+visions of wealth and power which gleamed before her almost
+overwhelmed her with their vastness. But she had also the memory of
+her morning resolve to trouble her conscience; the result was the
+same confused helplessness, the dazed and frightened feeling which
+she so rebelled against.
+
+“I do not _want_ to be troubled in this way,” she muttered angrily
+to herself, again and again; “I wish to be let alone, so that I can
+be happy!”
+
+Yet there was no chance just then for her to find an instant's
+peace, or time for further thought; there were half a dozen people
+about her, and she was compelled to listen to and answer commonplace
+remarks about the beauty of the country in front of her, and about
+her singing on the previous evening.
+
+She had to stifle her agitation as best she could, and almost before
+she realized it her aunt had come to summon her to get ready for the
+drive.
+
+Helen hoped to have a moment's quiet then; but there was nothing to
+be done but put on her hat and gloves, and Mrs. Roberts was with her
+all the time. “Helen,” she said pleadingly, as she watched the girl
+surveying herself in the glass, “I do hope you will not forget all
+that I told you.”
+
+“I wish you would let me alone about it!” cried Helen, very
+peevishly.
+
+“If you only knew, my dear girl, how much I have done for you,”
+ replied the other, “and how I've planned and looked forward to this
+time, I don't think you'd answer me in that way.”
+
+“It isn't that, Aunt Polly,” exclaimed Helen, “but I am so confused
+and I don't know what to think.”
+
+“I am trying my poor, humble best to show you what to think. And you
+could not possibly feel more worried than I just now; Helen, you
+could be rid of all these doubts and struggles in one instant, if
+you chose. Ask yourself if it is not true; you have only to give
+yourself into the arms of the happiness that calls you. And you
+never will get rid of the matter in any other way,--indeed you will
+not! If you should fling away this chance, the memory of it would
+never leave you all your life; after you knew it was too late, you
+would torment yourself a thousand times more than ever you can now.”
+
+“Oh, dear, dear!” cried Helen, half hysterically; “I can't stand
+that, Aunt Polly. I'll do anything, only let me alone! My head is
+aching to split, and I don't know where I am.”
+
+“And you will never find another chance like it, Helen,” went on the
+other, with sledge-hammer remorselessness. “For if you behave in
+this perfectly insane way and lose this opportunity, I shall simply
+give you up in despair at your perversity.”
+
+“But I haven't said I was going to lose it,” the girl exclaimed. “He
+won't be any the less in love with me if I make him wait, Aunt
+Polly!--”
+
+“Mr. Harrison was going back to Cincinnati in a day or two,” put in
+Mrs. Roberts, swiftly.
+
+“He will stay if I wish him to,” was the girl's reply. “There is no
+need for so much worry; one would think I was getting old.”
+
+“Old!” laughed the other. “You are so beautiful this morning, Helen,
+that I could fall in love with you myself.” She turned the girl
+towards her, seeing that her toilet was finished. “I haven't a
+thought in the world, dear, but to keep you so beautiful,” she said;
+“I hate to see you tormenting yourself and making yourself so pale;
+why will you not take my advice and fling all these worries aside
+and let yourself be happy? That is all I want you to do, and it is
+so easy! Why is it that you do not want to be happy? I like to see
+you smile, Helen!” And Helen, who was tired of struggling, made a
+wry attempt to oblige her, and then broke into a laugh at herself.
+Meanwhile the other picked a rose from a great bunch of them that
+lay upon the bureau, and pinned it upon her dress.
+
+“There, child,” she, said, “he can never resist you now, I know!”
+
+Helen kissed her excitedly upon the cheek, and darted quickly out of
+the door, singing, in a brave attempt to bring back her old, merry
+self:--
+
+“The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la-la, Have nothing to do
+with the case.”
+
+A moment later, however, she recollected Mr. Howard and his
+misfortune, and her heart sank; she ran quickly down the steps to
+get the thought of him from her mind.
+
+It was easy enough to forget him and all other troubles as well when
+she was once outside upon the piazza; for there were plenty of happy
+people, and everyone crowded about her to bid her good-by. There too
+was Mr. Harrison standing upon the steps waiting for her, and there
+was his driving-cart with two magnificent black horses, alert and
+eager for the sport. Helen was not much of a judge of horses, having
+never had one of her own to drive, but she had the eye of a person
+of aristocratic tastes for what was in good form, and she saw that
+Mr. Harrison's turnout was all of that, with another attraction for
+her, that it was daring; for the horses were lithe, restless
+creatures, thoroughbreds, both of them; and it looked as if they had
+not been out of the stable in a week. They were giving the groom who
+held them all that he could do.
+
+Mr. Harrison held out his hand to the girl as she came down the
+steps, and eyed her keenly to see if her flushed cheeks would betray
+any sign of fear. But Helen's emotions were surging too strongly for
+such thoughts, and she had, besides, a little of the thoroughbred
+nature herself. She laughed gaily as she gave her hand to her
+companion and sprang into the wagon; he followed her, and as he took
+the reins the groom sprang aside and the two horses bounded away
+down the broad avenue. Helen turned once to wave her hand in answer
+to the chorus of good-bys that sounded from the porch, and then she
+faced about and sank back into the seat and drank in with delight
+the fresh morning breeze that blew in her face.
+
+“Oh, I think this is fine!” she cried.
+
+“You like driving, then?” asked the other.
+
+“Yes indeed,” was the reply. “I like this kind ever so much.”
+
+“Wait until we get out on the high-road,” said Mr. Harrison, “and
+then we will see what we can do. I came from the West, you know,
+Miss Davis, so I think I am wise on the subject of horses.”
+
+The woods on either side sped by them, and Helen's emotions soon
+began to flow faster. It was always easy for her to forget
+everything and lose herself in feelings of joy and power, and it was
+especially easy when she was as much wrought up as she was just
+then. It was again her ride with the thunderstorm, and soon she felt
+as if she were being swept out into the rejoicing and the victory
+once more. She might have realized, if she had thought, that her joy
+was coming only because she was following her aunt's advice, and
+yielding herself into the arms of her temptation; but Helen was
+thoroughly tired of thinking; she wanted to feel, and again and
+again she drank in deep breaths of the breeze.
+
+It was only a minute or so before they passed the gates of the
+Roberts place, and swept out of the woods and into the open country.
+It was really inspiring then, for Mr. Harrison gave his horses the
+reins, and Helen was compelled to hold on to her hat. He saw delight
+and laughter glowing in her countenance as she watched the landscape
+that fled by them, with its hillsides clad in their brightest green
+and with its fresh-plowed farm-lands and snowy orchards; the
+clattering of the horses' hoofs and the whirring of the wheels in
+the sandy road were music and inspiration such as Helen longed for,
+and she would have sung with all her heart had she been alone.
+
+As was her way, she talked instead, with the same animation and glow
+that had fascinated her companion upon the previous evening. She
+talked of the sights that were about them, and when they came to the
+top of the hill and paused to gaze around at the view, she told
+about her trip through the Alps, and pictured the scenery to him,
+and narrated some of her mountain-climbing adventures; and then Mr.
+Harrison, who must have been a dull man indeed not to have felt the
+contagion of Helen's happiness, told her about his own experiences
+in the Rockies, to which the girl listened with genuine interest.
+Mr. Harrison's father, so he told her, had been a station-agent of a
+little town in one of the wildest portions of the mountains; he
+himself had begun as a railroad surveyor, and had risen step by step
+by constant exertion and watchfulness. It was a story of a self-made
+man, such as Helen had vowed to her aunt she could not bear to
+listen to; yet she did not find it disagreeable just then. There was
+an exciting story of a race with a rival road, to secure the right
+to the best route across the mountains; Helen found it quite as
+exciting as music, and said so.
+
+“Perhaps it is a kind of music,” said Mr. Harrison, laughing; “it is
+the only kind I have cared anything about, excepting yours.”
+
+“I had no idea people had to work so hard in the world,” said Helen,
+dodging the compliment.
+
+“They do, unless they have someone else to do it for them,” said the
+other. “It is a fierce race, nowadays, and a man has to watch and
+think every minute of the time. But it is glorious to triumph.”
+
+Helen found herself already a little more in a position to realize
+what ten million dollars amounted to, and very much more respectful
+and awe-stricken in her relation to them. She was sufficiently
+oblivious to the flight of time to be quite surprised when she gazed
+about her, and discovered that they were within a couple of miles of
+home. “I had no idea of how quickly we were going,” she said.
+
+“You are not tired, then?” asked the other.
+
+“No indeed,” Helen answered, “I enjoyed it ever so much.”
+
+“We might drive farther,” said Mr. Harrison; “these horses are
+hardly waked up.”
+
+He reined them in a little and glanced at his watch. “It's just
+eleven,” he said, “I think there'd be time,” and he turned to her
+with a smile. “Would you like to have an adventure?” he asked.
+
+“I generally do,” replied the girl. “What is it?”
+
+“I was thinking of a drive,” said the other; “one that we could just
+about take and return by lunch-time; it is about ten miles from
+here.”
+
+“What is it?” asked Helen.
+
+“I have just bought a country place near here,” said Mr. Harrison.
+“I thought perhaps you would like to see it.”
+
+“My aunt spoke of it,” Helen answered; “the Eversons' old home.”
+
+“Yes,” said the other; “you know it, then?”
+
+“I only saw it once in my life, when I was a very little girl,”
+ Helen replied, “and so I have only a dim recollection of its
+magnificence; the old man who lived there never saw any company.”
+
+“It had to be sold because he failed in business,” said Mr.
+Harrison. “Would you like to drive over?”
+
+“Very much,” said Helen, and a minute later, when they came to a
+fork in the road, they took the one which led them to “Fairview,” as
+the place was called.
+
+“I think it a tremendously fine property myself,” said Mr. Harrison;
+“I made up my mind to have it the first time I saw it. I haven't
+seen anything around here to equal it, and I hope to make a real
+English country-seat out of it. I'll tell you about what I want to
+do when we get there, and you can give me your advice; a man never
+has good taste, you know.”
+
+“I should like to see it,” answered Helen, smiling; “I have a
+passion for fixing up things.”
+
+“We had an exciting time at the sale,” went on Mr. Harrison
+reminiscently. “You know Mr. Everson's family wanted to keep the
+place themselves, and the three or four branches of the family had
+clubbed together to buy it; when the bidding got near the end, there
+was no one left but the family and myself.”
+
+“And you got it?” said Helen. “How cruel!”
+
+“The strongest wins,” laughed the other. “I had made up my mind to
+have it. The Eversons are a very aristocratic family, aren't they?”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, “very, indeed; they have lived in this part of
+the country since the Revolution.” As Mr. Harrison went on to tell
+her the story of the sale she found herself vividly reminded of what
+her aunt had told her of the difference between having a good deal
+of money and all the money one wanted. Perhaps, also, her companion
+was not without some such vaguely felt purpose in the telling. At
+any rate, the girl was trembling inwardly more and more at the
+prospect which was unfolding itself before her; as excitement always
+acted upon her as a stimulant, she was at her very best during the
+rest of the drive. She and her companion were conversing very
+merrily indeed when Fairview was reached.
+
+The very beginning of the place was imposing, for there was a high
+wall along the roadway for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then two
+massive iron gates set in great stone pillars; they were opened by
+the gate-keeper in response to Mr. Harrison's call. Once inside the
+two had a drive of some distance through what had once been a
+handsome park, though it was a semi-wilderness then. The road
+ascended somewhat all the way, until the end of the forest was
+reached, and the first view of the house was gained; Helen could
+scarcely restrain a cry of pleasure as she saw it, for it was really
+a magnificent old mansion, built of weather-beaten gray stone, and
+standing upon a high plateau, surrounded by a lawn and shaded by
+half a dozen great oaks; below it the lawn sloped in a broad
+terrace, and in the valley thus formed gleamed a little trout-pond,
+set off at the back by a thickly-wooded hillside.
+
+“Isn't it splendid!” the girl exclaimed, gazing about her.
+
+“I thought it was rather good,” said Mr. Harrison, deprecatingly.
+“It can be made much finer, of course.”
+
+“When you take your last year's hay crop from the lawn, for one
+thing,” laughed she. “But I had no idea there was anything so
+beautiful near our little Oakdale. Just look at that tremendous
+entrance!”
+
+“It's all built in royal style,” said Mr. Harrison. “The family must
+have been wealthy in the old days.”
+
+“Probably slave-dealers, or something of that kind,” observed Helen.
+“Is the house all furnished inside?”
+
+“Yes,” said the other, “but I expect to do most of it over. Wouldn't
+you like to look?” He asked the question as he saw the gate-keeper
+coming up the road, presumably with the keys.
+
+The girl gazed about her dubiously; she would have liked to go in,
+except that she was certain it would be improper. Helen had never
+had much respect for the proprieties, however, being accustomed to
+rely upon her own opinions of things; and in the present case,
+besides, she reflected that no one would ever know anything about
+it.
+
+“We'd not have time to do more than glance around,” continued the
+other, “but we might do that, if you like.”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, after a moment more of hesitation, “I think I
+should.”
+
+Her heart was beating very fast as the two ascended the great stone
+steps and as the door opened before them; her mind could not but be
+filled with the overwhelming thought that all that she saw might be
+hers if she really wanted it. The mere imagining of Mr. Harrison's
+wealth had been enough to make her thrill and burn, so it was to be
+expected that the actual presence of some of it would not fail of
+its effect. It is to be observed that the great Temptation took
+place upon a high mountain, where the kingdoms of the earth could
+really be seen; and Helen as she gazed around had the further
+knowledge that the broad landscape and palatial house, which to her
+were almost too splendid to be real, were after all but a slight
+trifle to her companion.
+
+The girl entered the great hallway, with its huge fireplace and its
+winding stairway, and then strolled through the parlors of the vast
+house; Helen had in all its fullness the woman's passion for
+spending money for beautiful things, and it had been her chief woe
+in all her travels that the furniture and pictures and tapestry
+which she gazed at with such keen delight must be forever beyond her
+thoughts. Just at present her fancy was turned loose and madly
+reveling in these memories, while always above her wildest flights
+was the intoxicating certainty that there was no reason why they
+should not all be possible. She could not but recollect with a
+wondering smile that only yesterday she had been happy at the
+thought of arranging one dingy little parlor in her country
+parsonage, and had been trying to persuade her father to the
+extravagance of re-covering two chairs.
+
+It would have been hard for Helen to keep her emotions from Mr.
+Harrison, and he must have guessed the reason why she was so flushed
+and excited. They were standing just then in the center of the great
+dining-room, with its massive furniture of black mahogany, and she
+was saying that it ought to be papered in dark red, and was
+conjuring up the effect to herself. “Something rich, you know, to
+set off the furniture,” she explained.
+
+“And you must take that dreadful portrait from over the mantel,” she
+added, laughing. (It was a picture of a Revolutionary warrior, on
+horseback and in full uniform, the coloring looking like faded
+oilcloth.)
+
+“I had thought of that myself,” said Mr. Harrison. “It's the founder
+of the Eversons; there's a picture gallery in a hall back of here,
+with two whole rows of ancestors in it.”
+
+“Why don't you adopt them?” asked Helen mischievously.
+
+“One can buy all the ancestors one wants to, nowadays,” laughed Mr.
+Harrison. “I thought I'd make something more interesting out of it.
+I'm not much of a judge of art, you know, but I thought if I ever
+went abroad I'd buy up some of the great paintings that one reads
+about--some of the old masters, you know.”
+
+“I'm afraid you'd find very few of them for sale,” said Helen,
+smiling.
+
+“I'm not accustomed to fail in buying things that I want,” was the
+other's reply. “Are you fond of pictures?”
+
+“Very much indeed,” answered the girl. As a matter of fact, the mere
+mention of the subject opened a new kingdom to her, for she could
+not count the number of times she had sat before beautiful pictures
+and almost wept at the thought that she could never own one that was
+really worth looking at. “I brought home a few myself,” she said to
+her companion,--“just engravings, you know, half a dozen that I
+thought would please me; I mean to hang them around my music-room.”
+
+“Tell me about it,” said Mr. Harrison. “I have been thinking of
+fixing up such a place myself, you know. I thought of extending the
+house on the side that has the fine view of the valley, and making
+part a piazza, and part a conservatory or music-room.”
+
+“It could be both!” exclaimed the girl, eagerly. “That would be the
+very thing; there ought not to be anything in a music-room, you
+know, except the piano and just a few chairs, and the rest all
+flowers. The pictures ought all to be appropriate--pictures of
+nature, of things that dance and are beautiful; oh, I could lose
+myself in such a room as that!” and Helen ran on, completely carried
+away by the fancy, and forgetting even Mr. Harrison for a moment.
+
+“I have often dreamed of such a place,” she said, “where everything
+would be sympathetic; it's a pity that one can't have a piano taken
+out into the fields, the way I remember reading that Haydn used to
+do with his harpsichord. If I were a violinist, that's the way I'd
+do all my playing, because then one would not need to be afraid to
+open his eyes; oh, it would be fine--”
+
+Helen stopped; she was at the height of her excitement just then;
+and the climax came a moment afterwards. “Miss Davis,” asked the
+man, “would you really like to arrange such a music-room?”
+
+The tone of his voice was so different that the girl comprehended
+instantly; it was this moment to which she had been rushing with so
+much exultation; but when it came her heart almost stopped beating,
+and she gave a choking gasp.
+
+“Would you really like it?” asked Mr. Harrison again, bending
+towards her earnestly.
+
+“Why, certainly,” said Helen, making one blind and desperate effort
+to dodge the issue. “I'll tell you everything that is necessary.”
+
+“That is not what I mean, Miss Davis!”
+
+“Not?” echoed Helen, and she tried to look at him with her frank,
+open eyes; but when she saw his burning look, she could not; she
+dropped her eyes and turned scarlet.
+
+“Miss Davis,” went on the man rapidly, “I have been waiting for a
+chance to tell you this. Let me tell you now!”
+
+Helen gazed wildly about her once, as if she would have fled; then
+she stood with her arms lying helplessly at her sides, trembling in
+every nerve.
+
+“There is very little pleasure that one can get from such beautiful
+things alone, Miss Davis, and especially when he is as dulled by the
+world as myself. I thought that some day I might be able to share
+them with some one who could enjoy them more than I, but I never
+knew who that person was until last night. I know that I have not
+much else to offer you, except what wealth and position I have
+gained; and when I think of all your accomplishments, and all that
+you have to place you so far beyond me, I almost fear to offer
+myself to you. But I can only give what I have--my humble admiration
+of your beauty and your powers; and the promise to worship you, to
+give the rest of my life to seeing that you have everything in the
+world that you want. I will put all that I own at your command, and
+get as much more as I can, with no thought but of your happiness.”
+
+Mr. Harrison could not have chosen words more fitted to win the
+trembling girl beside him; that, he should recognize as well as she
+did her superiority to him, removed half of his deficiency in her
+eyes.
+
+“Miss Davis,” the other went on, “I cannot know how you will feel
+toward such a promise, but I cannot but feel that what I possess
+could give you opportunities of much happiness. You should have all
+the beauty about you that you wished, for there is nothing in the
+world too beautiful for you; and you should have every luxury that
+money can buy, to save you from all care. If this house seemed too
+small for you, you should have another wherever you desired it, and
+be mistress of it, and of everything in it; and if you cared for a
+social career, you should have everything to help you, and it would
+be my one happiness to see your triumph. I would give a thousand
+times what I own to have you for my wife.”
+
+So the man continued, pleading his cause, until at last he stopped,
+waiting anxiously for a sign from the girl; he saw that she was
+agitated, for her breast was heaving, and her forehead flushed, but
+he could not tell the reason. “Perhaps, Miss Davis,” he said,
+humbly, “you will scorn such things as I have to offer you; tell me,
+is it that?”
+
+Helen answered him, in a faint voice, “It is not that, Mr. Harrison;
+it is,--it is,--”
+
+“What, Miss Davis?”
+
+“It has been but a day! I have had no time to know you--to love
+you.”
+
+And Helen stopped, afraid at the words she herself was using; for
+she knew that for the first time in her life she had stooped to a
+sham and a lie. Her whole soul was ablaze with longing just then,
+with longing for the power and the happiness which this man held out
+to her; and she meant to take him, she had no longer a thought of
+resistance. It was all the world which offered itself to her, and
+she meant to clasp it to her--to lose herself quite utterly and
+forget herself in it, and she was already drunk with the thought.
+Therefore she could not but shudder as she heard the word “love”
+ upon her lips, and knew that she had used it because she wished to
+make a show of hesitation.
+
+“I did not need but one day, Miss Davis,” went on the other
+pleadingly, “to know that I loved you--to know that I no longer set
+any value on the things that I had struggled all my life to win; for
+you are perfect, Miss Davis. You are so far beyond me that I have
+scarcely the courage to ask you what I do. But I _must_ ask you, and
+know my fate.”
+
+He stopped again and gazed at her; and Helen looked at him wildly,
+and then turned away once more, trembling. She wished that he would
+only continue still longer, for the word was upon her lips, and yet
+it was horror for her to utter it, because she felt she ought not to
+yield so soon,--because she wanted some delay; she sought for some
+word that would be an evasion, that would make him urge her more
+strongly; she wished to be wooed and made to surrender, and yet she
+could find no pretext.
+
+“Answer me, Miss Davis!” exclaimed the other, passionately.
+
+“What--what do you wish me to say?” asked Helen faintly.
+
+“I wish you to tell me that you will be my wife; I wish you to take
+me for what I can give you for your happiness and your glory. I ask
+nothing else, I make no terms; if you will do it, it will make me
+the happiest man in the world. There is nothing else that I care for
+in life.”
+
+And then as the girl still stood, flushed and shuddering, hovering
+upon the verge, he took her hand in his and begged her to reply.
+“You must not keep me in suspense!” he exclaimed. “You must tell
+me,--tell me.”
+
+And Helen, almost sinking, answered him “Yes!” It was such a faint
+word that she scarcely heard it herself, but the other heard it, and
+trembling with delight, he caught her in his arms and pressed a
+burning kiss upon her cheek.
+
+The effect surprised him; for the fire which had burned Helen and
+inflamed her cheeks had been ambition, and ambition alone. It was
+the man's money that she wanted and she was stirred with no less
+horror than ever at the thought of the price to be paid; therefore
+the touch of his rough mustache upon her cheek acted upon her as an
+electric contact, and all the shame in her nature burst into flame.
+She tore herself loose with almost a scream. “No, no!” she cried.
+“Stop!”
+
+Mr. Harrison gazed at her in astonishment for a moment, scarcely
+able to find a word to say. “Miss Davis,” he protested, “Helen--what
+is the matter?”
+
+“You had no right to do that!” she cried, trembling with anger.
+
+“Helen!” protested the other, “have you not just promised to be my
+wife?” And the words made the girl turn white and drop her eyes in
+fear.
+
+“Yes, yes,” she panted helplessly, “but you should not--it is too
+soon!” The other stood watching her, perhaps divining a little of
+the cause of her agitation, and feeling, at any rate, that he could
+be satisfied for the present with his success. He answered, very
+humbly, “Perhaps you are right; I am very sorry for offending you,”
+ and stood silently waiting until the girl's emotions had subsided a
+little, and she had looked at him again. “You will pardon me?” he
+asked.
+
+“Yes, yes,” she said, weakly, “only--”
+
+“And you will not forget the promise you have made me?”
+
+“No,” she answered, and then she gazed anxiously toward the door.
+“Let us go,” she said imploringly; “it is all so hard for me to
+realize, and I feel so very faint.”
+
+The two went slowly down the hallway, Mr. Harrison not even
+venturing to offer her his arm; outside they stood for a minute upon
+the high steps, Helen leaning against a pillar and breathing very
+hard. She dared not raise her eyes to the man beside her.
+
+“You wish to go now?” he asked, gently.
+
+“Yes, please,” she replied, “I think so; it is very late.”
+
+Helen scarcely knew what happened during the drive home, for she
+passed it in a half-dazed condition, almost overwhelmed by what she
+had done. She answered mechanically to all Mr. Harrison's remarks
+about his arrangements of the house and his plans elsewhere, but all
+reference to his wealth seemed powerless to waken in her a trace of
+the exultation that had swept her away before, while every allusion
+to their personal relationship was like the touch of fire. Her
+companion seemed to divine the fact, and again he begged her
+anxiously not to forget the promise she had given. Helen answered
+faintly that she would not; but the words were hard for her to say
+and it was an infinite relief to her to see Oakdale again, and to
+feel that the strain would soon be over, for the time at any rate.
+
+“I shall stay somewhere in the neighborhood,” said Mr. Harrison.
+“You will let me see you often, Helen, will you not?”
+
+“Yes,” answered Helen, mechanically.
+
+“I will come to-morrow,” said the other, “and take you driving if
+you like; I promised to go back and lunch with your aunt to-day, as
+I thought I was to return to the city.” In a moment more the
+carriage stopped in front of Helen's home, and the girl, without
+waiting for anyone to assist her, leaped out and with a hasty word
+of parting, ran into the house. She heard the horses trotting away,
+and then the door closed behind her, and she stood in the dark,
+silent hallway. She saw no one, and after gazing about her for a
+moment she stole into her little music-room and flung herself down
+upon the couch, where she lay with her head buried in her hands.
+
+It was a long time afterwards when she glanced up again; she was
+trembling all over, and her face was white.
+
+“In Heaven's name, how can I have done it?” she whispered hoarsely,
+to herself. “How can I have done it? And what _am_ I to do now?”
+
+Nur wer der Minne Macht ent-sagt, nur wer der Liebe Lust verjagt
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+  “Wie kommt's, dass du so traurig bist,
+    Da alles froh erscheint?
+  Man sieht dir's an den Augen an,
+    Gewiss, du hast geweint.”
+
+Helen might have spent the afternoon in that situation, tormenting
+herself with the doubts and fears that filled her mind, had it not
+been for the fact that her presence was discovered by Elizabeth, the
+servant, who came in to clean the room. The latter of course was
+astonished to see her, but Helen was in no mood to vouchsafe
+explanations.
+
+“Just leave me alone,” she said. “I do not feel very well. And don't
+tell father I am here yet.”
+
+“Your father, Miss Helen!” exclaimed the woman; “didn't you get his
+letter?”
+
+“What letter?” And then poor Helen was made aware of another
+trouble.
+
+“Mr. Davis wrote Mrs. Roberts last night,” answered the servant.
+“He's gone away.”
+
+“Away!” cried the girl. “Where to?”
+
+“To New York.” Then the woman went on to explain that Mr. Davis had
+been invited to take the place of a friend who was ill, and had left
+Oakdale for a week. Helen understood that the letter must have
+reached her aunt after her own departure.
+
+“Dear me!” the girl exclaimed, “How unfortunate! I don't want to
+stay here alone.”
+
+But afterwards it flashed over her that if she did she might be able
+to have a week of quiet to regain her self-possession. “Mr. Harrison
+couldn't expect to visit me if I were alone,” she thought. “But
+then, I suppose he could, too,” she added hastily, “if I am engaged
+to him! And I could never stand that!”
+
+“Miss Helen,” said the servant, who had been standing and watching
+her anxiously, “you look very ill; is anything the matter?”
+
+“Nothing,” Helen answered, “only I want to rest. Leave me alone,
+please, Elizabeth.”
+
+“Are you going to stay?” the other asked; “I must fix up your room.”
+
+“I'll have to stay,” said Helen. “There's nothing else to do.”
+
+“Have you had lunch yet?”
+
+“No, but I don't want any; just let me be, please.”
+
+Helen expected the woman to protest, but she did not. She turned
+away, and the girl sank back upon the couch and covered her face
+again.
+
+“Everything has gone wrong!” she groaned to herself, “I know I shall
+die of despair; I don't want to be here all alone with Mr. Harrison
+coming here. Dear me, I wish I had never seen him!”
+
+And Helen's nervous impatience grew upon her, until she could stand
+it no more, and she sprang up and began pacing swiftly up and down
+the room; she was still doing that when she heard a step in the hall
+and saw the faithful servant in the doorway with a tray of luncheon.
+Elizabeth asked no questions about matters that did not concern her,
+but she regarded this as her province, and she would pay no
+attention to Helen's protests. “You'll be ill if you don't eat,” she
+vowed; “you look paler than I ever saw you.”
+
+And so the girl sat down to attempt to please her, Elizabeth
+standing by and talking to her in the meantime; but Helen was so
+wrapped up in her own thoughts that she scarcely heard a word--until
+the woman chanced to ask one question: “Did you hear about Mr.
+Arthur?”
+
+And Helen gazed up at her. “Hear about him?” she said, “hear what
+about him?”
+
+“He's very ill,” said Elizabeth. Helen gave a start.
+
+“Ill!” she gasped.
+
+“Yes,” said Elizabeth, “I thought you must know; Mr. Davis was over
+to see him yesterday.”
+
+“What is the matter?”
+
+“The doctor said he must have been fearfully run down, and he was
+out in the storm and caught a cold; and he's been in a very bad way,
+delirious and unconscious by turns for two or three days.”
+
+Helen was staring at the servant in a dumb fright. “Tell me,
+Elizabeth,” she cried, scarcely able to say the words, “he is not
+dangerously ill?”
+
+“The danger is over now,” the other answered, “so the doctor said,
+or else Mr. Davis would never have left; but he's in a bad way and
+it may be some time before he's up again.”
+
+Perhaps it was the girl's overwrought condition that made her more
+easily alarmed just then, for she was trembling all over as she
+heard those words. She had forgotten Arthur almost entirely during
+the past two days, and he came back to her at that moment as another
+thorn in her conscience.
+
+“Mr. Davis said he wrote you to go and see him,” went on the
+servant; “shall you, Miss Helen?”
+
+“I--I don't know,” said Helen faintly, “I'll see.”
+
+As a matter of fact, she knew that she almost certainly would _not_
+go to see Arthur after what had just passed; even to have him find
+out about it was something of which she simply could not think. She
+felt dread enough at having to tell her father of what had occurred
+with Mr. Harrison, and to see Arthur, even though he did not know
+about it, she knew was not in her power.
+
+“Perhaps I ought not to have told you about it until after you had
+had your lunch; you are not eating anything, Miss Helen.”
+
+“I don't want anything,” said Helen, mournfully; “take it now,
+please, Elizabeth, and please do not trouble me any more. I have a
+great deal to worry me.”
+
+When the woman had left the room, Helen shut the door and then sat
+down on a chair, staring blankly before her; there was a mirror just
+across the room, and her own image caught her eye, startling her by
+its pale and haggard look.
+
+“Dear me, it's dreadful!” she cried aloud, springing up. “Why _did_
+I let people trouble me in this way? I can't help Arthur, and I
+couldn't have helped him in the beginning. It's every bit of it his
+own fault, and I don't see why I should let it make me ill. And it's
+the same with the other thing; I could have been happy without all
+that wealth if I'd never seen it, and now I know I'll never be happy
+again,--oh, I know it!”
+
+And Helen began once more pacing up and down.
+
+“I never was this way before in my life,” she cried with increasing
+vexation, “and I won't have it!”
+
+She clenched her hands angrily, struggling within herself to shake
+off what was tormenting her. But she might as well have tried to
+shake off a mountain from her shoulders; hers had been none of the
+stern experience that gives power and command to the character, and
+of the kind of energy that she needed she had none, and not even a
+thought of it. She tried only to forget her troubles in some of her
+old pleasures, and when she found that she could not read, and that
+the music she tried to play sounded hollow and meaningless, she
+could only fling herself down upon the sofa with a moan. There,
+realizing her own impotence, she sank into dull despair, unable any
+longer to realize the difficulties which troubled her, and with only
+one certainty in her mind--that she was more lost and helpless than
+she had ever thought it possible for her to be.
+
+Time is not a thing of much consequence under such circumstances,
+and it was a couple of hours before Helen was aroused. She heard a
+carriage stop at the door, and sprang up in alarm, with the thought
+that it might be Mr. Harrison. But as she stood trembling in the
+middle of the room she heard a voice inquiring for her, and
+recognized it as that of her aunt; a moment later Mrs. Roberts
+rushed into the room, and catching sight of Helen, flung her arms
+eagerly about her.
+
+“My dear girl,” she cried, “Mr. Harrison has just told me about what
+has happened!” And then as she read her niece's state of mind in her
+countenance, she added, “I expected to find you rejoicing, Helen;
+what is the matter?”
+
+In point of fact the woman had known pretty well just how she would
+find Helen, and having no idea of leaving her to her own tormenting
+fancies, she had driven over the moment she had finished her lunch.
+“I received your father's letter,” she said, without waiting for
+Helen to answer her, “so I came right over to take you back.”
+
+“To take me back!” echoed Helen.
+
+“Yes, my dear; you don't suppose I mean to leave you here all alone
+by yourself, do you? And especially at such a time as this, when Mr.
+Harrison wants to see you?”
+
+“But, Aunt Polly,” protested Helen, “I don't want to see him!”
+
+“Don't want to see him? Why, my dear girl, you have promised to be
+his wife!”
+
+Mrs. Roberts saw Helen shudder slightly, and so she went on quickly,
+“He is going to stay at the hotel in the village; you won't find it
+the same as being in the house with him. But I do assure you, child,
+there never was a man more madly in love than he is.”
+
+“But, Auntie, dear, that Mr. Howard, too!” protested Helen,
+trembling.
+
+“He will not interfere with you, for he never makes any noise; and
+you'll not know he's there. Of course, you won't play the piano, but
+you can do anything else you choose. And Mr. Harrison will probably
+take you driving every day.” Then seeing how agitated Helen was, her
+aunt put her arms around her again, and led her to the sofa. “Come,
+Helen,” she said, “I don't blame you for being nervous. I know just
+how you feel, my dear.”
+
+“Oh, Aunt Polly!” moaned the girl. “I am so wretched!”
+
+“I know,” laughed Aunt Polly; “it's the idea of having to marry him,
+I suppose; I felt the very same way when I was in your place. But
+you'll find that wears off very quickly; you'll get used to seeing
+him. And besides, you know that you've _got_ to marry him, if you
+want any of the other happiness!”
+
+And Mrs. Roberts stopped and gazed about her. “Think, for instance,
+my dear,” she went on, “of having to be content with this dingy
+little room, after having seen that magnificent place of his! Do you
+know, Helen, dear, that I really envy you; and it seems quite
+ridiculous to come over here and find you moping around. One would
+think you were a hermit and did not care anything about life.”
+
+“I do care about it,” said the other, “and I love beautiful things
+and all; but, Aunt Polly, I can't help thinking it's dreadful to
+have to marry.”
+
+“Come and learn to like Mr. Harrison,” said the other, cheerfully.
+“Helen, you are really too weak to ruin your peace of mind in this
+way; for you could see if you chose that all your troubles are of
+your own making, and that if you were really determined to be happy,
+you could do it. Why don't you, dear?”
+
+“I don't know,” protested the girl, faintly; “perhaps I am weak, but
+I can't help it.”
+
+“Of course not,” laughed the other, “if you spend your afternoons
+shut up in a half-dark room like this. When you come with me you
+won't be able to do that way; and I tell you you'll find there's
+nothing like having social duties and an appearance to maintain in
+the world to keep one cheerful. If you didn't have me at your elbow
+I really believe you'd go all to pieces.”
+
+“I fear I should,” said the girl; but she could not help laughing as
+she allowed herself to be led upstairs, and to have the dust bathed
+from her face and the wrinkles smoothed from her brow. In the
+meantime her diplomatic aunt was unobtrusively dropping as many
+hints as she could think of to stir Helen to a sense of the fact
+that she had suddenly become a person of consequence; and whether it
+was these hints or merely the reaction natural to Helen, it is
+certain that she was much calmer when she went down to the carriage,
+and much more disposed to resign herself to meeting Mr. Harrison
+again. And Mrs. Roberts was correspondingly glad that she had been
+foreseeing enough to come and carry her away; she had great
+confidence in her ability to keep Helen from foolish worrying, and
+to interest her in the great future that was before her.
+
+“And then it's just as well that she should be at my house where she
+can find the comfort that she loves,” she reflected. “I can see that
+she learns to love it more every day.”
+
+The great thing, of course, was to keep her ambition as much awake
+as possible, and so during the drive home Mrs. Roberts' conversation
+was of the excitement which the announcement of Helen's engagement
+would create in the social world, and of the brilliant triumph which
+the rest of her life would be, and of the vast preparations which
+she was to make for it. The trousseau soon came in for mention then;
+and what woman could have been indifferent to a trousseau, even for
+a marriage which she dreaded? After that the conversation was no
+longer a task, for Helen's animation never failed to build itself up
+when it was once awake; she was so pleased and eager that the drive
+was over before she knew it, and before she had had time for even
+one unpleasant thought about meeting Mr. Harrison.
+
+It proved not to be a difficult task after all, for Mr. Harrison was
+quiet and dignified, and even a little reserved, as Helen thought,
+so that it occurred to her that perhaps he was offended at the
+vehemence with which she had repelled him. She did not know, but it
+seemed to her that perhaps it might have been his right to embrace
+her after she had promised to marry him; the thought made her
+shudder, yet she felt sure that if she had asked her aunt she would
+have learned that she was very much in the wrong indeed. Helen's
+conscience was very restless just at that time, and it was pleasant
+to be able to lull it by being a little more gracious and kind to
+her ardent lover. The latter of course responded joyfully, so that
+the remainder of the afternoon passed quite pleasantly.
+
+When Mr. Roberts arrived and had been acquainted with the tidings,
+he of course sought the first opportunity to see the girl, and to
+congratulate her upon her wonderful fortune. Helen had always found
+in her uncle a grave, business-like person, who treated her with
+indifference, and therefore inspired her with awe; it was not a
+little stirring to her vanity to find that she was now a person of
+sufficient consequence to reverse the relation. This fact did yet a
+little more to make her realize the vastness of her sudden conquest,
+and so throughout dinner she was almost as exulting in her own heart
+as she had been at the same time on the previous day.
+
+Her animation mounted throughout the evening, for Mr. Harrison and
+her aunt talked of the future--of endless trips abroad, and of
+palatial houses and royal entertainments at home--until the girl was
+completely dazed. Afterwards, when she and Mr. Harrison were left
+alone, Helen fascinated her companion as completely as ever, and was
+radiant herself, and rejoicing. As if to cap the climax, Mr.
+Harrison broached the subject of a trip to New York, to see if she
+could find anything at the various picture dealers to suit her music
+room, and also of a visit to Fairview to meet an architect and
+discuss her plan there.
+
+The girl went up to her room just as completely full of exultation
+as she had been upon the night before, yet more comfortable in the
+conviction that there would be no repetition of that night's worry.
+Yet even as the thought occurred to her, it made her tremble; and as
+if some fiend had arranged it especially for her torment, as she
+passed down the hall a nurse came silently out of one of the rooms,
+and through the half open doorway Helen fancied that she heard a low
+moan. She shuddered and darted into her own room and locked the
+door; yet that did not exclude the image of the sufferer, or keep it
+from suggesting a train of thought that plunged the girl into
+misery. It made her think of Arthur, and of the haggard look that
+had been upon his face when he left her; and all Helen's angry
+assertions that it was not her fault could not keep her from
+tormenting herself after that. Always the fact was before her that
+however sick he might be, even dying, she could never bear to see
+him again, and so Arthur became the embodiment of her awakening
+conscience.
+
+The result was that the girl slept very little that night, spending
+half of it in fact alternately sitting in a chair and pacing the
+room in agitation, striving in vain to find some gleam of light to
+guide her out of the mazes in which she was lost. The gray dawn
+found her tossing feverishly about upon her pillow, yearning for the
+time when she had been happy, and upbraiding herself for having been
+drawn into her present trouble.
+
+When she arose later on, she was more pale and wearied than she had
+been upon the morning before; then she had at least possessed a
+resolution, while this time she was only helpless and despairing.
+Thus her aunt found her when she came in to greet her, and the
+dismay of the worthy matron may be imagined.
+
+However, being an indefatigable little body, she set bravely to work
+again; first of all, by rebuking the girl for her weakness she
+managed to rouse her to effort once more, and then by urging the
+necessity of seeing people and of hiding her weakness, she managed
+to obtain at last a semblance of cheerfulness. In the meantime Mrs.
+Roberts was helping her to dress and to remove all traces of her
+unhappiness, so that when Helen descended to breakfast she had
+received her first lesson in one of the chief tasks of the social
+regime:
+
+  “Full many in the silent night
+    Have wept their grief away;
+  And in the morn you fancy
+    Their hearts were ever gay.”
+
+And Helen played her part so well that Mrs. Roberts was much
+encouraged, and beamed upon her across the table. As a matter of
+fact, because her natural happiness was not all crushed, and because
+playing a part was not easy to the girl, she was very soon
+interested in the various plans that were being discussed. When Mr.
+Harrison called later on and proposed a drive, she accepted with
+genuine pleasure.
+
+To be sure, she found it a trifle less thrilling than on the day
+before, for the novelty was gone; but that fact did not cause her
+much worry. In all her anticipations of the pleasure before her, it
+had occurred to her as little as it occurs to others in her
+situation to investigate the laws of the senses through which the
+pleasure is to be obtained. There is a whole moral philosophy to be
+extracted from the little word “ennui” by those who know; but Helen
+was not of the knowing. She believed that when she was tired of the
+horses she could delight herself with her beautiful house, and that
+when she was tired of the house she could have a new one. All her
+life she had been deriving ecstasy from beautiful things, from
+dresses, and flowers, and books, and music, and pictures; and of
+course it was only necessary to have an infinite quantity of such
+things in order to be infinitely happy. The way to have the infinite
+quantity was to marry Mr. Harrison, or at any rate that was Helen's
+view, and she was becoming more and more irritated because it did
+not work well in practice, and more and more convinced that her aunt
+must be right in blaming her weakness.
+
+In the meantime, being in the open air and among all the things that
+she loved, she was bound to rejoice once more; and rejoice she did,
+not even allowing herself to be hindered by Mr. Harrison's too
+obvious failures to comprehend her best remarks. Helen argued that
+she was not engaged to the man because of his cleverness, and that
+when she had come to the infinite happiness towards which she was
+traveling so fast, she would have inspiration enough for two. She
+had enough for the present to keep them both happy throughout the
+drive, and when she returned she found that some of the neighbors
+had driven over to see her, and to increase her excitement by their
+congratulations. The Machiavellian Aunt Polly had told the news to
+several friends on the day before, knowing full well that it would
+spread during the night, and that Helen would have her first taste
+of triumph the next day.
+
+And so it continued, and exactly as on the night before, the
+feverish excitement swept Helen on until the bedtime hour arrived.
+Then she went up into her room alone, to wrestle with the same
+dreadful specter as before.
+
+The story of that day was the story of all that followed; Helen was
+destined to find that she might sweep herself away upon the wings of
+her ambition as often as she chose, and revel all she pleased in the
+thought of Mr. Harrison's wealth; but when the excitement was over,
+and she came to be all alone, she could think only of the one
+dreadful fact of the necessity of marrying him. She was paying a
+Faustus price for her happiness; and in the night time the price
+stared at her, and turned all her happiness to misery.
+
+A state of mind such as this was so alien to Helen that it would
+have been strange indeed if she had sunk into it without protest and
+rebellion; as day after day passed, and the misery continued, her
+dissatisfaction with everything about her built itself into a
+climax; more and more plainly she was coming to see the widening of
+the gulf between the phantom she was pursuing and the place, where
+she stood. Finally there came one day, nearly a week after her
+engagement, when Helen was so exhausted and so wretched that she had
+made up her mind to remain in her room, and had withstood all her
+aunt's attempts to dissuade her. She had passed the morning in bed,
+between equally vain attempts to become interested in a book and to
+make up for the sleep she had missed during the night, and was just
+about giving up both in despair when the maid entered to say that
+Elizabeth wished to see her. Helen gave a start, for she knew that
+something must be wrong; when the woman entered she asked
+breathlessly what it was.
+
+“It's about Mr. Arthur,” was the hurried reply, and Helen turned
+paler than ever, and clutched the bedclothing in her trembling
+hands.
+
+“What is it?” she cried.
+
+“Why you know, Miss Helen,” said Elizabeth, “your father wrote me to
+go and see him whenever I could, and I've just come from there this
+morning.”
+
+“And how is he?”
+
+“He looked dreadful, but he had gotten up to-day, and he was sitting
+by the window when I came in. He was hardly a shadow of himself.”
+
+Helen was trembling. “You have not been to see him?” asked the
+woman.
+
+“No,” said Helen, faintly, “I--” and then she stopped.
+
+“Why not?” Elizabeth inquired anxiously.
+
+“He did not ask for me, did he?” asked the girl, scarcely able to
+utter the words.
+
+“No,” said the woman, “but you know, everybody told me you were
+engaged to a rich man--”
+
+And Helen started forwrard with a cry. “Elizabeth!” she gasped,
+“you--you didn't---!”
+
+“Yes,” said the other, “I told him.” And then seeing the girl's look
+of terror, she stopped short. Helen stared at her for fully half a
+minute without uttering a word; and then the woman went on, slowly,
+“It was very dreadful, Miss Helen; he went almost crazy, and I was
+so frightened that I didn't know what I should do. Please tell me
+what is the matter.”
+
+Helen was still gazing dumbly at the woman, seeming not to have
+heard the last question. “I--I can't tell you,” she said, when it
+was repeated again; “you ought not to have told him, Elizabeth.”
+
+“Miss Helen,” cried the woman, anxiously, “you _must_ do something!
+For I am sure that I know what is the matter; he loves you, and you
+must know it, too. And it will certainly kill him; weak as he was,
+he rushed out of the house, and I could not find him anywhere. Miss
+Helen, you _must_ go and see him!”
+
+The girl sat with the same look of helpless fright upon her face,
+and with her hands clenched tightly between her knees; the other
+went on talking hurriedly, but Helen scarcely heard anything after
+that; her mind was too full of its own thoughts. It was several
+minutes more before she even noticed that the woman was still
+insisting that she must go to see Artheur. “Please leave me now!”
+ she cried wildly; “please leave me! I cannot explain anything,--I
+want to be alone!” And when the door was shut she became once more
+dumb and motionless, staring blankly ahead of her, a helpless victim
+of her own wretched thoughts.
+
+“That is the end of it,” she groaned to herself; “oh, that is the
+end of it!”
+
+Winkt dir nicht hold die hehre Burg?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+  Thou would'st be happy,
+  Endlessly happy,
+  Or endlessly wretched.
+
+Helen was quite powerless to do anything whatever after that last
+piece of misfortune; it seemed as if she could have remained just
+where she was for hours, shuddering at the sight of what was
+happening, yet utterly helpless before it. The world was taking a
+very serious aspect indeed to the bright and laughing girl, who had
+thought of it as the home of birds and flowers; yet she knew not
+what to make of the change, or how she was to blame for it, and she
+could only sit still and tremble. She was in the same position and
+the same state of mind when her aunt entered the room some minutes
+later.
+
+Mrs. Roberts stood watching her silently, and then as Helen turned
+her gaze of pleading misery upon her, she came forward and sat down
+in a chair by the bedside, and fixed her keen eyes upon the girl.
+
+“Oh, Aunt Polly!” cried Helen; “what am I to do? I am so wretched!”
+
+“I have just been talking to Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Roberts, with
+some sternness, “and she's been telling you about Arthur--is that
+what is the matter with you, Helen?”
+
+“Yes,” was the trembling response, “what can I do?”
+
+“Tell me, Helen, in the first place,” demanded the other. “When you
+saw Arthur that day in the woods, what did you do? Did you make him
+any promises?”
+
+“No, Auntie.”
+
+“Did you hold out any hopes to him? Did you say anything to him at
+all about love?”
+
+“I--I told him it was impossible,” said Helen, eagerly, clutching at
+that little crumb of comfort.
+
+“Then in Heaven's name, child,” cried the other in amazement, “what
+is the matter with you? If Arthur chooses to carry on in this
+fashion, why in the world should you punish yourself in this
+horrible way? What is the matter with you, Helen? Are you
+responsible to him for your marriage? I don't know which is the most
+absurd, the boy's behavior, or your worrying about it.”
+
+“But, Auntie,” stammered the girl, “he is so ill--he might die!”
+
+“Die, bosh!” exclaimed Mrs. Roberts; “he frightened Elizabeth by his
+ravings; it is the most absurd nonsense,--he a penniless
+school-teacher, and the Lord only knows what besides! I only wish
+I'd been there to talk to him, for I don't think he'd have
+frightened me! What in the world do you suppose he wants, anyway? Is
+he mad enough to expect you to marry him?”
+
+“I don't know, Aunt Polly,” said Helen, weakly.
+
+“I'd never have believed that Arthur could be capable of anything so
+preposterous as this behavior,” vowed Mrs. Roberts; “and then to
+come up here and find you wearing yourself to a skeleton about it!”
+
+“It isn't only that, Auntie,” protested Helen, “there is so much
+else; I am miserable!”
+
+“Yes,” said the other, grimly; “I see it as well as you, and there's
+just about as much reason in any of it as in the matter of Arthur.”
+ Then Mrs. Roberts moved her chair nearer, and after gazing at Helen
+for a moment, began again. “I've been meaning to say something to
+you, and it might just as well be said now. For all this matter is
+coming to a climax, Helen; it can't go on this way very much longer,
+for you'll kill yourself. It's got to be settled one way or the
+other, once and for all.” And Mrs. Roberts stopped and took a deep
+breath, preparing for one more struggle; Helen still gazed at her
+helplessly.
+
+“I'm not going to say anything more about Arthur,” declared the
+woman; “if you choose to torment yourself about such absurdities, I
+can't help it. Arthur's behavior is not the least your fault, and
+you know it; but all the other trouble is your fault, and there's
+nobody else to blame. For the question is just as simple as the day,
+Helen, and you must see it and decide it; you've got to choose
+between one of two things, either to marry Mr. Harrison or to give
+him up; and there's no excuse for your hesitating and tormenting
+yourself one day longer.”
+
+Then the indomitable woman set to work at her old task of conjuring
+up before the girl's eyes all the allurements that had so often made
+her heart throb; she, pictured Fairview and all its luxuries, and
+the admiration and power that must be hers when she was mistress of
+it; and she mentioned every other source of pleasure that she knew
+would stir Helen's eager thirst. After having hammered away at that
+theme until she saw signs of the effect she desired, she turned to
+the other side of the picture.
+
+“Helen,” she demanded, “is it really possible for you to think of
+giving up these things and going back to live in that miserable
+little house at Oakdale? Can you not see that you would be simply
+burying yourself alive? You might just as well be as ugly as those
+horrible Nelson girls across the way. Helen, you _know_ you belong
+to a different station in life than those people! You know you have
+a right to some of the beautiful things in the world, and you know
+that after this vision of everything perfect that you have seen, you
+can never possibly be happy in your ignorant girlish way again. You
+have promised Mr. Harrison to marry him, and made him go to all the
+expense that he has; and you've told everybody you know, and all the
+world is talking about your triumph; and you've had Mr. Roberts go
+to all the trouble he has about your trousseau,--surely, Helen, you
+cannot dream of changing your mind and giving all this up. It is
+ridiculous to talk about it.”
+
+“I don't want to give it up,” protested the girl, moaning, “but, oh,
+I can't--”
+
+“I know!” exclaimed the other. “I've heard all that a thousand
+times. Don't you see, Helen, that you've simply _got_ to marry him!
+There is no other possibility to think of, and all of your weakness
+is that you don't perceive that fact, and make up your mind to it.
+Just see how absurd you are, to make yourself ill in this way.”
+
+“But I can't help it, Auntie, indeed I can't!”
+
+“You could help it if you wanted to,” vowed the other. “I am quite
+disgusted with you. I have told you a thousand times that this is
+all an imaginary terror that you are conjuring up for yourself, to
+ruin your health and happiness. When you have married him you will
+see that it's just as I tell you, and you'll laugh at yourself for
+feeling as you did.”
+
+“But it's in the meantime, Aunt Polly--it's having to think about
+it that frightens me.”
+
+“Well, let me tell you one thing,” said Mrs. Roberts; “if I found
+that I couldn't cure myself of such weakness as this, sooner than
+let it ruin my life and make everyone about me wretched, I'd settle
+the matter right now and forever; I'd marry him within a week,
+Helen!” And the resolute little woman clenched her hands grimly.
+“Yes, I would,” she exclaimed, “and if I found I hadn't strength
+enough to hold my resolution, I'd marry him to-morrow, and there'd
+be an end to it!”
+
+“You don't realize, Helen, how you treat Mr. Harrison,” she went on,
+as the girl shuddered; “and how patient he is. You'd not find many
+men like him in that respect, my dear. For he's madly in love with
+you, and you treat him as coldly as if he were a stranger. I can see
+that, for I watch you, and I can see how it offends him. You have
+promised to be his wife, Helen, and yet you behave in this
+ridiculous way. You are making yourself ill, and you look years
+older every day, yet you make not the least attempt to conquer
+yourself.”
+
+So she went on, and Helen began to feel more and more that she was
+doing a very great wrong indeed. Mrs. Roberts' sharp questioning
+finally drew from her the story of her reception of Mr. Harrison's
+one kiss, and Helen was made to seem quite ridiculous and even rude
+in her own eyes; her aunt lectured her with such unaccustomed
+sternness that she was completely frightened, and came to look upon
+her action as the cause of all the rest of her misery.
+
+“It's precisely on that account that you still regard him as a
+stranger,” Mrs. Roberts vowed; “of course he makes no more advances,
+and you might go on forever in that way.” Helen promised that the
+next time she was alone with Mr. Harrison she would apologize for
+her rudeness, and treat him in a different manner.
+
+“I wish,” Mrs. Roberts went on, “that I could only make you see as
+plainly as I see, Helen, how very absurd your conduct is. Day by day
+you are filling your mind with the thought of the triumph that is to
+be yours, so that it takes hold of you and becomes all your life to
+you; and all the time you know that to possess it there is one thing
+which you have got to do. And instead of realizing the fact and
+reconciling yourself to it, you sit down and torment yourself as if
+you were a creature without reason or will. Can you not see that you
+must be wretched?”
+
+“Yes, I see,” said Helen, weakly.
+
+“You see it, but you make no effort to do anything else! You make me
+almost give you up in despair. You will not see that this weakness
+has only to be conquered once, and that then your life can be
+happy!”
+
+“But, Auntie, dear,” exclaimed Helen, “it is so hard!”
+
+“Anything in life would be hard for a person who had no more
+resolution than you,” responded the other. “Because you know nothing
+about the world, you fancy you are doing something very unusual and
+dreadful; but I assure you it's what every girl has to do when she
+marries in society. And there's no one of them but would laugh at
+your behavior; you just give Mr. Harrison up, and see how long it
+would be before somebody else would take him! Oh, child, how I wish
+I could give you a little of my energy; you would go to the life
+that is before you in a very different way, I promise you! For
+really the only way that you can have any happiness in the world is
+to be strong and take it, and if you once had a purpose and some
+determination you would feel like a different person. Make up your
+mind what you wish to do, Helen, and go and do it, and take hold of
+yourself and master yourself, and show what you are made of!”
+
+Aunt Polly was quite sublime as she delivered that little exordium;
+and to the girl, anxious as she was for her old strength and
+happiness, the words were like music. They made her blood flow
+again, and there was a light in her eyes.
+
+“Oh, Auntie,” she said, “I'll try to.”
+
+“Try!” echoed the other, “what comes of all your trying? You have
+been reveling for a week in visions of what is to be yours; and that
+ought surely to have been enough time for you to make up your mind;
+and yet every time that I find you alone, all your resolution is
+gone; you simply have no strength, Helen!”
+
+“Oh, I will have it!” cried the girl; “I don't mean to do this way
+any more; I never saw it so plainly.”
+
+“You see it now, because I'm talking to you, and you always do see
+it then. But I should think the very terror of what you have
+suffered would serve as a motive, and make you quite desperate. Can
+you not see that your very safety depends upon your taking this
+resolution and keeping it, and not letting go of it, no matter what
+happens? From what I've seen of you, Helen, I know that if you do
+not summon all your energies together, and fling aside every purpose
+but this, and act upon it _now_, while you feel it so keenly, you
+will surely fail. For anybody can withstand a temptation for a
+while, when his mind is made up; all the trouble is in keeping it
+made up for a long time. I tell you if I found I was losing, sooner
+than surrender I would do anything, absolutely anything!”
+
+Mrs. Roberts had many more words of that heroic kind; she was a
+vigorous little body, and she was quite on fire with enthusiasm just
+then, and with zeal for the consummation of the great triumph.
+Perhaps there is no occupation of men quite without its poetry, and
+even a society leader may attain to the sublime in her devotion to
+life as she sees it. Besides that the over-zealous woman was exalted
+to eloquence just then by a feeling that she was nearer her goal
+than ever before, and that she had only to spur Helen on and keep
+her in her present glow to clinch the matter; for the girl was very
+much excited indeed, and showed both by what she said and by the
+change in her behavior that she was determined to have an end to her
+own wretchedness and to conquer her shrinking from her future
+husband at any cost. During all the time that she was dressing, her
+aunt was stirring her resolution with the same appeal, so that Helen
+felt that she had never seen her course so clearly before, or had so
+much resolution to follow it. She spread out her arms and drank deep
+breaths of relief because she was free from her misery, and knew how
+to keep so; and at the same time, because she still felt tremblings
+of fear, she clenched her hands in grim earnestness. When she was
+ready to descend she was flushed and trembling with excitement, and
+quite full of her resolution. “She won't have to go very far,” Mrs.
+Roberts mused, “for the man is madly in love with her.”
+
+“I want you to look as beautiful as you can, dear,” she said aloud,
+by way of changing the subject; “besides Mr. Harrison, there'll be
+another visitor at lunch to-day.”
+
+“A stranger?” echoed Helen.
+
+“You remember, dear, when I told you of Mr. Howard I spoke of a
+third person who was coming--Lieutenant Maynard?”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said the girl; “is he here?”
+
+“Just until the late train this evening,” answered the other. “He
+got his leave as he expected, but of course he didn't want to come
+while Mr. Howard was so ill.”
+
+Helen remembered with a start having heard someone say that Mr.
+Howard was better. “Auntie,” she cried, “he won't be at lunch, will
+he? I don't want to see him.”
+
+“He won't, dear,” was the reply; “the doctor said he could leave his
+room to-day, but it will be afterwards, when you have gone driving
+with Mr. Harrison.”
+
+“And will he leave soon?” asked Helen, shuddering; the mention of
+the invalid's name had instantly brought to her mind the thought of
+Arthur.
+
+“He will leave to-morrow, I presume; he probably knows he has caused
+us trouble enough,” answered Mrs. Roberts; and then reading Helen's
+thought, and seeing a sign upon her face of the old worry, she made
+haste to lead her down the stairs.
+
+Helen found Mr. Harrison in conversation with a tall,
+distinguished-looking man in naval uniform, to whom she was
+introduced by her aunt; the girl saw that the officer admired her,
+which was only another stimulant to her energies, so that she was at
+her cleverest during the meal that followed. She accepted the
+invitation of Mr. Harrison to go with him to Fairview during the
+afternoon, and after having been in her room all the morning, she
+was looking forward to the drive with no little pleasure, as
+also--to the meeting with the architect whom Mr. Harrison said would
+be there.
+
+It seemed once as if the plan were to be interrupted, and as if her
+excitement and resolution were to come to naught, for a telegram
+arrived for Mr. Harrison, and he announced that he was called away
+to New York upon some business. But as it proved, this was only
+another circumstance to urge her on in carrying out her defiant
+resolution, for Mr. Harrison added that he would not have to leave
+until the evening, and her aunt gazed at the girl significantly, to
+remind her of how little time there was. Helen felt her heart give a
+sudden leap, and felt a disagreeable trembling seize upon her; her
+animation became more feverish yet in consequence.
+
+After the luncheon, when she ran up for her hat and gloves, her aunt
+followed her, but Helen shook her off with a laughing assurance that
+everything would be all right, and then ran out into the hallway;
+she did not go on, however, for something that she saw caused her to
+spring quickly back, and turn pale.
+
+“What is it?” whispered her aunt, as Helen put her finger to her
+lips.
+
+“It's _he!_” replied the girl, shuddering; “wait!”
+
+“He” was the unfortunate invalid, who was passing down the hallway
+upon the arm of Lieutenant Maynard; Helen shook her head at all her
+aunt's laughing protests, and could not be induced to leave the room
+until the two had passed on; then she ran down, and leaving the
+house by another door, sprang into the carriage with Mr. Harrison
+and was whirled away, waving a laughing good-by to her aunt.
+
+The fresh air and the swift motion soon completed the reaction from
+Helen's morning unhappiness; and as generally happened when she was
+much excited, her imagination carried her away in one of her wild
+flights of joy, so that her companion was as much lost as ever in
+admiration and delight. Helen told him countless stories, and made
+countless half-comprehended witticisms, and darted a great many
+mischievous glances which were comprehended much better; when they
+had passed within the gates of Fairview, being on private land she
+felt even less need of restraint, and sang “Dich, theure Halle,
+gruss' ich wieder!” and laughed at her own cleverness quite as much
+as if her companion had understood it all.
+
+After that it was a new delight to discover that work was
+progressing rapidly upon the trimming of the forest and the turning
+of the grass-grown road into a broad avenue; likewise the “hay crop”
+ was in, and the lawn plowed and raked and ready for grass seed, and
+the undesirable part of the old furniture carted away,--all of which
+things Helen knew had been done according to her commands. And
+scarcely had all this been appreciated properly before the architect
+arrived; Helen was pleased with him because for one thing he was
+evidently very much impressed by her beauty, and for another because
+he entered so understandingly into all her ideas. He and the girl
+spent a couple of the happiest hours in discussing the details of
+the wonderful music room, a thing which seemed to her more full of
+delightful possibilities than any other in all her radiant future;
+it was a sort of a child's dream to her, with a fairy godmother to
+make it real, and her imagination ran riot in a vision of banks of
+flowers, and of paintings of all things that embody the joys of
+music, the “shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.” At night the
+whole was to be illuminated in such a way as to give these
+verisimilitude, and in the daytime it would be no less beautiful,
+because it was to be almost all glass upon two sides. Helen was
+rejoiced that the architect realized the importance of the fact that
+“a music room ought to be out of doors;” and then as she made the
+further welcome discovery that the moon would shine into it, she
+vowed eagerly that there would be no lights at all in her music room
+at those times. Afterwards she told a funny story of how Schumann
+had been wont to improvise under such circumstances, until his
+next-door neighbor was so struck by the romance of it that he
+proceeded to imitate it, and to play somebody or other's technical
+studies whenever the moon rose; at which narrative Helen and the
+architect laughed very heartily, and Mr. Harrison with them, though
+he would not have known the difference between a technical study and
+the “Moonlight Sonata.”
+
+Altogether, Helen was about as happy as ever throughout that
+afternoon, tho one who watched her closely might have thought there
+was something nervous about her animation, especially later on, when
+the talk with the architect was nearing its end; Helen's eyes had
+once or twice wandered uneasily about the room, and when finally the
+man rose to leave, she asked him with a sudden desperate resolution
+to look over the rest of the rooms and see what he thought of her
+suggestions. The latter expressed himself as pleased to oblige her,
+but he would probably have been somewhat chagrined had he known how
+little Helen really attended to his remarks; her mind was in a
+whirl, and all that he said sounded distant and vague; her one wish
+was that he might stay and give her time to think.
+
+But Helen found the uselessness of shrinking, and the time came at
+last when she saw to her despair that there was no more to say, and
+that the man must go. In a few minutes more he was actually gone,
+and she was left all alone in the great house with Mr. Harrison.
+
+The two went back into the dining room, where Mr. Harrison stood
+leaning his hand upon the table, and Helen stood in front of him,
+her lips trembling. Twice she made a faint attempt to speak, and
+then she turned and began pacing up and down the room in agitation.
+Mr. Harrison was watching her, seeing that there was something on
+her mind, and also that her emotion made her more beautiful and more
+disturbing to him than ever.
+
+At last Helen went and sat down upon a sofa at one side, and
+clenching her hands very tightly about her knees, looked up at him
+and said, in a faint voice, “I had something to say to you, Mr.
+Harrison.” Then she stopped, and her eyes fell, and her breath came
+very hard.
+
+“What is it, dear?” asked Mr. Harrison gently.
+
+And Helen's lips trembled more than ever, and her voice sank still
+lower as she said, “I--I don't know how to begin.”
+
+The other was silent for a few moments more, after which he came
+slowly across the room and sat down beside her.
+
+“Helen,” he said, “I had something to say to you also; suppose I say
+it first?”
+
+The girl's chest was heaving painfully, and her heart throbbing
+violently, but she gazed into his eyes, and smiled, and answered him
+“Very well.” He took one of her burning hands in his, and she made
+no resistance.
+
+“Helen, dear,” he said, “do you remember it was nearly a week ago
+that we stood in this same room, and that you promised to be my
+wife? You were very cold to me then. I have been waiting patiently
+for you to change a little, not venturing to say anything for fear
+of offending you. But it is very hard--”
+
+He had bent forward pleadingly, and his face was very close to hers,
+trying to read her heart. Perhaps it was well that he could not, for
+it would have frightened him. The moment was one of fearful
+suffering for Helen, tho there was no sign of it, except that she
+was trembling like a leaf, and that her lips were white. There was
+just a moment of suspense, and then with a cruel effort she mastered
+herself and gazed up at the man, a smile forcing itself to her lips
+again.
+
+“What is it that you wish?” she asked.
+
+“I want you to care for me,” the other said--“to love me just a
+little, Helen; will you?”
+
+“I--I think so,” was the reply, in a scarcely audible voice.
+
+And Mr. Harrison pressed her hand in his and bent forward eagerly.
+“Then I may kiss you, dear?” he asked; “you will not mind?”
+
+And Helen bowed her head and answered, “No.” In this same instant,
+as she sank forward the man clasped her in his arms; he pressed her
+upon his bosom, and covered her cheeks and forehead with his
+passionate, burning kisses. Helen, crushed and helpless in his
+grasp, felt a revulsion of feeling so sudden and so overwhelming
+that it was an agony to her, and she almost screamed aloud. She was
+choking and shuddering, and her cheeks were on fire, while in the
+meantime Mr. Harrison, almost beside himself with passion, pressed
+her tighter to him and poured out his protestations of devotion.
+Helen bore it until she was almost mad with the emotion that had
+rushed over her, and then she made a wild effort to tear herself
+free. Her hair was disordered, and her face red, and her whole being
+throbbing with shame, but he still held her in his tight embrace.
+
+“You are not angry, Helen dear?” he asked.
+
+“No,” the girl gasped
+
+“You told me that I might kiss you,” he said; and she was so choking
+with her emotion that she could not answer a word, she could only
+shudder and submit to his will. And Mr. Harrison, supposing that her
+emotions were very different from what they were, rested her head
+upon his shoulder, smoothing back her tangled hair and whispering
+into her ear how beautiful she was beyond any dream of his, and how
+the present moment was the happiest of his lifetime.
+
+“I thought it would never come, dear,” he said, kissing her forehead
+again, “you were so very cold.” Helen had not yet ceased fighting
+the fearful battle in her own heart, and so as he looked into her
+eyes, she gazed up at him and forced another ghastly smile to her
+lips: they looked so very beautiful that Mr. Harrison kissed them
+again and again, and he would probably have been content to kiss
+them many times more, and to forget everything else in the bliss,
+had Helen been willing.
+
+But she felt just then that if the strain continued longer she would
+go mad; with a laugh that was half hysterical, she tore herself
+loose by main force, and sprang up, reminding the other that he had
+a train to catch. Mr. Harrison demurred, but the girl would hear no
+more, and she took him by the hand and led him to the door, still
+laughing, and very much flushed and excited, so that he thought she
+was happier than ever. It would have startled him could he have seen
+her as he went to call for the horses,--how she staggered and clung
+to a pillar for support, as white as the marble she leaned against.
+
+He did not see her, however, and when the two were driving rapidly
+away she was as vivacious as ever; Helen had fought yet one more
+conflict, and her companion was not skilled enough in the study of
+character to perceive that it was a desperate and hysterical kind of
+animation. Poor Helen was facing gigantic shadows just then, and
+life wore its most fearful and menacing look to her; she had plunged
+so far in her contest that it was now a battle for life and death,
+and with no quarter. She had made the choice of “Der Atlas,” of
+endless joy or endless sorrow, and in her struggle to keep the joy
+she was becoming more and more frantic, more and more terrified at
+the thought of the other possibility. She knew that to fail now
+would mean shame and misery more overwhelming than she could bear,
+and so she was laughing and talking with frenzied haste; and every
+now and then she would stop and shudder, and then race wildly on,--
+
+  “Like one, that on a lonesome road
+    Doth walk in fear and dread,
+  And having once turned round walks on,
+    And turns no more his head;
+  Because he knows a frightful fiend
+    Doth close behind him tread.”
+
+And so all through the ride, because the girl's shame and fear
+haunted her more and more, she became more and more hysterical, and
+more and more desperate; and Mr. Harrison thought that he had never
+seen her so brilliant, and so daring, and so inspired; nor did he
+have the least idea how fearfully overwrought she was, until
+suddenly as they came to a fork in the road he took a different one
+than she expected, and she clutched him wildly by the arm. “Why do
+you do that?” she almost screamed. “Stop!”
+
+“What?” he asked in surprise. “Take this road?”
+
+“Yes!” exclaimed Helen. “Stop! Stop!”
+
+“But it's only half a mile or so farther,” said Mr. Harrison,
+reining up his horses, “and I thought you'd like the change.”
+
+“Yes,” panted Helen, with more agitation than ever. “But I
+can't,--we'd have to go through Hilltown!”
+
+The wondering look of course did not leave the other's face at that
+explanation. “You object to Hilltown?” he asked.
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, shuddering; “it is a horrible place.”
+
+“Why, I thought it was a beautiful town,” laughed he. “But of course
+it is for you to say.” Then he gazed about him to find a place to
+turn the carriage. “We'll have to go on a way,” he said. “The road
+is too narrow here. I'm sorry I didn't ask you, but I had no idea it
+made any difference.”
+
+They continued, however, for fully a mile, and the road remained
+narrow, so that there was danger of upsetting in the ditch if they
+tried to turn. “What do you wish me to do?” Mr. Harrison asked with
+a smile. “The more we go on the longer it will take us if we are to
+go back, and I may miss my train; is your prejudice against Hilltown
+so very strong, Miss Davis?”
+
+“Oh, no,” Helen answered, with a ghastly smile. “Pray go on; it's of
+no consequence.”
+
+As a matter of fact, it was of the greatest consequence; for that
+incident marked the turning point of the battle in Helen's heart.
+Her power seemed to go from her with every turn of the wheels that
+brought her nearer to that dreaded place, and she became more and
+more silent, and more conscious of the fearful fact that her
+wretchedness was mastering her again. It seemed to her terrified
+imagination as if everything was growing dark and threatening, as
+before the breaking of a thunderstorm.
+
+“You must indeed dislike Hilltown, Miss Davis,” said her companion,
+smiling. “Why are you so very silent?”
+
+Helen made no reply; she scarcely heard him, in fact, so taken up
+was she with what was taking place in her own mind; all her thoughts
+then were about Arthur and what had become of him, and what he was
+thinking about her; and chiefest of all, because her cheeks and
+forehead had a fearfully conscious feeling, what he would think,
+could he know what she had just been doing. Thus it was that as the
+houses of Hilltown drew near, remorse and shame and terror were
+rising, and her frantic protests against them were weakening, until
+suddenly every emotion was lost in suspense, and the shadows of the
+great elm-trees that arched the main street of the town closed them
+in. Helen knew the house where Arthur lodged, and knew that she
+should pass it in another minute; she could do nothing but wait and
+watch and tremble.
+
+The carriage rattled on, gazed at by many curious eyes, for everyone
+in Hilltown knew about the young beauty and the prize she had
+caught; but Helen saw no one, and had eyes for only one thing, the
+little white house where Arthur lodges. The carriage swept by and
+she saw no one, but she saw that the curtain of Arthur's room was
+drawn, and she shuddered at the thought, “Suppose he should be
+dying!” Yet it was a great load off her mind to have escaped seeing
+him, and she was beginning to breathe again and ask herself if she
+still might not win the battle, when the carriage came to the end of
+the town, and to a sight that froze her blood.
+
+There was a tavern by the roadside, a low saloon that was the curse
+of the place, and she saw from the distance a figure come out of the
+door. Her heart gave a fearful throb, for it was a slender figure,
+clad in black, hatless and with disordered hair and clothing. In a
+moment more, as Helen clutched the rail beside her and stared
+wildly, the carriage had swept on and come opposite the man; and he
+glanced up into Helen's eyes, and she recognized the face, in spite
+of all its ghastly whiteness and its sunken cheeks; it was Arthur!
+
+There was just an instant's meeting of their looks, and then the
+girl was whirled on; but that one glance was enough to leave her as
+if paralyzed. She made no sound, nor any movement, and so her
+companion did not even know that anything had happened until they
+had gone half a mile farther; then as he chanced to glance at her he
+reined up his horses with a cry.
+
+“Helen!” he exclaimed. “What is the matter?” The girl clutched his
+arm so tightly that he winced, powerful man that he was. “Take me
+home,” she gasped. “Oh, quick, please take me home!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+    “Peace! Sit you down,
+  And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
+  If it be made of penetrable stuff.”
+
+Helen ran up to her room when she reached home, and shut herself in,
+and after that she had nothing to do but suffer. All of her
+excitement was gone from her then, and with it every spark of her
+strength; the fiends that had been pursuing her rose up and seized
+hold of her, and lashed her until she writhed and cried aloud in
+agony. She was helpless to resist them, knowing not which way to
+turn or what to do,--completely cowed and terrified. But there was
+no more sinking into the dull despair that had mastered her before;
+the face of Arthur, as she had seen it in that one glimpse, had been
+burned into her memory with fire, and she could not shut it from her
+sight; when the fact that he had come from the tavern, and what that
+must mean rose before her, it was almost more than she could bear,
+cry out as she might that she could not help it, that she never
+could have helped it, that she had nothing to do with it. Moreover,
+if there was any possibility of the girl's driving out that specter,
+there was always another to take its place. It was not until she was
+alone in her room, until all her resolution was gone, and all of her
+delusions, that she realized the actual truth about what she had
+done that afternoon; it was like a nightmare to her then. She seemed
+always to feel the man's arms clasping her, and whenever she thought
+of his kisses her forehead burned her like fire, so that she flung
+herself down by the bedside, and buried it in the pillows.
+
+It was thus that her aunt found her when she came in to call Helen
+to dinner; and this time the latter's emotions were so real and so
+keen that there was no prevailing over them, or persuading her to
+anything. “I don't want to eat!” she cried again and again in answer
+to her aunt's alarmed insistence. “No, I am not coming down! I want
+to be alone! Alone, Aunt Polly--please leave me alone!”
+
+“But, Helen,” protested Mrs. Roberts, “won't you please tell me what
+is the matter? What in the world can have happened to you?”
+
+“I can't tell you,” the girl cried hysterically. “I want you to go
+and leave me alone!” And she shut the door and locked it, and then
+began pacing wildly up and down the room, heedless of the fact that
+her aunt was still standing out in the hallway; the girl was too
+deeply shaken just then to have any thought about appearances.
+
+She was thinking about Arthur again, and about his fearful plight;
+there rushed back upon her all the memories of their childhood, and
+of the happiness which they had known together. The thought of the
+broken figure which she had seen by the roadside became more fearful
+to her every moment. It was not that it troubled her conscience, for
+Helen could still argue to herself that she had done nothing to
+wrong her friend, that there had been nothing selfish in her
+attitude towards him; she had wished him to be happy. It seemed to
+her that it was simply a result of the cruel perversity of things
+that she had been trampling upon her friend's happiness in order to
+reach her own, and that all her struggling had only served to make
+things worse. The fact that it was not her fault, however, did not
+make the situation seem less tragic and fearful to her; it had come
+to such a crisis now that it drove her almost mad to think about it,
+yet she was completely helpless to know what to do, and as she
+strode up and down the room, she clasped her hands to her aching
+head and cried aloud in her perplexity.
+
+Then too her surging thoughts hurried on to another unhappiness,--to
+her father, and what he would say when he learned the dreadful news.
+How could she explain it to him? And how could she tell him about
+her marriage? At the mere thought of that the other horror seized
+upon her again, and she sank down in a chair by the window and hid
+her face in her hands.
+
+“Oh, how can I have done it?” she gasped to herself. “Oh, it was so
+dreadful! And what am I to do now?”
+
+That last was the chief question, the one to which all others led;
+yet it was one to which she could find no answer. She was completely
+confused and helpless, and she exclaimed aloud again and again, “Oh,
+if I could only find some one to tell me! I do not know how I can
+keep Arthur from behaving in that dreadful way, and I know that I
+cannot ever marry Mr. Harrison!”
+
+The more she tortured herself with these problems, the more agitated
+she became. She sat there at the window, clutching the sill in her
+hands and staring out, seeing nothing, and knowing only that the
+time was flying, and that her anxiety was building itself up and
+becoming an agony which she could not bear.
+
+“Oh, what am I to do?” she groaned again and again; and she passed
+hours asking herself the fearful question; the twilight had closed
+about her, and the moon had risen behind the distant hills.
+
+So oblivious to all things about her was she, that she failed at
+first to notice something else, something which would ordinarily
+have attracted her attention at once,--a sound of music which came
+to her from somewhere near. It was the melody of Grieg's “An den
+Frubling” played upon a violin, and it had stolen into Helen's heart
+and become part of her own stormy emotion before she had even
+thought of what it was or whence it came. The little piece is the
+very soul of the springtime passion, and to the girl it was the very
+utterance of all her yearning, lifting her heart in a great
+throbbing prayer. When it had died away her hands were clenched very
+tightly, and her breath was coming fast.
+
+She remained thus for a minute, forgetful of everything; then at
+last she found herself thinking “it must be Mr. Howard,” and waiting
+to see if he would play again. But he did not do so, and Helen sat
+in silence for a long time, her thoughts turned to him. She found
+herself whispering “so he is a wonderful musician after all,” and
+noticing that the memory of his wan face frightened her no longer;
+it seemed just then that there could be no one in the world more
+wretched than herself. She was only wishing that he would begin
+again, for that utterance of her grief had seemed like a victory,
+and now in the silence she was sinking back into her despair. The
+more she waited, the more impatient she grew, until suddenly she
+rose from her seat.
+
+“He might play again if I asked him,” she said to herself. “He would
+if he knew I was unhappy; I wonder where he can be?”
+
+Helen's window was in the front of the house, opening upon a broad
+lawn whose walks were marked in the moonlight by the high shrubbery
+that lined them. Some distance beyond, down one of the paths, were
+two summer-houses, and it seemed to her that the music had come from
+one of them, probably the far one, for it had sounded very soft. No
+sooner had the thought come to her than she turned and went quietly
+to the door. She ran quickly down the steps, and seeing her aunt and
+Mr. Roberts upon the piazza, she turned and passed out by one of the
+side doors.
+
+Helen had yielded to a sudden impulse in doing thus, drawn by her
+yearning for the music. When she thought about it as she walked on
+it seemed to her a foolish idea, for the man could not possibly know
+of her trouble, and moreover was probably with his friend the
+lieutenant. But she did not stop even then, for her heart's hunger
+still drove her on, and she thought, “I'll see, and perhaps he will
+play again without my asking; I can sit in the near summer-house and
+wait.”
+
+She went swiftly on with that purpose in mind, not going upon the
+path, because she would have been in the full moonlight, and in
+sight of the two upon the piazza. She passed silently along by the
+high hedge, concealed in its shadows, and her footsteps deadened by
+the grass. She was as quiet as possible, wishing to be in the
+summer-house without anyone's knowing it.
+
+And she had come very close to it indeed, within a few yards, when
+suddenly she stopped short with an inward exclamation; the silence
+of the twilight had been broken by a voice--one that seemed almost
+beside her, and that startled her with a realization of the mistake
+she had made. The two men were themselves in the house to which she
+had been going.
+
+It was Mr. Howard's voice which she heard; he was speaking very low,
+almost in a whisper, yet Helen was near enough to hear every word
+that he uttered.
+
+“Most people would think it simply a happy and beautiful piece of
+music,” he said. “Most people think that of the springtime; but when
+a man has lived as I, he may find that the springtime too is a great
+labor and a great suffering,--he does not forget that for the
+thousands of creatures that win the great fight and come forth
+rejoicing, there are thousands and tens of thousands that go down,
+and have their mite of life crushed out, and find the law very stern
+indeed. Even those that win do it by a fearful effort, and cannot
+keep their beauty long; so that the springtime passion takes on a
+kind of desperate intensity when one thinks of it.”
+
+The voice ceased again for a moment, and Helen stood gazing about
+her; the words were not without a dimly-felt meaning to her just
+then, and the tone of the man's voice seemed like the music she had
+heard him play. She would have liked to stay and listen, tho she
+knew that she had no right to. She was certain that she had not been
+seen, because the little house was thickly wrapped about with
+eglantine; and she stood, uncertain as to whether she ought to steal
+back or go out and join the two men. In the meantime the voice began
+again:
+
+“It gives a man a new feeling of the preciousness of life to know
+keenly what it means to fail, to be like a tiny spark, struggling to
+maintain itself in the darkness, and finding that all it can do is
+not sufficient, and that it is sinking back into nothingness
+forever. I think that is the meaning of the wild and startled look
+that the creatures of the forest wear; and it is a very tragic thing
+indeed to realize, and makes one full of mercy. If he knows his own
+heart he can read the same thing in the faces of men, and he no
+longer even laughs at their pride and their greediness, but sees
+them quite infinitely wretched and pitiable. I do not speak merely
+of the poor and hopeless people, the hunted creatures of society;
+for this terror is not merely physical. It is the same imperative of
+life that makes conscience, and so every man knows it who has made
+himself a slave to his body, and sees the soul within him helpless
+and sinking; and every man who has sinned and sees his evil stamped
+upon the face of things outside him, in shapes of terror that must
+be forever. Strange as it may seem, I think the man who lives most
+rightly, the man of genius, knows the feeling most of all, because
+his conscience is the quickest. It is his task to live from his own
+heart, to take the power that is within him and wrestle with it, and
+build new universes from it,--to be a pioneer of the soul, so to
+speak, and to go where no man has ever been before; and yet all his
+victory is nothing to him, because he knows so well what he might
+have done. Every time that he shrinks, as he must shrink, from what
+is so hard and so high in his own vision, he knows that yet another
+glory is lost forever, and so it comes that he stands very near
+indeed to the'tears of things.'”
+
+Mr. Howard stopped again, and Helen found herself leaning forward
+and wondering.
+
+“I know more about those tears than most people,” the man went on
+slowly, after a long pause, “for I have had to build my own life in
+that way; I know best of all the failure, for that has been my lot.
+When you and I knew each other, I was very strong in my own heart,
+and I could always find what joy and power I needed for the living
+of my life; but there have come to me since, in the years that I
+have dwelt all alone with my great trial, times when I think that I
+have stood face to face with this thing that we speak of, this naked
+tragedy and terror of existence. There have been times when all the
+yearning and all the prayer that I had could not save me, when I
+have known that I had not an ounce of resource left, and have sat
+and watched the impulse of my soul die within me, and all my
+strength go from me, and seen myself with fearful plainness as a
+spark of yearning, a living thing in all its pitifulness and hunger,
+helpless and walled up in darkness. To feel that is to be very near
+indeed to the losing creatures and their sorrow, and the memory of
+one such time is enough to keep a man merciful forever. For it is
+really the deepest fact about life that a man can know;--how it is
+so hazardous and so precious, how it keeps its head above the great
+ocean of the infinite only by all the force it can exert; it happens
+sometimes that a man does not discover that truth until it is too
+late, and then he finds life very cruel and savage indeed, I can
+tell you.”
+
+Mr. Howard stopped, and Helen drew a deep breath; she had been
+trembling slightly as she stood listening; then as he spoke again,
+her heart gave a violent throb. “Some day,” he said, “this girl that
+we were talking about will have to come to that part of her life's
+journey; it is a very sad thing to know.”
+
+“She will understand her sonata better,” said the officer.
+
+“No,” was the reply; “I wish I could think even that; I know how
+sorrow affects a person whose heart is true, how it draws him close
+to the great heart of life, and teaches him its sacredness, and
+sends him forth merciful and humble. But selfish misery and selfish
+fear are no less ugly than selfish happiness; a person who suffers
+ignobly becomes only disgusted and disagreeable, and more selfish
+than ever. * * * But let us not talk any more about Miss Davis, for
+it is not a pleasant subject; to a man who seeks as I do to keep his
+heart full of worship the very air of this place is stifling, with
+its idleness and pride. It gives the lie to all my faith about life,
+and I have only to go back into my solitude and forget it as soon as
+I can.”
+
+“That ought not to be a difficult thing to do,” said the officer.
+
+“It is for me,” the other answered; “it haunts my thoughts all the
+time.” He paused for a while, and then he added, “I happened to
+think of something I came across this morning, in a collection of
+French verse I was reading; William, did you ever read anything of
+Auguste Brizeux?”
+
+The other answered in the negative.
+
+“He has some qualities that are very rare in French poetry,” went on
+Mr. Howard. “He makes one think of Wordsworth. I happened to read a
+homely little ballad of his,--a story of some of that tragedy of
+things that we spoke of; one could name hundreds of such poems quite
+as good, I suppose, but this happened to be the one I came across,
+and I could not help thinking of Miss Davis and wondering if she
+were really so cold and so hard that she could have heard this story
+without shuddering. For it really shook me very much.”
+
+“What is it?” the other asked.
+
+“I can tell you the story in a few words,” said Mr. Howard. “To me
+it was one of those flashes of beauty that frighten one and haunt
+him long afterwards; and I do not quite like to think about it
+again.”
+
+The speaker's voice dropped, and the girl involuntarily crept a
+little nearer to hear him; there was a tree in front of her, and she
+leaned against it, breathing very hard, tho making no sound.
+
+“The ballad is called 'Jacques the Mason,'” said Mr. Howard, “There
+are three little pictures in it; in the first of them you see two
+men setting off to their work together, one of them bidding his wife
+and children good-by, and promising to return with his friend for an
+evening's feast, because the great building is to be finished. Then
+you see them at work, swarming upon the structure and rejoicing in
+their success; and then you hear the shouts of the crowd as the
+scaffolding breaks, and see those two men hanging over the abyss,
+clinging to a little plank. It is not strong enough to hold them
+both, and it is cracking, and that means a fearful death; they try
+to cling to the stones of the building and cannot, and so there
+comes one of those fearful moments that makes a man's heart break to
+think of. Then in the fearful silence you hear one of the men
+whisper that he has three children and a wife; and you see the other
+gaze at him an instant with terror in his eyes, and then let go his
+hold and shoot down to the street below. And that is all of the
+story.”
+
+Mr. Howard stopped, and there followed a long silence; afterwards he
+went on, his voice trembling: “That is all,” he said, “except of
+course that the man was killed. And I can think of nothing but that
+body hurled down through the air, and the crushed figure and the
+writhing limbs. I fancy the epic grandeur of soul of that poor
+ignorant laborer, and the glory that must have flamed up in his
+heart at that great instant; so I find it a dreadful poem, and
+wonder if it would not frighten that careless girl to read it.”
+
+Mr. Howard stopped again, and the officer asked if the story were
+true.
+
+“I do not know that,” answered the other, “nor do I care; it is
+enough to know that every day men are called upon to face the
+shuddering reality of existence in some such form as that. And the
+question which it brought to my heart is, if it came to me, as
+terrible as that, and as sudden and implacable, would I show myself
+the man or the dastard? And that filled me with a fearful awe and
+humility, and a guilty wonder whether somewhere in the world there
+might not be a wall from which I should be throwing myself, instead
+of nursing my illness as I do, and being content to read about
+greatness. And oh, I tell you, when I think of such things as that,
+and see the pride and worthlessness of this thing that men call
+'high life,' it seemed to me no longer heedless folly, but dastardly
+and fiendish crime, so that one can only bury his face in his hands
+and sob to know of it. And William, the more I realized it, the more
+unbearable it seemed to me that this glorious girl with all her
+God-given beauty, should be plunging herself into a stream so foul.
+I felt as if it were cowardice of mine that I did not take her by
+the hand and try to make her see what madness she was doing.”
+
+“Why do you not?” asked the lieutenant.
+
+“I think I should have, in my more Quixotic days,” replied the
+other, sadly; “and perhaps some day I may find myself in a kind of
+high life where royal sincerity is understood. But in this world
+even an idealist has to keep a sense of humor, unless he happens to
+be dowered with an Isaiah's rage.”
+
+Mr. Howard paused for a moment and laughed slightly; then, however,
+he went on more earnestly: “Yet, as I think of it, I know that I
+could frighten her; I think that if I should tell her of some of the
+days and nights that I have spent in tossing upon a bed of fire, she
+might find the cup of her selfishness a trifle less pleasant to
+drink. It is something that I have noticed with people, that they
+may be coarse or shallow enough to laugh at virtue and earnestness,
+but there are very few who do not bow their heads before suffering.
+For that is something physical; and they may harden their conscience
+if they please, but from the possibility of bodily pain they know
+that they can never be safe; and they seem to know that a man who
+has walked with that demon has laid his hand upon the grim reality
+of things, before which their shams and vanities shrink into
+nothingness. The sight of it is always a kind of warning of the
+seriousness of life, and so even when people feel no sympathy, they
+cannot but feel fear; I saw for instance, that the first time this
+girl saw me she turned pale, and she would not come anywhere near
+me.”
+
+As the speaker paused again, Lieutenant Maynard said, very quietly:
+“I should think that would be a hard cross to bear, David.”
+
+“No,” said Mr. Howard, with a slight smile, “I had not that thought
+in my mind. I have seen too much of the reality of life to trouble
+myself or the the world with vanity of that very crude kind; I can
+sometimes imagine myself being proud of my serenity, but that is one
+step beyond at any rate. A man who lives in his soul very seldom
+thinks of himself in an external way; when I look in the glass it is
+generally to think how strange it is that this form of mine should
+be that which represents me to men, and I cannot find anything they
+might really learn about me, except the one physical fact of
+suffering.”
+
+“They can certainly not fail to learn that,” said the other.
+
+“Yes,” replied Mr. Howard sadly, “I know, if any man does, what it
+is to earn one's life by suffering and labor. That is why I have so
+mastering a sense of life's preciousness, and why I cannot reconcile
+myself to this dreadful fact of wealth. It is the same thing, too,
+that makes me feel so keenly about this girl and her beauty, and
+keeps her in my thoughts. I don't think I could tell you how the
+sight of her affected me, unless you knew how I have lived all these
+lonely years. For I have had no friends and no strength for any of
+the world's work, and all my battle has been with my own soul, to be
+brave and to keep my self-command through all my trials; I think my
+illness has acted as a kind of nervous stimulus upon me, as if it
+were only by laboring to dwell upon the heights of my being night
+and day that I could have strength to stand against despair. The
+result is that I have lived for days in a kind of frenzy of effort,
+with all my faculties at white heat; and it has always been the
+artist's life, it has always been beauty that brought me the joy
+that I needed, and given me the strength to go on. Beauty is the
+sign of victory, and the prize of it, in this heart's battle; the
+more I have suffered and labored, the more keenly I have come to
+feel that, until the commonest flower has a song for me. And
+William, the time I saw this girl she wore a rose in her hair, but
+she was so perfect that I scarcely saw the flower; there is that in
+a man's heart which makes it that to him the fairest and most sacred
+of God's creatures must always be the maiden. When I was young, I
+walked about the earth half drunk with a dream of love; and even
+now, when I am twice as old as my years, and burnt out and dying, I
+could not but start when I saw this girl. For I fancied that she
+must carry about in that maiden's heart of hers some high notion of
+what she meant in the world, and what was due to her. When a man
+gazes upon beauty such as hers, there is a feeling that comes to him
+that is quite unutterable, a feeling born of all the weakness and
+failure and sin of his lifetime. For every true man's life is a
+failure; and this is the vision that he sought with so much pain,
+the thing that might have been, had he kept the faith with his own
+genius. It is so that beauty is the conscience of the artist; and
+that there must always be something painful and terrible about high
+perfection. It was that way that I felt when I saw this girl's face,
+and I dreamt my old dream of the sweetness and glory of a maiden's
+heart. I thought of its spotlessness and of its royal scorn of
+baseness; and I tell you, William, if I had found it thus I could
+have been content to worship and not even ask that the girl look at
+me. For a man, when he has lived as I have lived, can feel towards
+anything more perfect than himself a quite wonderful kind of
+humility; I know that all the trouble with my helpless struggling is
+that I must be everything to myself, and cannot find anything to
+love, and so be at peace. That was the way I felt when I saw this
+Miss Davis, all that agitation and all that yearning; and was it not
+enough to make a man mock at himself, to learn the real truth? I was
+glad that it did not happen to me when I was young and dependent
+upon things about me; is it not easy to imagine how a young man
+might make such a woman the dream of his life, how he might lay all
+his prayer at her feet, and how, when he learned of her fearful
+baseness, it might make of him a mocking libertine for the rest of
+his days?”
+
+“You think it baseness?” asked Lieutenant Maynard.
+
+“I tried to persuade myself at first that it must be only blindness;
+I wondered to myself, 'Can she not see the difference between the
+life of these people about her and the music and poetry her aunt
+tells me she loves?' I never waste any of my worry upon the old and
+hardened of these vulgar and worldly people; it is enough for me to
+know why the women are dull and full of gossip, and to know how much
+depth there is in the pride and in the wisdom of the men. But it was
+very hard for me to give up my dream of the girl's purity; I
+rememher I thought of Heine's 'Thou art as a flower,' and my heart
+was full of prayer. I wondered if it might not be possible to tell
+her that one cannot combine music and a social career, and that one
+cannot really buy happiness with sin; I thought that perhaps she
+might be grateful for the warning that in cutting herself off from
+the great deepening experience of woman she was consigning herself
+to stagnation and wretchedness from which no money could ever
+purchase her ransom; I thought that possibly she did not see that
+this man knew nothing of her preciousness and had no high thoughts
+about her beauty. That was the way I argued with myself about her
+innocence, and you may fancy the kind of laughter that came over me
+at the truth. It is a ghastly thing, William, the utter hardness,
+the grim and determined worldliness, of this girl. For she knew very
+well what she was doing, and all the ignorance was on my part. She
+had no care about anything in the world until that man came in, and
+the short half hour that I watched them was enough to tell her that
+her life's happiness was won. But only think of her, William, with
+all her God-given beauty, allowing herself to be kissed by him! Try
+to fancy what new kind of fiendishness must lie in her heart! I
+remember that she is to marry him because he pays her millions, and
+the word prostitution keeps haunting my memory; when I try to define
+it, I find that the millions do not alter it in the least. That is a
+very cruel thought,--a thought that drives away everything but the
+prayer--and I sit and wonder what fearful punishment the hand of
+Fate will deal out for such a thing as that, what hatefulness it
+will stamp upon her for a sign to men. And then because the perfect
+face still haunts my memory, I have a very Christ-like feeling
+indeed,--that I could truly die to save that girl from such a
+horror.”
+
+There was another long silence, and then suddenly, Mr. Howard rose
+from his seat. “William,” he said in a different voice, “it is all
+useless, so why should we talk so? The girl has to live her own life
+and learn these things for herself. And in the meantime, perhaps I
+am letting myself be too much moved by her beauty, for there are
+many people in the world who are not beautiful, but who suffer
+things they do not deserve to suffer, and who really deserve our
+sympathy and help.”
+
+“I fancy you'd not be much thanked for it in this case,” said the
+other, with a dry laugh.
+
+Mr. Howard stood for some moments in silence, and then turned away
+to end the conversation. “I fear,” he said, “that I have kept you
+more than I have any right to. Let us go back to the house; it is
+not very polite to our hostess to stay so long.”
+
+“It must be nearly time for my train, anyhow,” said the officer, and
+a moment later the two had passed out of the summer-house and up the
+path, Lieutenant Maynard carrying Mr. Howard's violin-case in his
+hand.
+
+The two did not see Helen as they passed her; the reason was that
+Helen was stretched out upon the ground by the side of the hedge. It
+was not that she was hiding,--she had no thought of that; it was
+because she had been struck there by the scathing words that she had
+heard. Some of them were so bitter that they could only have filled
+her with rage had she not known that they were true, and had she not
+been awed by what she had learned of this man's heart. She could
+feel only terror and fiery shame, and the cruel words had beaten her
+down, first upon her knees, and then upon her face, and they lashed
+her like whips of flame and tore into her flesh and made her writhe.
+She dared not cry out, or even sob; she could only dig into the
+ground with her quivering fingers, and lie there, shuddering in a
+fearful way. Long after the two men were gone her cruel punishment
+still continued, for she still seemed to hear his words, seared into
+her memory with fire as they had been. What Mr. Howard had said had
+come like a flash of lightning in the darkness to show her actions
+as they really were; the last fearful sentences which she had heard
+had set all her being aflame, and the thought of Mr. Harrison's
+embraces filled her now with a perfect spasm of shame and loathing.
+
+“I sold myself to him for money!” she panted. “Oh, God, for money!”
+
+But then suddenly she raised herself up and stared about her, crying
+out, half-hysterically, “No, no, it is not true! It is not true! I
+could never have done it--I should have gone mad!” And a moment
+later Helen had staggered to her feet. “I must tell him,” she
+gasped. “He must not think so of me!”
+
+Mr. Howard had come to her as a vision from a higher world, making
+all that she had known and admired seem hideous and base; and her
+one thought just then was of him. “He will still scorn me,” she
+thought, “but I must tell him I really did suffer.” And heedless of
+the fact that her hair was loose about her shoulders and her dress
+wet with the dew of the grass, the girl ran swiftly up the lawn
+towards the house, whispering again and again, “I must tell him!”
+
+It was only a minute more before she was near the piazza, and could
+see the people upon it as they stood in the lighted doorway. Mr.
+Howard was one of them, and Helen would have rushed blindly up to
+speak to him, had it not been that another thought came to her to
+stop her.
+
+“Suppose he should know of Arthur!” she muttered, clenching her
+hands until the nails cut her flesh. “Oh, what would he think then?
+And what could I tell him?” And she shrank back into the darkness,
+like a black and guilty thing. She crept around the side of the
+house and entered by another door, stealing into one of the darkened
+parlors, where she flung herself down upon a sofa and lay trembling
+before that new terror. When a few minutes had passed and she heard
+a carriage outside, she sprang up wildly, with the thought that he
+might be going. She had run half way to the door before she
+recollected that the carriage must be for the lieutenant, and then
+she stopped and stood still in the darkness, twisting her hands
+together nervously and asking herself what she could do.
+
+It occurred to her that she could look down the piazza from the
+window of the room, and so she went swiftly to it. The officer was
+just descending to the carriage, Mr. Roberts with him, and her aunt
+and Mr. Howard standing at the top of the steps, the latter's figure
+clearly outlined in the moonlight. Helen's heart was so full of
+despair and yearning just then that she could have rushed out and
+flung herself at his feet, had he been alone; but she felt a new
+kind of shrinking from her aunt. She stood hesitating, therefore,
+muttering to herself, “I must let him know about it somehow, and he
+will tell me what to do. Oh, I MUST! And I must tell him now, before
+it is too late!”
+
+She stood by the window, panting and almost choking with her
+emotion, kneading her hands one upon the other in frenzied
+agitation; and then she heard Mr. Howard say to her aunt, “I shall
+have to ask you to excuse me now, for I must not forget that I am an
+invalid.” And Helen clutched her burning temples, seeing him turn to
+enter the house, and seeing that her chance was going. She glanced
+around her, almost desperate, and then suddenly her heart gave a
+great leap, for just beside her was something that had brought one
+resource to her mind. She had seen the piano in the dim light, and
+had thought suddenly of the song that Mr. Howard had mentioned.
+
+“He will remember!” she thought swiftly, as she ran to the
+instrument and sat down before it. With a strength born of her
+desperation she mastered the quivering of her hands, and catching
+her breath, began in a weak and trembling voice the melody of
+Rubenstein:
+
+  “Thou art as a flower,
+    So pure and fair thou art;
+  I gaze on thee, and sorrow
+    Doth steal into my heart.
+
+  “I would lay my hands upon thee,
+    Upon thy snowy brow,
+  And pray that God might keep thee
+    So pure and fair as now.”
+
+Helen did not know how she was singing, she thought only of telling
+her yearning and her pain; she was so choked with emotion that she
+could scarcely utter a sound at all, and the song must have startled
+those who heard it. It was laden with all the tears that had been
+gathering in Helen's heart for days.
+
+She did not finish the song; she was thinking, “Will he understand?”
+ She stopped suddenly as she saw a shadow upon the porch outside,
+telling her that Mr Howard had come nearer. There was a minute or so
+of breathless suspense and then, as the shadow began to draw slowly
+backwards, Helen clenched her hands convulsively, whispering to
+herself, “He will think it was only an accident! Oh, what can I do?”
+
+There are some people all of whose emotions take the form of music;
+there came into Helen's mind at that instant a melody that was the
+very soul of her agitation and her longing--MacDowell's “To a Water
+Lily;” the girl thought of what Mr. Howard had said about the
+feeling that comes to suffering mortals at the sight of something
+perfect and serene, and she began playing the little piece, very
+softly, and with trembling hands.
+
+It is quite wonderful music; to Helen with her heart full of grief
+and despair, the chords that floated so cold and white and high were
+almost too much to be borne. She played desperately on, however,
+because she saw that Mr. Howard had stopped again, and she did not
+believe that he could fail to understand that music.
+
+So she continued until she came to the pleading song of the swan.
+The music is written to a poem of Geibel's which tells of the
+snow-white lily, and of the bird which wonders at its beauty;
+afterwards, because there is nothing in all nature more cold and
+unapproachable than a water-lily, and because one might sing to it
+all day and never fancy that it heard him, the first melody rises
+again, as keen and as high as ever, and one knows that his yearning
+is in vain, and that there is nothing for him but his old despair.
+When Helen came to that she could go no farther, for her
+wretchedness had been heaping itself up, and her heart was bursting.
+Her fingers gave way as she struck the keys, and she sank down and
+hid her face in her arms, and broke into wild and passionate
+sobbing. She was almost choking with her pent-up emotions, so shaken
+that she was no longer conscious of what went on about her. She did
+not hear Mr. Howard's voice, as he entered, and she did not even
+hear the frightened exclamations of her aunt, until the latter had
+flung her arms about her. Then she sprang up and tore herself loose
+by main force, rushing upstairs and locking herself in her own room,
+where she flung herself down upon the bed and wept until she could
+weep no more, in the meantime not even hearing her aunt's voice from
+the hallway, and altogether unconscious of the flight of time.
+
+When she sat up and brushed away her tangled hair and gazed about
+her, everything in the house was silent. She herself was exhausted,
+but she rose, and after pacing up and down the room a few minutes,
+seated herself at the writing desk, and in spite of her trembling
+fingers, wrote a short note to Mr. Gerald Harrison; then with a deep
+breath of relief, she rose, and going to the window knelt down in
+front of it and gazed out.
+
+The moon was high in the sky by that time, and the landscape about
+her was flooded with its light. Everything was so calm and still
+that the girl held her breath as she watched it; but suddenly she
+gave a start, for she heard the sound of a violin again, so very
+faint that she at first thought she was deluding herself. As she
+listened, however, she heard it more plainly, and then she realized
+in a flash that Mr. Howard must have heard her long-continued
+sobbing, and that he was playing something for her. It was
+Schumann's “Traumerei;” and as the girl knelt there her soul was
+borne away upon the wings of that heavenly melody, and there welled
+up in her heart a new and very different emotion from any that she
+had ever known before; it was born, half of the music, and half of
+the calm and the stillness of the night,--that wonderful peace which
+may come to mortals either in victory or defeat, when they give up
+their weakness and their fear, and become aware of the Infinite
+Presence. When the melody had died away, and Helen rose, there was a
+new light in her eyes, and a new beauty upon her countenance, and
+she knew that her soul was right at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+  “Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
+  Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.”
+
+Naturally there was considerable agitation in the Roberts family on
+account of Helen's strange behavior; early the next morning Mrs.
+Roberts was at her niece's door, trying to gain admittance. This
+time she did not have to knock but once, and when she entered she
+was surprised to see that Helen was already up and dressing. She had
+been expecting to find the girl more prostrated than ever, and so
+the discovery was a great relief to her; she stood gazing at her
+anxiously.
+
+“Helen, dear,” she said, “I scarcely know how to begin to talk to
+you about your extraordinary--”
+
+“I wish,” interrupted Helen, “that you would not begin to talk to me
+about it at all.”
+
+“But you must explain to me what in the world is the matter,”
+ protested the other.
+
+“I cannot possibly explain to you,” was the abrupt reply. Helen's
+voice was firm, and there was a determined look upon her face, a
+look which quite took her aunt by surprise.
+
+“But, my dear girl!” she began once more.
+
+“Aunt Polly!” said the other, interrupting her again, “I wish
+instead of talking about it you would listen to what I have to say
+for a few moments. For I have made up my mind just what I am going
+to do, and I am going to take the reins in my own hands and not do
+any arguing or explaining to anyone. And there is no use of asking
+me a word about what has happened, for I could not hope to make you
+understand me, and I do not mean to try.”
+
+As Helen uttered those words she fixed her eyes upon her aunt with
+an unflinching gaze, with the result that Mrs. Roberts was quite too
+much taken aback to find a word to say.
+
+Without waiting for anything more Helen turned to the table. “Here
+is a letter,” she said, “which I have written to Mr. Harrison; you
+know his address in New York, I suppose?”
+
+“His address?” stammered the other; “why,--yes, of course. But what
+in the world--”
+
+“I wish this letter delivered to him at once, Aunt Polly,” Helen
+continued. “It is of the utmost importance, and I want you to do me
+the favor to send someone into the city with it by the next train.”
+
+“But, Helen, dear--”
+
+“Now please do not ask me anything about it,” went on the girl,
+impatiently. “I have told you that you must let me manage this
+affair myself. If you will not send it I shall simply have to get
+someone to take it. He must have it, and have it at once.”
+
+“Will it not do to mail it, Helen?”
+
+“No, because I wish him to get it this morning.” And Helen put the
+letter into her aunt's hands, while the latter gazed helplessly,
+first at it, and then at the girl. There is an essay of Bacon's in
+which is set forth the truth that you can bewilder and master anyone
+if you are only sufficiently bold and rapid; Mrs. Roberts was so
+used to managing everything and being looked up to by everyone that
+Helen's present mood left her quite dazed.
+
+Nor did the girl give her any time to recover her presence of mind.
+“There is only one thing more,” she said, “I want you to have
+breakfast as soon as you can, and then to let me have a carriage at
+once.”
+
+“A carriage?” echoed the other.
+
+“Yes, Aunt Polly, I wish to drive over to Hilltown immediately.”
+
+“To Hilltown!” gasped Aunt Polly with yet greater consternation, and
+showing signs of resistance at last; “pray what--”
+
+But Helen only came again to the attack, with yet more audacity and
+confidence. “Yes,” she said, “to Hilltown; I mean to go to see
+Arthur.”
+
+For answer to that last statement, poor Mrs. Roberts had simply no
+words whatever; she could only gaze, and in the meantime, Helen was
+going calmly on with her dressing, as if the matter were settled.
+
+“Will Mr. Howard be down to breakfast?” she asked.
+
+“As he is going away to-day, I presume he will be down,” was the
+reply, after which Helen quickly completed her toilet, her aunt
+standing by and watching her in the meantime.
+
+“Helen, dear,” she asked at last, after having recovered her
+faculties a trifle, “do you really mean that you will not explain to
+me a thing of what has happened, or of what you are doing?”
+
+“There is so much, Aunt Polly, that I cannot possibly explain it
+now; I have too much else to think of. You must simply let me go my
+way, and I will tell you afterwards.”
+
+“But, Helen, is that the right way to treat me? Is it nothing to
+you, all the interest that I have taken in this and all that I have
+done for you, that you should think so little of my advice?”
+
+“I do not need any advice now,” was the answer. “Aunt Polly, I see
+exactly what I should do, and I do not mean to stop a minute for
+anything else until I have done it. If it seems unkind, I am very
+sorry, but in the meantime it must be done.”
+
+And while she was saying the words, Helen was putting on her hat;
+then taking up her parasol and gloves she turned towards her aunt.
+“I am ready now,” she said, “and please let me have breakfast just
+as soon as you can.”
+
+The girl was so much preoccupied with her own thoughts and purposes
+that she scarcely even heard what her aunt said; she went down into
+the garden where she could be alone, and paced up and down
+impatiently until she heard the bell. Then she went up into the
+dining room, where she found her aunt and uncle in conversation with
+Mr. Howard.
+
+Helen had long been preparing herself to meet him, but she could not
+keep her cheeks from flushing or keep from lowering her eyes; she
+bit her lips together, however, and forced herself to look at him,
+saying very resolutely, “Mr. Howard, I have to drive over to
+Hilltown after breakfast, and I wish very much to talk to you about
+something; would you like to drive with me?”
+
+“Very much indeed,” said he, quietly, after which Helen said not a
+word more. She saw that her aunt and uncle were gazing at her and at
+each other in silent wonder, but she paid no attention to it. After
+eating a few hurried mouthfuls she excused herself, and rose and
+went outside, where she saw the driving-cart which had been bought
+for her use, waiting for her. It was not much longer before Mr.
+Howard was ready, for he saw her agitation.
+
+“It is rather a strange hour to start upon a drive,” she said to
+him, “but I have real cause for hurrying; I will explain about it.”
+ And then she stopped, as her aunt came out to join them.
+
+It was only a moment more before Mr. Howard had excused himself, and
+the two were in the wagon, Helen taking the reins. She waved a
+farewell to her aunt and then started the horse, and they were
+whirled swiftly away down the road.
+
+All the morning Helen's mind had been filled with things that she
+wished to say to Mr. Howard. But now all her resolution seemed to
+have left her, and she was trembling very much, and staring straight
+ahead, busying herself with guiding the horse. When they were out
+upon the main road where they might go as fast as they pleased
+without that necessity, she swallowed the lump in her throat and
+made one or two nervous attempts to speak.
+
+Mr. Howard in the meantime had been gazing in front of him
+thoughtfully. “Miss Davis,” he said suddenly, turning his eyes upon
+her, “may I ask you a question?”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen faintly.
+
+“You heard all that I said about you last night?”
+
+And Helen turned very red and looked away. “Yes, I heard it all,”
+ she said; and then there was a long silence.
+
+It was broken by the man, who began in a low voice: “I scarcely know
+how, Miss Davis, I can apologize to you--”
+
+And then he stopped short, for the girl had turned her glance upon
+him, wonderingly. “Apologize?” she said; she had never once thought
+of that view of it, and the word took her by surprise.
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Howard; “I said so many hard and cruel things that I
+cannot bear to think of them.”
+
+Helen still kept her eyes fixed upon him, as she said, “Did you say
+anything that was not true, Mr. Howard?”
+
+The man hesitated a moment, and then he answered: “I said many
+things that I had no right to say to you.”
+
+“That is not it,” said Helen simply. “Did you say anything that was
+not true?”
+
+Again Mr. Howard paused. “I am quite sure that I did,” he said at
+last. “Most of what I said I feel to have been untrue since I have
+seen how it affected you.”
+
+“Because it made me so ashamed?” said Helen. And then some of the
+thoughts that possessed her forced their way out, and she hurried on
+impetuously: “That was the first thing I wanted to tell you. It is
+really true that you were wrong, for I am not hard-hearted at all.
+It was something that my--that people were making me do, and all the
+time I was wretched. It was dreadful, I know, but I was tempted,
+because I do love beautiful things. And it was all so sudden, and I
+could not realize it, and I had nobody to advise me, for none of the
+people I meet would think it was wrong. You must talk to me and help
+me, because I've got to be very strong; my aunt will be angry, and
+when I get back perhaps Mr. Harrison will be there, and I shall have
+to tell him.”
+
+Then the girl stopped, out of breath and trembling with excitement;
+Mr. Howard turned abruptly and fixed his dark eyes upon her.
+
+“Tell him,” he said. “Tell him what?”
+
+“That I shall not marry him, of course,” answered Helen; the other
+gave a start, but she was so eager that she did not even notice it.
+“I could not lose a minute,” she said. “For it was so very dreadful,
+you know.”
+
+“And you really mean not to marry him?” asked the other.
+
+“Mean it!” echoed the girl, opening her eyes very wide. “Why, how in
+the world could you suppose--” And then she stopped short, and
+laughed nervously. “Of course,” she said, “I forgot; you might
+suppose anything. But, oh, if I could tell you how I have suffered,
+Mr. Howard, you would understand that I could never have such a
+thought again in the world. Please do understand me, for if I had
+really been so base I should not come to you as I do after what I
+heard. I cannot tell you how dreadfully I suffered while I was
+listening, but after I had cried so much about it, I felt better,
+and it seemed to me that it was the best thing that could have
+happened to me, just to see my actions as they seemed to someone
+else,--to someone who was good. I saw all at once the truth of what
+I was doing, and it was agony to me to know that you thought so of
+me. That was why I could not rest last night until I had told you
+that I was really unhappy; for it was something that I was unhappy,
+wasn't it, Mr. Howard?”
+
+“Yes,” said the other, “it was very much indeed.”
+
+“And oh, I want you to know the truth,” Helen went on swiftly.
+“Perhaps it is just egotism on my part, and I have really no right
+to tell you all about myself in this way; and perhaps you will scorn
+me when you come to know the whole truth. But I cannot help telling
+you about it, so that you may advise me what to do; I was all
+helpless and lost, and what you said came last night like a
+wonderful light. And I don't care what you think about me if you
+will only tell me the real truth, in just the same way that you did;
+for I realized afterwards that it was that which had helped me so.
+It was the first time in my life that it had ever happened to me;
+when you meet people in the world, they only say things that they
+know will please you, and that does you no good. I never realized
+before how a person might go through the world and really never meet
+with another heart in all his life; and that one can be fearfully
+lonely, even in a parlor full of people. Did you ever think of that,
+Mr. Howard?”
+
+Mr. Howard had fixed his keen eyes upon the girl as she went
+breathlessly on; she was very pale, and the sorrow through which she
+had passed had left, “I have been so cold and wicked, that
+you will soon scorn me altogether.”
+
+“I do not think that is possible,” said her companion, gently, as he
+saw the girl choking back a sob.
+
+“Well, listen then,” Helen began; but then she stopped again. “Do
+you wish me to tell you?” she asked. “Do you care anything about it
+at all, or does it seem--”
+
+“I care very much about it, indeed,” the other answered.
+
+“However dreadful it may seem,” said Helen. “Oh, please know that
+while I have been doing it, it has made me utterly wretched, and
+that I am so frightened now that I can scarcely talk to you; and
+that if there is anything that I can do--oh, absolutely anything--I
+will do it!” Then the girl bit her lips together and went on with
+desperate haste, “It's what you said about what would happen if
+there were someone else to love me, and to see how very bad I was!”
+
+“There is some such person?” asked the man, in a low voice.
+
+“Yes,” said she. “It is someone I have known as long as I can
+remember. And he loves me very much indeed, I think; and while I was
+letting myself be tempted in this way he was very sick, and because
+I knew I was so bad I did not dare go near him; and yesterday when
+he heard I was going to marry this man, it almost killed him, and I
+do not know what to fear now.”
+
+Then, punishing herself very bravely and swallowing all her bitter
+shame, Helen went on to tell Mr. Howard of Arthur, and of her
+friendship with him, and of how long he had waited for her; she
+narrated in a few words how he had left her, and then how she had
+seen him upon the road. Afterwards she stopped and sat very still,
+trembling, and with her eyes lowered, quite forgetting that she was
+driving.
+
+“Miss Davis,” said the other, gently, seeing how she was suffering,
+“if you wish my advice about this, I should not worry myself too
+much; it is better, I find in my own soul's life, to save most of
+the time that one spends upon remorse, and devote it to action.”
+
+“To action?” asked Helen.
+
+“Yes,” said the other. “You have been very thoughtless, but you may
+hope that nothing irrevocable has happened; and when you have seen
+your friend and told him the truth just as you have told it to me, I
+fancy it will bring him joy enough to compensate him for what he has
+suffered.”
+
+“That was what I meant to do,” the girl went on. “But I have been
+terrified by all sorts of fancies, and when I remember how much pain
+I caused him, I scarcely dare think of speaking to him. When I saw
+him by the roadside, Mr. Howard, he seemed to me to look exactly
+like you, there was such dreadful suffering written in his face.”
+
+“A man who lives as you have told me your friend has lived,” said
+the other, “has usually a very great power of suffering; such a man
+builds for himself an ideal which gives him all his joy and his
+power, and makes his life a very glorious thing; but when anything
+happens to destroy his vision or to keep him from seeking it, he
+suffers with the same intensity that he rejoiced before. The great
+hunger that was once the source of his power only tears him to
+pieces then, as steam wrecks a broken engine.”
+
+“It's very dreadful,” Helen said, “how thoughtless I was all along.
+I only knew that he loved me very much, and that it was a vexation
+to me.”
+
+Mr. Howard glanced at her. “You do not love him?” he asked.
+
+“No,” said Helen, quickly. “If I had loved him, I could never have
+had a thought of all these other things. But I had no wish to love
+anybody; it was more of my selfishness.”
+
+“Perhaps not,” the other replied gently. “Some day you may come to
+love him, Miss Davis.”
+
+“I do not know,” Helen said. “Arthur was very impatient.”
+
+“When a man is swift and eager in all his life,” said Mr. Howard,
+smiling, “he cannot well be otherwise in his love. Such devotion
+ought to be very precious to a woman, for such hearts are not easy
+to find in the world.”
+
+Helen had turned and was gazing anxiously at Mr. Howard as he spoke
+to her thus. “You really think,” she said, “that I should learn to
+appreciate Arthur's love?”
+
+“I cannot know much about him from the little you have told me,” was
+the other's answer. “But it seems to me that it is there you might
+find the best chance to become the unselfish woman that you wish to
+be.”
+
+“It is very strange,” the girl responded, wonderingly, “how
+differently you think about it. I should have supposed I was acting
+very unwisely indeed if I loved Arthur; everyone would have told me
+of his poverty and obscurity, and of how I must give up my social
+career.”
+
+“I think differently, perhaps,” Mr. Howard said, “because I have
+lived so much alone. I have come to know that happiness is a thing
+of one's own heart, and not of externals; the questions I should ask
+about a marriage would not be of wealth and position. If you really
+wish to seek the precious things of the soul, I should think you
+would be very glad to prove it by some sacrifice; and I know that
+two hearts are brought closer, and all the memories of life made
+dearer, by some such trial in the early days. People sneer at love
+in a cottage, but I am sure that love that could wish to live
+anywhere else is not love. And as to the social career, a person who
+has once come to know the life of the heart soon ceases to care for
+any kind of life that is heartless; a social career is certainly
+that, and in comparison very vulgar indeed.”
+
+Helen looked a little puzzled, and repeated the word “vulgar”
+ inquiringly. Mr Howard smiled.
+
+“That is the word I always use when I am talking about high life,”
+ he said, laughing. “You may hurl the words 'selfish' and 'worldly'
+at it all you please, and never reach a vital spot; but the word
+'vulgar' goes straight to the heart.”
+
+“You must explain to me why it is that,” said Helen, with so much
+seriousness that the other could not help smiling again.
+
+“Perhaps I cannot make anyone else see the thing as I do,” was his
+reply. “And yet it seems rery simple. When a man lives a while in
+his own soul, he becomes aware of the existence of a certain
+spiritual fact which gives life all its dignity and meaning; he
+learns that this sacred thing demands to be sought for, and
+worshiped; and that the man who honors it and seeks it is only
+hailed as gentleman, and aristocrat, and that he who does not honor
+it and seek it is vulgar, tho he be heir of a hundred earls, and
+leader of all society, and lord of millions. Every day that one
+lives in this presence that I speak of, he discovers a little more
+how sacred a thing is true nobility, and how impertinent is the
+standard that values men for the wealth they win, or for the ribbons
+they wear, or for anything else in the world. I fancy that you, if
+you came once to love your friend, would find it very easy to do
+without the admiration of those who go to make up society; they
+would come to seem to you very trivial and empty people, and
+afterwards, perhaps, even very cruel and base.”
+
+Mr. Howard stopped; but then seeing that Helen was gazing at him
+inquiringly once more he added, gravely, “One could be well content
+to let vain people strut their little hour and be as wonderful as
+they chose, if it were not for the painful fact that they are eating
+the bread of honest men, and that millions are toiling and starving
+in order that they may have ease and luxury. That is such a very
+dreadful thing to know that sometimes one can think of nothing else,
+and it drives him quite mad.”
+
+The girl sat very still after that, trembling a little in her heart;
+finally she asked, her voice shaking slightly, “Mr. Howard, what can
+one do about such things?”
+
+“Very little,” was the reply, “for they must always be; but at least
+one can keep his own life earnest and true. A woman who felt such
+things very keenly might be an inspiration to a man who was called
+upon to battle with selfishness and evil.”
+
+“You are thinking of Arthur once more?” asked the girl.
+
+“Yes,” answered the other, with a slight smile. “It would be a happy
+memory for me, to know that I have been able to give you such an
+ideal. Some of these days, you see, I am hoping that we shall again
+have a poet with a conviction and a voice, so that men may know that
+sympathy and love are things as real as money. I am quite sure there
+never was a nation so ridiculously sodden as our own just at
+present; all of our maxims and ways of life are as if we were the
+queer little Niebelung creatures that dig for treasure in the bowels
+of the earth, and see no farther than the ends of their shovels; we
+live in the City of God, and spend all our time scraping the gold of
+the pavements. Your uncle told me this morning that he did not see
+why a boy should go to college when he can get a higher salary if he
+spends the four years in business. I find that there is nothing to
+do but to run away and live alone, if one wants really to believe
+that man is a spiritual nature, with an infinite possibility of
+wonder and love; and that the one business of his life is to develop
+that nature by contact with things about him; and that every act of
+narrow selfishness he commits is a veil which he ties about his own
+eyes, and that when he has tied enough of them, not all the pearl
+and gold of the gorgeous East can make him less a pitiable wretch.”
+
+Mr. Howard stopped again, and smiled slightly; Helen sat gazing
+thoughtfully ahead, thinking about his way of looking at life, and
+how very strange her own actions seemed in the light of it.
+Suddenly, however, because throughout all the conversation there had
+been another thought in her consciousness, she glanced ahead and
+urged the horse even faster. She saw far in the distance the houses
+of the place to which she was bound, and she said nothing more, her
+companion also becoming silent as he perceived her agitation.
+
+Helen had been constantly growing more anxious, so that now the
+carriage could not travel fast enough; it seemed to her that
+everything depended upon what she might find at Hilltown. It was
+only the thought of Arthur that kept her from feeling completely
+free from her wretchedness; she felt that she might remedy all the
+wrong that she had done, and win once more the prize of a good
+conscience, provided only that nothing irretrievable had happened to
+him. Now as she came nearer she found herself imagining more and
+more what might have happened, and becoming more and more impatient.
+There was a balance dangling before her eyes, with utter happiness
+on one side and utter misery on the other; the issue depended upon
+what she discovered at Hilltown.
+
+The two sat in silence, both thinking of the same thing, as they
+whirled past the place where Helen had seen Arthur before. The girl
+trembled as she glanced at it, for all of the previous day's
+suffering rose before her again, and made her fears still more real
+and importunate. She forced herself to look, however, half thinking
+that she might see Arthur again; but that did not happen, and in a
+minute or two more the carriage had come to the house where he
+lived. She gave the reins to Mr. Howard, and sprang quickly out; she
+rang the bell, and then stood for a minute, twitching her fingers,
+and waiting.
+
+The woman who kept the house, and whom Helen knew personally, opened
+the door; the visitor stepped in and gasped out breathlessly, “Where
+is Arthur?” Her hands shook visibly as she waited for the reply.
+
+“He is not in, Miss Davis,” the woman answered.
+
+“Where is he?” Helen cried.
+
+“I do not know,” was the response. “He has gone.”
+
+“Gone!” And the girl started back, catching at her heart. “Gone
+where?”
+
+“I do not know, Miss Davis.”
+
+“But what--” began the other.
+
+“This will tell you all I know,” said the woman, as she fumbled in
+her apron, and put a scrap of crumpled paper into Helen's trembling
+hands.
+
+The girl seized it and glanced at it; then she staggered back
+against the wall, ghastly pale and almost sinking. The note, in
+Arthur's hand, but so unsteady as to be almost illegible, ran thus:
+“You will find in this my board for the past week; I am compelled to
+leave Hilltown, and I shall not ever return.”
+
+And that was all. Helen stared at it and stared again, and then let
+it fall and gazed about her, echoing, in a hollow voice, “And I
+shall not ever return!”
+
+“That is all I can tell you about it,” went on the woman. “I have
+not seen him since Elizabeth was here yesterday morning; he came
+back late last night and packed his bag and went away.”
+
+Helen sank down upon a chair and buried her face in her hands, quite
+overwhelmed by the suddenness of that discovery. She remained thus
+for a long time, without either sound or motion, and the woman stood
+watching her, knowing full well what was the matter. When Helen
+looked up again there was agony written upon her countenance. “Oh,
+are you sure you have no idea where I can find him?” she moaned.
+
+“No, Miss Davis,” said the woman. “I was asounded when I got this
+note.”
+
+“But someone must know, oh, surely they must! Someone must have seen
+him,--or he must have told someone!”
+
+“I think it likely that he took care not to,” was the reply.
+
+The thought was a death-knell to Helen's last hope, and she sank
+down, quite overcome; she knew that Arthur could have had but one
+motive in acting as he had,--that he meant to cut himself off
+entirely from all his old life and surroundings. He had no friends
+in Hilltown, and having lived all alone, it would be possible for
+him to do it. Helen remembered Mr. Howard's saying of the night
+before, how the sight of her baseness might wreck a man's life
+forever, and the more she thought of that, the more it made her
+tremble. It seemed almost more than she could bear to see this
+fearful consequence of her sin, and to know that it had become a
+fact of the outer world, and gone beyond her power. It seemed quite
+too cruel that she should have such a thing on her conscience, and
+have it there forever; most maddening of all was the thought that it
+had depended upon a few hours of time.
+
+“Oh, how can I have waited!” she moaned. “I should have come last
+night, I should have stopped the carriage when I saw him! Oh, it is
+not possible!”
+
+Perhaps there are no more tragic words in human speech than “Too
+late.” Helen felt just then as if the right even to repentance were
+taken from her life. It was her first introduction to that fearful
+thing of which Mr. Howard had told her upon their first meeting; in
+the deep loneliness of her own heart Helen was face to face just
+then with FATE. She shrank back in terror, and she struggled
+frantically, but she felt its grip of steel about her wrist; and
+while she sat there with her face hidden, she was learning to gaze
+into its eyes, and front their fiery terror. When she looked up
+again her face was very white and pitiful to see, and she rose from
+her chair and went toward the door so unsteadily that the woman put
+her arm about her.
+
+“You will tell me,” she gasped faintly--“you will tell me if you
+hear anything?”
+
+“Yes,” said the other gently, “I will.”
+
+So Helen crept into the carriage again, looking so full of
+wretchedness that her companion knew that the worst must have
+happened, and took the reins and silently drove towards home, while
+the girl sat perfectly still. They were fully half way home before
+she could find a word in which to tell him of her misery. “I shall
+never be happy in my life again!” she whispered. “Oh, Mr. Howard,
+never in my life!”
+
+When the man gazed at her, he was frightened to see how grief and
+fear had taken possession of her face; and yet there was no word
+that he could say to soothe her, and no hope that he could give her.
+When the drive was ended, she stole silently up to her room, to be
+alone with her misery once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+  “Thou majestic in thy sadness.”
+
+Upon the present occasion there was no violent demonstration of
+emotion to alarm the Roberts household, for Helen's grief was not of
+the kind to vent itself in a passionate outburst and pass away. To
+be sure, she wept a little, but the thoughts which haunted her were
+not of a kind to be forgotten, and afterwards she was as wretched as
+ever. What she had done seemed to her so dreadful that even tears
+were not right, and she felt that she ought only to sit still and
+think of it, and be frightened; it seemed to her just then as if she
+would have to do the same thing for the rest of her days. She spent
+several hours in her room without once moving, and without being
+disturbed, for her aunt was sufficiently annoyed at her morning's
+reception not to visit her again. The lunch hour passed, therefore,
+unthought of by Helen, and it was an hour or two later before she
+heard her aunt's step in the hall, and her knock upon the door.
+
+Mrs. Roberts entered and stood in the center of the room, gazing at
+Helen, and at the look of helpless despair which she turned towards
+her; the woman's own lips were set very tightly.
+
+“Well?” she said abruptly, “have you had your wish, and are you
+happy?”
+
+Helen did not answer, nor did she half realize the question, so lost
+was she in her own misery. She sat gazing at her aunt, while the
+latter went on: “You have had your way in one thing, at any rate,
+Helen; Mr. Harrison is downstairs to see you.”
+
+The girl gave a slight start, but then she answered quietly: “Thank
+you, Auntie; I shall go down and see him.”
+
+“Helen,” said Mrs. Roberts, “do you still refuse to tell me anything
+of what I ask you?”
+
+Helen was quite too much humbled to wish to oppose anyone just then;
+and she answered mournfully, “What is it that you wish?”
+
+“I wish to know in the first place why you wanted to see Mr.
+Harrison.”
+
+“I wanted to see him to tell him that I could not marry him, Aunt
+Polly.”
+
+And Mrs. Roberts sat down opposite Helen and fixed her gaze upon
+her. “I knew that was it,” she said grimly. “Now, Helen, what in the
+world has come over you to make you behave in this fashion?”
+
+“Oh, it is so much to tell you,” began the girl; “I don't know--”
+
+“What did you find at Hilltown?” went on her aunt persistently. “Did
+you see Arthur?”
+
+“No, Aunt Polly, that is what is the matter; he has gone.”
+
+“Gone! Gone where?”
+
+“Away, Aunt Polly! Nobody saw him go, and he left a note saying that
+he would never return. And I am so frightened--”
+
+Mrs. Roberts was gazing at her niece with a puzzled look upon her
+face. She interrupted her by echoing the word “frightened”
+ inquiringly.
+
+“Yes, Auntie!” cried the girl; “for I may never be able to find him
+again, to undo what I have done!”
+
+And Mrs. Roberts responded with a wondering laugh, and observed,
+“For my part, I should think you'd be very glad to be rid of him
+so.”
+
+She saw Helen give a start, but she could not read the girl's mind,
+and did not know how much she had done to estrange her by those
+words. It was as if Helen's whole soul had shrunk back in horror,
+and she sat staring at her aunt with open eyes.
+
+“I suppose you think,” the other went on grimly, “that I am going to
+share all this wonderful sentimentality with you about that boy; but
+I assure you that you don't know me! He may get you to weep over him
+because he chooses to behave like a fool, but not me.”
+
+Helen was still for a moment, and then she said, in an awe-stricken
+voice: “Aunt Polly, I have wrecked Arthur's life!” Mrs. Roberts
+responded with a loud guffaw, which was to the other so offensive
+that it was like a blow in the face.
+
+“Wrecked his life!” the woman cried scornfully. “Helen, you talk
+like a baby! Can't you know in the first place that Arthur is doing
+all this high-tragedy acting for nothing in the world but to
+frighten you? Wrecked his life! And there you were, I suppose, all
+ready to get down on your knees to him, and beg his pardon for
+daring to be engaged, and to promise to come to his attic and live
+off bread and water, if he would only be good and not run away!”
+
+Mrs. Roberts' voice was bitter and mocking, and her words seemed to
+Helen almost blasphemy; it had never occurred to her that such grief
+as hers would not be sacred to anyone. Yet there was no thought of
+anger in her mind just then, for she had been chastened in a fiery
+furnace, and was too full of penitence and humility for even that
+much egotism. She only bowed her head, and said, in a trembling
+voice: “Oh, Aunt Polly, I would stay in an attic and live off bread
+and water for the rest of my days, if I could only clear my
+conscience of the dreadful thing I have done.”
+
+“A beautiful sentiment indeed!” said Mrs. Roberts, with a sniff of
+disgust; and she stood surveying her niece in silence for a minute
+or two. Then smothering her feelings a little, she asked her in a
+quieter voice, “And so, Helen, you are really going to fling aside
+the life opportunity that is yours for such nonsense as this? There
+is no other reason?”
+
+“There is another reason, Aunt Polly,” said Helen; “it is so
+dreadful of you to ask me in that way. How CAN you have expected me
+to marry a man just because he was rich?”
+
+“Oh,” said the other, “so that is it! And pray what put the idea
+into your head so suddenly?” She paused a moment, and then, as the
+girl did not raise her head, she went on, sarcastically, “I fancy I
+know pretty well where you got all of these wonderful new ideas; you
+have not been talking with Mr. Howard for nothing, I see.”
+
+“No, not for nothing,” said Helen gently.
+
+“A nice state of affairs!” continued the other angrily; “I knew
+pretty well that his head was full of nonsense, but when I asked him
+here I thought at least that he would know enough about good manners
+to mind his own affairs. So he has been talking to you, has he? And
+now you cannot possibly marry a rich man!”
+
+Mrs. Roberts stopped, quite too angry to find any more words; but as
+she sat for a minute or two, gazing at Helen, it must have occurred
+to her that she would not accomplish anything in that way. She made
+an effort to swallow her emotions.
+
+“Helen, dear,” she said, sitting down near her niece, “why will you
+worry me in this dreadful way, and make me speak so crossly to you?
+I cannot tell you, Helen, what a torment it is to me to see you
+throwing yourself away in this fashion; I implore you to stop and
+think before you take this step, for as sure as you are alive you
+will regret it all your days. Just think of it how you will feel,
+and how I will feel, when you look back at the happiness you might
+have had, and know that it is too late! And, Helen, it is due to
+nothing in the world but to your inexperience that you have let
+yourself be carried away by these sublimities. You MUST know, child,
+and you can see if you choose, that they have nothing to do with
+life; they will not butter your bread, Helen, or pay your coachman,
+and when you get over all this excitement, you will find that what I
+tell you is true. Look about you in the world, and where can you
+find anybody who lives according to such ideas?”
+
+“What ideas do you mean, Aunt Polly?” asked Helen, with a puzzled
+look.
+
+“Oh, don't you suppose,” answered the other, “that I know perfectly
+well what kind of stuff it is that Mr. Howard has talked to you? I
+used to hear all that kind of thing when I was young, and I believed
+some of it, too,--about how beautiful it was to marry for love, and
+to have a fine scorn of wealth and all the rest of it; but it wasn't
+very long before I found out that such opinions were of no use in
+the world.”
+
+“Then you don't believe in love, Aunt Polly?” asked Helen, fixing
+her eyes on the other.
+
+“What's the use of asking such an absurd question?” was the answer.
+“Of course I believe in love; I wanted you to love Mr. Harrison, and
+you might have, if you had chosen. I learned to love Mr. Roberts;
+naturally, a couple have to love each other, or how would they ever
+live happily together? But what has that to do with this ridiculous
+talk of Mr. Howard's? As if two people had nothing else to do in the
+world but to love each other! It's all very well, Helen, for a man
+who chooses to live like Robinson Crusoe to talk such nonsense, but
+he ought not to put it in the mind of a sentimental girl. He would
+very soon find, if he came out into life, that the world isn't run
+by love, and that people need a good many other things to keep them
+happy in it. You ought to have sense enough to see that you've got
+to live a different sort of a life, and that Mr. Howard knows
+nothing in the world about your needs. I don't go alone and live in
+visions, and make myself imaginary lives, Helen; I look at the world
+as it is. You will have to learn some day that the real way to find
+happiness is to take things as you find them, and get the best out
+of life you can. I never had one-tenth of your advantages, and yet
+there aren't many people in the world better off than I am; and you
+could be just as happy, if you would only take my advice about it.
+What I am talking to you is common sense, Helen, and anybody that
+you choose to ask will tell you the same thing.”
+
+So Mrs. Roberts went on, quite fairly under way in her usual course
+of argument, and rousing all her faculties for this last struggle.
+She was as convinced as ever of the completeness of her own views,
+and of the effect which they must have upon Helen; perhaps it was
+not her fault that she did not know to what another person she was
+talking.
+
+In truth, it would not be easy to tell how great a difference there
+was in the effect of those old arguments upon Helen; while she had
+been sitting in her room alone and suffering so very keenly, the
+girl had been, though she did not know it, very near indeed to the
+sacred truths of life, and now as she listened to her aunt, she was
+simply holding her breath. The climax came suddenly, for as the
+other stopped, Helen leaned forward in her chair, and gazing deep
+into her eyes asked her, “Aunt Polly, can it really be that you do
+not know that what you have been saying to me is dreadfully
+_wicked_?”
+
+There was perhaps nothing that the girl could have done to take her
+complacent relative more by surprise; Mrs. Roberts sat for a moment,
+echoing the last word, and staring as if not quite able to realize
+what Helen meant. As the truth came to her she turned quite pale.
+
+“It seems to me,” she said with a sneer, “that I remember a time
+when it didn't seem quite so wicked to you. If I am not mistaken you
+were quite glad to do all that I told you, and to get as much as
+ever you could.”
+
+Helen was quite used to that taunt in her own heart, and to the pain
+that it brought her, so she only lowered her eyes and said nothing.
+In the meantime Mrs. Roberts was going on in her sarcastic tone:
+
+“Wicked indeed!” she ejaculated, “and I suppose all that I have been
+doing for you was wicked too! I suppose it was wicked of me to watch
+over your education all these years as I have, and to plan your
+future as if you were my own child, so that you might amount to
+something in the world; and it was wicked of me to take all the
+trouble that I have for your happiness, and wicked of Mr. Roberts to
+go to all the trouble about the trousseau that he has! The only
+right and virtuous thing about it all is the conduct of our niece
+who causes us to do it all, and who promises herself to a man and
+lets him go to all the trouble that he has, and then gets her head
+full of sanctimonious notions and begins to preach about wickedness
+to her elders!”
+
+Helen had nothing to reply to those bitter words, for it was only
+too easy just then to make her accuse herself of anything. She sat
+meekly suffering, and thinking that the other was quite justified in
+all her anger. Mrs. Roberts was, of course, quite incapable of
+appreciating her mood, and continued to pour out her sarcasm, and to
+grow more and more bitter. To tell the truth, the worthy matron had
+not been half so unselfish in her hopes about Helen as she liked to
+pretend, and she showed then that like most people of the world who
+are perfectly good-natured on the surface, she could display no
+little ugliness when thwarted in her ambitions and offended in her
+pride.
+
+It was not possible, however, for her to find a word that could seem
+to Helen unjust, so much was the girl already humbled. It was only
+after her aunt had ceased to direct her taunts at her, and turned
+her spite upon Mr. Howard and his superior ideas, that it seemed to
+Helen that it was not helping her to hear any more; then she rose
+and said, very gently, “Aunt Polly, I am sorry that you feel so
+about me, and I wish that I could explain to you better what I am
+doing. I know that what I did at first was all wrong, but that is no
+reason why I should leave it wrong forever. I think now that I ought
+to go and talk to Mr. Harrison, who is waiting for me, and after
+that I want you to please send me home, because father will be there
+to-day, and I want to tell him about how dreadfully I have treated
+Arthur, and beg him to forgive me.”
+
+Then, without waiting for any reply, the girl left the room and went
+slowly down the steps. The sorrow that possessed her lay so deep
+upon her heart that everything else seemed trivial in comparison,
+and she had put aside and forgotten the whole scene with her aunt
+before she had reached the parlor where Mr. Harrison was waiting;
+she did not stop to compose herself or to think what to say, but
+went quickly into the room.
+
+Mr. Harrison, who was standing by the window, turned when he heard
+her; she answered his greeting kindly, and then sat down and
+remained very still for a moment or two, gazing at her hands in her
+lap. At last she raised her eyes to him, and asked: “Mr. Harrison,
+did you receive the letter I wrote you?”
+
+“Yes,” the other answered quickly, “I did. I cannot tell you how
+much pain it caused me. And, Helen--or must I call you Miss Davis?”
+
+“You may call me Helen,” said the girl simply. “I was very sorry to
+cause you pain,” she added, “but there was nothing else that I could
+do.”
+
+“At least,” the other responded, “I hope that you will not refuse to
+explain to me why this step is necessary?”
+
+“No, Mr. Harrison,” said Helen, “it is right that I should tell you
+all, no matter how hard it is to me to do it. It is all because of a
+great wrong that I have done; I know that when I have told you, you
+will think very badly of me indeed, but I have no right to do
+anything except to speak the truth.”
+
+She said that in a very low voice, not allowing her eyes to drop,
+and wearing upon her face the look of sadness which seemed now to
+belong to it always. Mr. Harrison gazed at her anxiously, and said:
+“You seem to have been ill, Helen.”
+
+“I have been very unhappy, Mr. Harrison,” she answered, “and I do
+not believe I can ever be otherwise again. Did you not notice that I
+was unhappy?”
+
+“I never thought of it until yesterday,” the other replied.
+
+“Until the drive,” said Helen; “that was the climax of it. I must
+tell you the reason why I was so frightened then,--that I have a
+friend who was as dear to me as if he were my brother, and he loved
+me very much, very much more than I deserve to be loved by anyone;
+and when I was engaged to you he was very ill, and because I knew I
+was doing so wrong I did not dare to go and see him. That was why I
+was afraid to pass through Hilltown. The reason I was so frightened
+afterwards is that I caught a glimpse of him, and he was in such a
+dreadful way. This morning I found that he had left his home and
+gone away, no one knows where, so that I fear I shall never see him
+again.”
+
+Helen paused, and the other, who had sat down and was leaning
+forward anxiously, asked her, “Then it is this friend that you
+love?”
+
+“No,” the girl replied, “it is not that; I do not love anybody.”
+
+“But then I do not understand,” went on Mr. Harrison, with a puzzled
+look. “You spoke of its having been so wrong; was it not your right
+to wish to marry me?”
+
+And Helen, punishing herself as she had learned so bravely to do,
+did not lower her eyes even then; she flushed somewhat, however, as
+she answered: “Mr. Harrison, do you know WHY I wished to marry you?”
+
+The other started a trifle, and looked very much at a loss indeed.
+“Why?” he echoed. “No, I do not know--that is--I never thought--”
+
+“It hurts me more than I can tell you to have to say this to you,”
+ Helen said, “for you were right and true in your feeling. But did
+you think that I was that, Mr. Harrison? Did you think that I really
+loved you?”
+
+Probably the good man had never been more embarrassed in his life
+than he was just then. The truth to be told, he was perfectly well
+aware why Helen had wished to marry him, and had been all along,
+without seeing anything in that for which to dislike her; he was
+quite without an answer to her present question, and could only
+cough and stammer, and reach for his handkerchief. The girl went on
+quickly, without waiting very long for his reply.
+
+“I owe it to you to tell you the truth,” she said, “and then it will
+no longer cause you pain to give me up. For I did not love you at
+all, Mr. Harrison; but I loved all that you offered me, and I
+allowed myself to be tempted thus, to promise to marry you. Ever
+afterwards I was quite wretched, because I knew that I was doing
+something wicked, and yet I never had the courage to stop. So it
+went on until my punishment came yesterday. I have suffered
+fearfully since that.”
+
+Helen had said all that there was to be said, and she stopped and
+took a deep breath of relief. There was a minute or two of silence,
+after which Mr. Harrison asked: “And you really think that it was so
+wrong to promise to marry me for the happiness that I could offer
+you?”
+
+Helen gazed at him in surprise as she echoed, “Was it so wrong?” And
+at the same moment even while she was speaking, a memory flashed
+across her mind, the memory of what had occurred at Fairview the
+last time she had been there with Mr. Harrison. A deep, burning
+blush mantled her face, and her eyes dropped, and she trembled
+visibly. It was a better response to the other's question than any
+words could have been, and because in spite of his contact with the
+world he was still in his heart a gentleman, he understood and
+changed color himself and looked away, feeling perhaps more rebuked
+and humbled than he had ever felt in his life before.
+
+So they sat thus for several minutes without speaking a word, or
+looking at each other, each doing penance in his own heart. At last,
+in a very low voice, the man said, “Helen, I do not know just how I
+can ever apologize to you.”
+
+The girl answered quietly: “I could not let you apologize to me, Mr.
+Harrison, for I never once thought that you had done anything
+wrong.”
+
+“I have done very wrong indeed,” he answered, his voice trembling,
+“for I do not think that I had any right even to ask you to marry
+me. You make me feel suddenly how very coarse a world I have lived
+in, and how much lower than yours all my ways of thinking are. You
+look surprised that I say that,” he added, as he saw that the girl
+was about to interrupt him, “but you do not know much about the
+world. Do you suppose that there are many women in society who would
+hesitate to marry me for my money?”
+
+“I do not know,” said Helen, slowly; “but, Mr. Harrison, you could
+certainly never be happy with a woman who would do that.”
+
+“I do not think now that I should,” the man replied, earnestly, “but
+I did not feel that way before. I did not have much else to offer,
+Helen, for money is all that a man like me ever tries to get in the
+world.”
+
+“It is so very wrong, Mr. Harrison,” put in the other, quickly.
+“When people live in that way they come to lose sight of all that is
+right and beautiful in life; and it is all so selfish and wicked!”
+ (Those were words which might have made Mr. Howard smile a trifle
+had he been there to hear them; but Helen was too much in earnest to
+think about being original.)
+
+“I know,” said Mr. Harrison, “and I used to believe in such things;
+but one never meets anyone else that does, and it is so easy to live
+differently. When you spoke to me as you did just now, you made me
+seem a very poor kind of a person indeed.”
+
+The man paused, and Helen sat gazing at him with a worried look upon
+her face. “It was not that which I meant to do,” she began, but then
+she stopped; and after a long silence, Mr. Harrison took up the
+conversation again, speaking in a low, earnest voice.
+
+“Helen,” he said, “you have made me see that I am quite unworthy to
+ask for your regard,--that I have really nothing fit to offer you.
+But I might have one thing that you could appreciate,--for I could
+worship, really worship, such a woman as you; and I could do
+everything that I could think of to make myself worthy of you,--even
+if it meant the changing of all my ways of life. Do you not suppose
+that you could quite forget that I was a rich man, Helen, and still
+let me be devoted to you?”
+
+There was a look in Mr. Harrison's eyes as he gazed at her just then
+which made him seem to her a different sort of a man,--as indeed he
+was. She answered very gently. “Mr. Harrison,” she said, “it would
+be a great happiness to me to know that anyone felt so about me. But
+I could never marry you; I do not love you.”
+
+“And you do not think,” asked the other, “that you could ever come
+to love me, no matter how long I might wait?”
+
+“I do not think so,” Helen said in a low voice. “I wish that you
+would not ever think of me so.”
+
+“It is very easy to say that,” the man answered, pleadingly, “but
+how am I to do it? For everything that I have seems cheap compared
+with the thought of you. Why should I go on with the life I have
+been leading, heaping up wealth that I do not know how to use, and
+that makes me no better and no happier? I thought of you as a new
+motive for going on, Helen, and you must know that a man cannot so
+easily change his feelings. For I really loved you, and I do love
+you still, and I think that I always must love you.”
+
+Helen's own suffering had made her alive to other people's feelings,
+and the tone of voice in which he spoke those words moved her very
+much. She leaned over and laid her hand upon his,--something which
+she would not have thought she could ever do.
+
+“Mr. Harrison,” she said, “I cannot tell you how much it hurts me to
+have you speak to me so, for it makes me see more than ever how
+cruelly unfeeling I have been, and how much I have wronged you. It
+was for that I wished to beg you to forgive me, to forgive me just
+out of the goodness of your heart, for I cannot offer any excuse for
+what I did. It makes me quite wretched to have to say that, and to
+know that others are suffering because of my selfishness; if I had
+any thought of the sacredness of the beauty God has given me, I
+would never have let you think of me as you did, and caused you the
+pain that I have. But you must forgive me, Mr. Harrison, and help
+me, for to think of your being unhappy about me also would be really
+more than I could bear. Sometimes when I think of the one great
+sorrow that I have already upon my conscience, I feel that I do not
+know what I am to do; and you must go away and forget about me, for
+my sake if not for your own. I really cannot love anyone; I do not
+think that I am fit to love anyone; I only do not want to make
+anyone else unhappy.”
+
+And Helen stopped again, and pressed her hand upon Mr. Harrison's
+imploringly. He sat gazing at her in silence for a minute, and then
+he said, slowly: “When you put it so, it is very hard for me to say
+anything more. If you are only sure that that is your final
+word--that there is really no chance that you could ever love me,--”
+
+“I am perfectly sure of it,” the girl answered; “and because I know
+how cruel it sounds, it is harder for me to say than for you to
+hear. But it is really the truth, Mr. Harrison. I do not think that
+you ought to see me again until you are sure that it will not make
+you unhappy.”
+
+The man sat for a moment after that, with his head bowed, and then
+he bit his lip very hard and rose from his chair. “You can never
+know,” he said, “how lonely it makes a man feel to hear words like
+those.” But he took Helen's hand in his and held it for an instant,
+and then added: “I shall do as you ask me. Good-by.” And he let her
+hand fall and went to the door. There he stopped to gaze once again
+for a moment, and then turned and disappeared, closing the door
+behind him.
+
+Helen was left seated in the chair, where she remained for several
+minutes, leaning forward with her head in her hands, and gazing
+steadily in front of her, thinking very grave thoughts. She rose at
+last, however, and brushed back the hair from her forehead, and went
+slowly towards the door. It would have seemed lack of feeling to
+her, had she thought of it, but even before she had reached the
+stairs the scene through which she had just passed was gone from her
+mind entirely, and she was saying to herself, “If I could only know
+where Arthur is this afternoon!”
+
+Her mind was still full of that thought when she entered the room,
+where she found her aunt seated just as she had left her, and in no
+more pleasant humor than before.
+
+“You have told him, I suppose?” she inquired.
+
+“Yes,” Helen said, “I have told him, Aunt Polly.”
+
+“And now you are happy, I suppose!”
+
+“No, indeed, I am very far from that,” said Helen, and she went to
+the window; she stood there, gazing out, but with her thoughts
+equally far away from the scene outside as from Mrs. Roberts'
+warnings and sarcasms. The latter had gone on for several minutes
+before her niece turned suddenly. “Excuse me for interrupting you,
+Aunt Polly,” she said; “but I want to know whether Mr. Howard has
+gone yet.”
+
+“His train goes in an hour or so,” said Mrs. Roberts, not very
+graciously.
+
+“I think I will see if he is downstairs,” Helen responded; “I wish
+to speak to him before he goes.” And so she descended and found Mr.
+Howard seated alone upon the piazza.
+
+Taking a seat beside him, she said, “I did not thank you when I left
+you in the carriage, Mr. Howard, for having been so kind to me; but
+I was so wrapped up in my worry--”
+
+“I understood perfectly,” put in the other. “I saw that you felt too
+keenly about your discovery to have anything to say to me.”
+
+“I feel no less keenly about it now,” said Helen; “but I could not
+let you go away until I had spoken to you.” She gazed very earnestly
+at him as she continued: “I have to tell you how much you have done
+for me, and how I thank you for it from the bottom of my heart. I
+simply cannot say how much all that you have shown me has meant to
+me; I should have cared for nothing but to have you tell me what it
+would be right for me to do with my life,--if only it had not been
+for this dreadful misfortune of Arthur's, which makes it seem as if
+it would be wicked for me to think about anything.”
+
+Mr. Howard sat gazing in front of him for a moment, and then he said
+gently, “What if the change that you speak of were to be
+accomplished, Miss Davis, without your ever thinking about it? For
+what is it that makes the difference between being thoughtless and
+selfish, and being noble and good, if it be not simply to walk
+reverently in God's great temple of life, and to think with sorrow
+of one's own self? Believe me, my dear friend, the best men that
+have lived on earth have seen no more cause to be pleased with
+themselves than you.”
+
+“That may be true, Mr. Howard,” said Helen, sadly, “but it can do me
+no good to know it. It does not make what happens to Arthur a bit
+less dreadful to think of.”
+
+“It is the most painful fact about all our wrong,” the other
+answered, “that no amount of repentance can ever alter the
+consequences. But, Miss Davis, that is a guilt which all creation
+carries on its shoulders; it is what is symbolized in the Fall of
+Man--that he has to realize that he might have had infinite beauty
+and joy for his portion, if only the soul within him had never
+weakened and failed. Let me tell you that he is a lucky man who can
+look back at all his life and see no more shameful guilt than yours,
+and no consequence worse than yours can be.” As Mr. Howard spoke he
+saw a startled look cross the girl's face, and he added, “Do not
+suppose that I am saying that to comfort you, for it is really the
+truth. It oftens happens too, that the natures that are strongest
+and most ardent in their search for righteousness have the worst
+sins to remember.”
+
+Helen did not answer for several moments, for the thought was
+strange to her; then suddenly she gazed at the other very earnestly
+and said: “Mr. Howard, you are a man who lives for what is beautiful
+and high,--suppose that YOU had to carry all through your life the
+burden of such guilt as mine?”
+
+The man's voice was trembling slightly as he answered her: “It is
+not hard for me to suppose that, Miss Davis; I HAVE such a burden to
+carry.” As he raised his eyes he saw a still more wondering look
+upon her countenance.
+
+“But the consequences!” she exclaimed. “Surely, Mr. Howard, you
+could not bear to live if you knew--”
+
+“I have never known the consequences,” said the man, as she stopped
+abruptly; “just as you may never know them; but this I know, that
+yours could not be so dreadful as mine must be. I know also that I
+am far more to blame for them than you.”
+
+Helen could not have told what caused the emotion which made her
+shudder so just then as she gazed into Mr. Howard's dark eyes. Her
+voice was almost a whisper as she said, “And yet you are GOOD!”
+
+“I am good,” said the man gently, “with all the goodness that any
+man can claim, the goodness of trying to be better. You may be that
+also.”
+
+Helen sat for a long time in silence after that, wondering at what
+was passing in her own mind; it was as if she had caught a sudden
+glimpse into a great vista of life. She had always before thought of
+this man's suffering as having been physical; and the deep movement
+of sympathy and awe which stirred her now was one step farther from
+her own self-absorption, and one step nearer to the suffering that
+is the heart of things.
+
+But Helen had to keep that thought and dwell upon it in solitude;
+there was no chance for her to talk with Mr. Howard any more, for
+she heard her aunt's step in the hall behind her. She had only time
+to say, “I am going home myself this afternoon; will you come there
+to see me, Mr. Howard? I cannot tell you how much pleasure it would
+give me.”
+
+“There is nothing I should like to do more,” the man answered; “I
+hope to keep your friendship. When would you like me to come?”
+
+“Any time that you can,” replied Helen. “Come soon, for I know how
+unhappy I shall be.”
+
+That was practically the last word she said to Mr. Howard, for her
+aunt joined them, and after that the conversation was formal. It was
+not very long before the carriage came for him, and Helen pressed
+his hand gratefully at parting, and stood leaning against a pillar
+of the porch, shading her eyes from the sun while she watched the
+carriage depart. Then she sat down to wait for it to return from the
+depot for her, which it did before long; and so she bid farewell to
+her aunt.
+
+It was a great relief to Helen; and while we know not what emotions
+it may cause to the reader, it is perhaps well to say that he may
+likewise pay his last respects to the worthy matron, who will not
+take part in the humble events of which the rest of our story must
+be composed.
+
+For Helen was going home, home to the poor little parsonage of
+Oakdale! She was going with a feeling of relief in her heart second
+only to her sorow; the more she had come to feel how shallow and
+false was the splendor that had allured her, the more she had found
+herself drawn to her old home, with its memories that were so dear
+and so beautiful. She felt that there she might at least think of
+Arthur all that she chose, and meet with nothing to affront her
+grief; and also she found herself thinking of her father's love with
+a new kind of hunger.
+
+When she arrived, she found Mr. Davis waiting for her with a very
+anxious look upon his countenance; he had stopped at Hilltown on his
+way, and learned about Arthur's disappearance, and then heard from
+Elizabeth what she knew about Helen's engagement. The girl flung
+herself into his arms, and afterwards, quite overcome by the
+emotions that surged up within her, sank down upon her knees before
+him and sobbed out the whole story, her heart bursting with sorrow
+and contrition; as he lifted her up and kissed her and whispered his
+beautiful words of pardon and comfort, Helen found it a real
+homecoming indeed.
+
+Mr. Davis was also able to calm her worry a little by telling her
+that he did not think it possible that Arthur would keep his
+whereabouts secret from him very long. “When I find him, dear
+child,” he said, “it will all be well again, for we will believe in
+love, you and I, and not care what the great world says about it. I
+think I could be well content that you should marry our dear
+Arthur.”
+
+“But, father, I do not love him,” put in Helen faintly.
+
+“That may come in time,” said the other, kissing her tenderly, and
+smiling. “There is no need to talk of it, for you are too young to
+marry, anyway. And in the meantime we must find him.”
+
+There was a long silence after that. Helen sat down on the sofa
+beside her father and put her arms about him and leaned her head
+upon his bosom, drinking in deep drafts of his pardon and love. She
+told him about Mr. Howard, and of the words of counsel which he had
+given her, and how he was coming to see her again. Afterwards the
+conversation came back to Arthur and his love for Helen, and then
+Mr. Davis went on to add something that caused Helen to open her
+eyes very wide and gaze at him in wonder.
+
+“There is still another reason for wishing to find him soon,” he
+said, “for something else has happened to-day that he ought to know
+about.”
+
+“What is it?” asked Helen.
+
+“I don't know that I ought to tell you about it just now,” said the
+other, “for it is a very sad story. But someone was here to see
+Arthur this morning--someone whom I never expected to see again in
+all my life.”
+
+“To see Arthur?” echoed the girl in perplexity. “Who could want to
+see Arthur?” As her father went on she gave a great start.
+
+“It was his mother,” said Mr. Davis.
+
+And Helen stared at him, gasping for breath as she echoed the words,
+“His mother!”
+
+“You may well be astonished,” said the clergyman. “But the woman
+proved beyond doubt that she was really the person who left Arthur
+with me.”
+
+“You did not recognize her?”
+
+“No, Helen; for it has been twenty-one or two years since I saw her,
+and she has changed very much since then. But she told me that in
+all that time she has never once lost sight of her boy, and has been
+watching all that he did.”
+
+“Where has she been?”
+
+“She did not tell me,” the other answered, “but I fancy in New York.
+The poor woman has lived a very dreadful life, a life of such
+wretched wickedness that we cannot even talk about it; I think I
+never heard of more cruel suffering. I was glad that you were not
+here to see her, or know about it until after she was gone; she said
+that she had come to see Arthur once, because she was going away to
+die.”
+
+“To die!” exclaimed the girl, in horror.
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Davis, “to die; she looked as if she could not live
+many days longer. I begged her to let me see that she was provided
+for, but she said that she was going to find her way back to her old
+home, somewhere far off in the country, and she would hear of
+nothing else. She would not tell the name of the place, nor her own
+name, but she left a letter for Arthur, and begged me to find him
+and give it to him, so that he might come and speak to her once if
+he cared to do so. She begged me to forgive her for the trouble she
+had caused me, and to pray that God would forgive her too; and then
+she bade me farewell and dragged herself away.”
+
+Mr. Davis stopped, and Helen sat for a long time staring ahead of
+her, with a very frightened look in her eyes, and thinking, “Oh, we
+MUST find Arthur!” Then she turned to her father, her lips trembling
+and her countenance very pale. “Tell me,” she said, in a low,
+awe-stricken voice, “a long time ago someone must have wronged that
+woman.”
+
+“Yes, dear,” said Mr. Davis, “when she was not even as old as you
+are. And the man who wronged her was worth millions of dollars,
+Helen, and could have saved her from all her suffering with a few of
+them if he cared to. No one but God knows his name, for the woman
+would not tell it.”
+
+Helen sat for a moment or two staring at him wildly; and then
+suddenly she buried her head in his bosom and burst into tears,
+sobbing so cruelly that her father was sorry he had told her what he
+had. He knew why that story moved her so, and it wrung his heart to
+think of it,--that this child of his had put upon her own shoulders
+some of that burden of the guilt of things, and must suffer beneath
+it, perhaps for the rest of her days.
+
+When Helen gazed up at him again there was the old frightened look
+upon her face, and all his attempts to comfort her were useless.
+“No, no!” she whispered. “No, father! I cannot even think of peace
+again, until we have found Arthur!”
+
+  Freundliches Voglein!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+  “A fugitive and gracious light he seeks,
+    Shy to illumine; and I seek it too.
+  This does not come with houses or with gold,
+    With place, with honor, and a flattering crew;
+  'Tis not in the world's market bought and sold.”
+
+Three days passed by after Helen had returned to her father, during
+which the girl stayed by herself most of the time. When the breaking
+off of her engagement was known, many of her old friends came to see
+her, but the hints that they dropped did not move her to any
+confidences; she felt that it would not be possible for her to find
+among them any understanding of her present moods. Her old life, or
+rather the life to which she had been looking forward, seemed to her
+quite empty and shallow, and there was nothing useful that she knew
+of to do except to offer to help her father in such ways as she
+could. She drew back into her own heart, giving most of her time to
+thinking about Mr. Howard and Arthur, and no one but her father knew
+why it was that she was so subdued and silent.
+
+It was only on the third morning, when there came a letter from Mr.
+Howard saying that he was coming out that afternoon to see her, that
+Helen seemed to be interested and stirred again. She went to the
+window more than once to look for him; and when at last her friend
+had arrived, and the two were seated in the parlor, she said to him
+without waiting for any circumstance, “I have been wishing very much
+to see you, Mr. Howard, because there is something I am anxious to
+talk to you about, if you will let me.”
+
+“I am sorry to say that it is about myself,” she went on, when the
+other had expressed his willingness to hear her, “for I want to ask
+you to help me, and to give me some advice. I ought to have asked
+you the questions I am going to before this, but the last time I saw
+you I could think about nothing but Arthur. They only came to me
+after you had gone.”
+
+“What are they?” asked the man.
+
+“You must knew, Mr. Howard,” said Helen, “that it is you who have
+shown me the wrongness of all that I was doing in my life, and
+stirred me with a desire to do better. I find now that such thoughts
+have always been so far from me that the wish to be right is all
+that I have, and I do not know at all what to do. It seemed to me
+that I would rather talk to you about it than to anyone, even my own
+father. I do not know whether that is just right, but you do not
+mind my asking you, do you?”
+
+“It is my wish to help you in every way that I can,” was the gentle
+response.
+
+“I will tell you what I have been thinking,” said Helen. “I have
+been so unhappy in the last three days that I have done nothing at
+all; but it seemed to me somehow that it must be wrong of me to let
+go of myself in that way--as if I had no right to pamper myself and
+indulge my own feelings. It was not that I wished to forget what
+wrong things I have done, or keep from suffering because of them;
+yet it seemed to me that the fact that I was wretched and frightened
+was no excuse for my doing no good for the rest of my life. When I
+have thought about my duty before, it has always been my
+school-girl's task of studying and practicing music, but that is not
+at all what I want now, for I cannot bear to think of such things
+while the memory of Arthur is in my mind. I need something that is
+not for myself, Mr. Howard, and I find myself thinking that it
+should be something that I do not like to do.”
+
+Helen paused for a moment, gazing at the other anxiously; and then
+she went on: “You must know that what is really behind what I am
+saying is what you said that evening in the arbor, about the kind of
+woman I ought to be because God has made me beautiful. My heart is
+full of a great hunger to be set right, and to get a clearer sight
+of the things that are truly good in life. I want you to talk to me
+about your own ideals, and what you do to keep your life deep and
+true; and then to tell me what you would do in my place. I promise
+you that no matter how hard it may be I shall feel that just what
+you tell me to do is my duty, and at least I shall never be happy
+again until I have done it. Do you understand how I feel, Mr.
+Howard?”
+
+“Yes,” the man answered, in a quiet voice, “I understand you
+perfectly.” And then as he paused, watching the girl from beneath
+his dark brows, Helen asked, “You do not mind talking to me about
+yourself?”
+
+“When a man lives all alone and as self-centered as I,” the other
+replied, smiling, “it is fatally easy for him to do that; he may
+blend himself with his ideals in such a curious way that he never
+talks about anything else. But if you will excuse that, I will tell
+you what I can.”
+
+“Tell me why it is that you live so much alone,” said the girl. “Is
+it that you do not care for friends?”
+
+“It is very difficult for a man who feels about life as I do to find
+many friends,” he responded. “If one strives to dwell in deep
+things, and is very keen and earnest about it, he is apt to find
+very little to help him outside of himself; perhaps it is because I
+have met very few persons in my life, but it has not happened to me
+to find anyone who thinks about it as I do, or who cares to live it
+with my strenuousness. I have met musicians, some who labored very
+hard at their art, but none who felt it a duty to labor with their
+own souls, to make them beautiful and strong; and I have met
+literary men and scholars, but they were all interested in books,
+and were willing to be learned, and to classify and plod; I have
+never found one who was swift and eager, and full of high impatience
+for what is real and the best. There should come times to a man, I
+think, when he feels that books are an impertinence, when he knows
+that he has only the long-delayed battle with his own heart to
+fight, and the prize of its joy to win. When such moods come upon
+him he sees that he has to live his life upon his knees, and it is
+rarely indeed that he knows of anyone who can follow him and share
+in his labor. So it is that I have had to live all my life by
+myself, Miss Davis.”
+
+“You have always done that?” Helen asked, as he stopped.
+
+“Yes,” he answered, “or for very many years. I have a little house
+on the wildest of lakes up in the mountains, wyhere I play the
+hermit in the summer, and where I should have been now if it had not
+been that I yielded to your aunt's invitation. When I spoke of
+having no friends I forgot the things of Nature, which really do
+sympathize with an artist's life; I find that they never fail to
+become full of meaning whenever my own spirit shakes off its bonds.
+It has always been a belief of mine that there is nothing that
+Nature makes that is quite so dull and unfeeling as man,--with the
+exception of children and lovers, I had much rather play my violin
+for the flowers and the trees.”
+
+“You like to play it out of doors?” Helen asked, with a sudden
+smile.
+
+“Yes,” laughed the other, “that is one of my privileges as a hermit.
+It seems quite natural to the wild things, for they have all a music
+of their own, a wonderful, silent music that the best musicians
+cannot catch; do you not believe that, Miss Davis?”
+
+“Yes,” Helen said, and sat gazing at her companion silently for a
+minute. “I should think a life of such effort would be very hard,”
+ she said finally. “Do you not ever fail?”
+
+“I do not do much else,” he replied with a sad smile, “and get up
+and stumble on. The mastership of one's heart is the ideal, you
+know; and after all one's own life cannot be anything but struggle
+and failure, for the power he is trying to conquer is infinite. When
+I find my life very hard I do not complain, but know that the reason
+for it is that I have chosen to have it real, and that the essence
+of the soul is its effort. I think that is a very important thing to
+feel about life, Miss Davis.”
+
+“That is why I do not wish to be idle,” said Helen.
+
+“It is just because people do not know this fact about the soul,”
+ the other continued, “and are not willing to dare and suffer, and
+overcome dullness, and keep their spiritual faculties free, that
+they sink down as they grow older, and become what they call
+practical, and talk very wisely about experience. It is only when
+God sends into the world a man of genius that no mountains of earth
+can crush, and who keeps his faith and sweetness all through his
+life that we learn the baseness of the thought that experience
+necessarily brings cynicism and selfishness. There is to me in all
+this world nothing more hateful than this disillusioned worldliness,
+and nothing makes me angrier than to see it taking the name of
+wisdom. If I were a man with an art, there is nothing, I think, that
+I should feel more called to make war upon; it is a very blow in the
+face of God. Nothing makes me sadder than to see the life that such
+people live,--to see for instance how pathetic are the things they
+call their entertainments; and when one knows himself that life is a
+magic potion, to be drank with rapture and awe,--that every instance
+of it ought to be a hymn of rejoicing, and the whole of it rich and
+full of power, like some majestic symphony. I often find myself
+wishing that there were some way of saving the time that people
+spend in their pleasures;
+
+    “'Life piled on life
+  Were all too little, and of one to me
+  Little remains.'
+
+As I kneel before God's altar of the heart I know that if I had
+infinite time and infinite energy there would be beauty and joy
+still to seek, and so as I look about me in the world and see all
+the sin and misery that is in it, it is my comfort to know that the
+reason for it is that men are still living the lives of the animals,
+and have not even dreamed of the life that belongs to them as men.
+That is something about which I feel very strongly myself,--that is
+part of my duty as a man who seeks worship and rightness to mark
+that difference in my own life quite plainly.”
+
+Mr. Howard paused for a moment, and Helen said very earnestly, “I
+wish that you would tell me about that.”
+
+“I consider it my duty,” the other replied, “to keep all the
+external circumstances of my life as simple and as humble as I
+should have to if I were quite poor. If I were not physically
+unable, I should feel that I ought to do for my own self all that I
+needed to have done, for I think that if it is necessary that others
+should be degraded to menial service in order that my soul might be
+beautiful and true, then life is bad at the heart of it, and I want
+none of its truth and beauty. I do not have to look into my heart
+very long, Miss Davis, to discover that what I am seeking in life is
+something that no millions of money can buy me; and when I am face
+to face with the sternness of what I call that spiritual fact, I see
+that fine houses and all the rest are a foolish kind of toy, and
+wonder that any man should think that he can please me by giving the
+labor of his soul to making them. It is much the same thing as I
+feel, for instance, when I go to hear a master of music, and find
+that he has spent his hours in torturing himself and his fingers in
+order to give me an acrobatic exhibition, when all the time what I
+wish him to do, and what his genius gave him power to do, was to
+find the magic word that should set free the slumbering demon of my
+soul. So I think that a man who wishes to grow by sympathy and
+worship should do without wealth, if only because it is so trivial;
+but of course I have left unmentioned what is the great reason for a
+self-denying life, the reason that lies at the heart of the matter,
+and that includes all the others in it,--that he who lives by prayer
+and joy makes all men richer, but he who takes more than his bare
+necessity of the wealth of the body must know that he robs his
+brother when he does it. The things of the soul are everywhere, but
+wealth stands for the toil and suffering of human beings, and
+thousands must starve and die so that one rich man may live at ease.
+That is no fine rhetoric that I am indulging in, but a very deep and
+earnest conviction of my soul; first of all facts of morality stands
+the law that the life of man is labor, and that he who chooses to
+live otherwise is a dastard. He may chase the phantom of happiness
+all his days and not find it, and yet never guess the reason,--that
+joy is a melody of the heart, and that he is playing upon an
+instrument that is out of tune. Few people choose to think of that
+at all, but I cannot afford ever to forget it, for my task is to
+live the artist's life, to dwell close to the heart of things; it is
+something that I simply cannot understand how any man who pretends
+to do that can know of the suffering and starving that is in the
+world, and can feel that he who has God's temple of the soul for his
+dwelling, has right to more of the pleasures of earth than the
+plainest food and shelter and what tools of his art he requires. If
+it is otherwise it can only be because he is no artist at all, no
+lover of life, but only a tradesman under another name, using God's
+high gift to get for himself what he can, and thinking of his
+sympathy and feeling as things that he puts on when he goes to work,
+and when he is sure that they will cost him no trouble.”
+
+Mr. Howard had been speaking very slowly, and in a deep and earnest
+voice; he paused for a moment, and then added with a slight smile,
+“I have been answering your question without thinking about it, Miss
+Davis, for I have told you all that there is to tell about my life.”
+
+Helen did not answer, but sat for a long time gazing at him and
+thinking very deeply; then she said to him, her voice shaking
+slightly: “You have answered only half of my question, Mr. Howard; I
+want you to tell me what a woman can do to bring those high things
+into her life--to keep her soul humble and strong. I do not think
+that I have your courage and self-reliance.”
+
+The man's voice dropped lower as he answered her, “Suppose that you
+were to find this friend of yours that knows you so well, and loves
+you so truly; do you not think that there might be a chance for you
+to win this prize of life that I speak of?” Helen did not reply, but
+sat with her eyes still fixed upon the other's countenance; as he
+went on, his deep, musical voice held them there by a spell.
+
+“Miss Davis,” he said, “a man does not live very long in the kingdom
+of the soul before there comes to be one thing that he loves more
+than anything else that life can offer; that thing is love. For love
+is the great gateway into the spiritual life, the stage of life's
+journey when human beings are unselfish and true to their hearts, if
+ever the power of unselfishness and truth lies in them. As for man,
+he has many battles to fight and much of himself to kill before the
+great prizes of the soul can be his--but the true woman has but one
+glory and one duty in life, and sacredness and beauty are hers by
+the free gift of God. If she be a true woman, when her one great
+passion takes its hold upon her it carries all her being with it,
+and she gives herself and all that she has. Because I believe in
+unselfishness and know that love is the essence of things, I find in
+all the world nothing more beautiful than that, and think that she
+has no other task in life, except to see that the self which she
+gives is her best and Inghest, and to hold to the thought of the
+sacredness of what she is doing. For love is the soul's great act of
+worship, and the heart's great awakening to life. If the man be
+selfish and a seeker of pleasure, what I say of love and woman is
+not for him; but if he be one who seeks to worship, to rouse the
+soul within him to its vision of the beauty and preciousness of
+life, then he must know that this is the great chance that Nature
+gives him, that no effort of his own will ever carry him so far
+towards what he seeks. The woman who gives herself to him he takes
+for his own with awe and trembling, knowing that the glory which he
+reads in her eyes is the very presence of the spirit of life; and
+because she stands for this precious thing to him he seeks her love
+more than anything else upon earth, feeling that if he has it he has
+everything, and if he has it not, he has nothing. He cherishes the
+woman as before he cherished what was best in his own soul; he
+chooses all fair and noble actions that may bring him still more of
+her love; all else that life has for him he lays as an offering at
+the shrine of her heart, all his joy and all his care, and asks but
+love in return; and because the giving of love is the woman's joy
+and the perfectness of her sacrifice, her glory, they come to forget
+themselves in each other's being, and to live their lives in each
+other's hearts. The joy that each cares for is no longer his own
+joy, but the other's; and so they come to stand for the sacredness
+of God to each other, and for perpetual inspiration. By and by,
+perhaps, from long dwelling out of themselves and feeding their
+hearts upon things spiritual, they learn the deep and mystic
+religion of love, that is the last lesson life has to teach; it is
+given to no man to know what is the source of this mysterious being
+of ours, but men who come near to it find it so glorious that they
+die for it in joy; and the least glimpse of it gives a man quite a
+new feeling about a human heart. So at last it happens that the
+lovers read a fearful wonder in each other's eyes, and give each
+other royal greeting, no longer for what they are, but for that
+which they would like to be. They come to worship together as they
+could never have worshiped apart; and always that which they worship
+and that in which they dwell, is what all existence is seeking with
+so much pain, the sacred presence of wonder that some call Truth,
+and some Beauty,--but all Love. When you ask me how unselfishness is
+to be made yours in life, that is the answer which I give you.”
+
+Mr. Howard's voice had dropped very low; as he stopped Helen was
+trembling within herself. She was drinking still more from the
+bottomless cup of her humiliation and remorse, for she was still
+haunted by the specter of what she had done. The man went on after
+an interval of silence.
+
+“I think there is no one,” he said, “whom these things touch more
+than the man who would live the life of art that I have talked of
+before; for the artist seeks experience above all things, seeks it
+not only for himself but for his race. And it must come from his own
+heart; no one can drive him to his task. All artists tell that the
+great source of their power is love; and the wisest of them makes of
+his love an art-work, as he makes an art-work of his life. He counts
+his power of loving most sacred of all his powers, and guards it
+from harm as he guards his life itself; he gives all his soul to the
+dreaming of that dream, and lays all his prayer before it; and when
+he meets with the maiden who will honor such effort, he forgets
+everything else in his life, and gives her all his heart, and
+studies to 'worship her by years of noble deeds.' For a woman who
+loves love, the heart of such a man is a lifetime's treasure; for
+his passion is of the soul, and does not die; and all that he has
+done has been really but a training of himself for that great
+consecration. If he be a true artist, all his days have been spent
+in learning to wrestle with himself, to rouse himself and master his
+own heart; until at last his very being has become a prayer, and his
+soul like a great storm of wind that sweeps everything away in its
+arms. Perhaps that hunger has possessed him so that he never even
+wakens in the dead of night without finding it with him in all its
+strength; it rouses him in the morning with a song, and when
+midnight comes and he is weary, it is a benediction and a hand upon
+his brow. All the time, because he has a man's heart and knows of
+his life's great glory, his longing turns to a dream of love, to a
+vision of the flying perfect for which all his life is a search.
+There is a maiden who dwells in all the music that he hears, and who
+calls to him in the sunrise, and flings wide the flowers upon the
+meadows; she treads before him on the moonlit waters and strews them
+with showers of fire. If his soul be only strong enough, perhaps he
+waits long years for that perfect woman, that woman who loves not
+herself, but loves love; and all the time the yearning of his heart
+is growing, so that those who gaze at him wonder why his eyes are
+dark and sunken. He knows that his heart is a treasure-house which
+he himself cannot explore, and that in all the world he seeks
+nothing but some woman before whom he might fling wide its doors.”
+
+Helen had been leaning on the table, holding her hands in front of
+her; towards the end they were trembling so much that she took them
+away and clasped them in her lap. When he ceased her eyes were
+lowered; she could not see how his were fixed upon her, but she knew
+that her bosom was heaving painfully, and that there were hot tears
+upon her cheeks. He added slowly: “I have told you all that I think
+about life, my dear friend, and all that I think about love; so I
+think I have told you all that I know.” And Helen lifted her eyes to
+his and gazed at him through her tears.
+
+“You tell _me_ of such things?” she asked. “You give such advice to
+_me_!”
+
+“Yes,” said the other, gently, “why not to you?”
+
+“Mr. Howard,” Helen answered, “do you not know what I have done, and
+how I must feel while I listen to you? It is good that I should hear
+such things, because I ought to suffer; but when I asked you for
+your advice I wished for something hard and stern to do, before I
+dared ever think of love, or feel myself right again.”
+
+Mr. Howard sat watching her for a moment in silence, and then he
+answered gently, “I do not think, my dear friend, that it is our
+duty as struggling mortals to feel ourselves right at all; I am not
+even sure that we ought to care about our rightness in the least.
+For God has put high and beautiful things in the world, things that
+call for all our attention; and I am sure that we are never so close
+to rightness as when we give all our devotion to them and cease
+quite utterly to think about ourselves. And besides that, the love
+that I speak of is not easy to give, Miss Davis. It is easy to give
+up one's self in the first glow of feeling; but to forget one's self
+entirely, and one's comfort and happiness in all the little things
+of life; to consecrate one's self and all that one has to a lifetime
+of patience and self-abnegation; and to seek no reward and ask for
+no happiness but love,--do you not think that such things would cost
+one pain and bring a good conscience at last?”
+
+Helen's voice was very low as she answered, “Perhaps, at last.” Then
+she sat very still, and finally raised her deep, earnest eyes and
+leaned forward and gazed straight into her companion's. “Mr.
+Howard,” she said, “you must know that YOU are my conscience; and it
+is the memory of your words that causes me all my suffering. And now
+tell me one thing; suppose I were to say to you that I could beg
+upon my knees for a chance to earn such a life as that; and suppose
+I should ever come really to love someone, and should give up
+everything to win such a treasure, do you think that I could clear
+my soul from what I have done, and win rightness for mine? Do you
+think that you--that YOU could ever forget that I was the woman who
+had wished to sell her love for money?”
+
+Mr. Howard answered softly, “Yes, I think so.”
+
+“But are you sure of it?” Helen asked; and when she had received the
+same reply she drew a long breath, and a wonderful expression of
+relief came upon her face; all her being seemed to rise,--as if all
+in an instant she had flung away the burden of shame and fear that
+had been crushing her soul. She sat gazing at the other with a
+strange look in her eyes, and then she sank down and buried her head
+in her arms upon the table.
+
+And fully a minute passed thus without a sound. Helen was just
+lifting her head again, and Mr. Howard was about to speak, when an
+unexpected interruption caused him to stop. The front door was
+opened, and as Helen turned with a start the servant came and stood
+in the doorway.
+
+“What is it, Elizabeth?” Helen asked in a faint voice.
+
+“I have just been to the post office,” the woman answered; “here is
+a letter for you.”
+
+“Very well,” Helen answered; “give it to me.”
+
+And she took it and put it on the table in front of her. Then she
+waited until the servant was gone, and in the meantime, half
+mechanically, turned her eyes upon the envelope. Suddenly the man
+saw her give a violent start and turn very pale; she snatched up the
+letter and sprang to her feet, and stood supporting herself by the
+chair, her hand shaking, and her breath coming in gasps.
+
+“What is it?” Mr. Howard cried.
+
+Helen's voice was hoarse and choking as she answered him: “It is
+from Arthur!” As he started and half rose from his chair the girl
+tore open the letter and unfolded the contents, glancing at it once
+very swiftly, her eyes flying from line to line; the next instant
+she let it fall to the floor with a cry and clutched with her hands
+at her bosom. She tried to speak, but she was choking with her
+emotion; only her companion saw that her face was transfigured with
+delight; and then suddenly she sank down upon the sofa beside her,
+her form shaken with hysterical laughter and sobbing.
+
+Mr. Howard had risen from his chair in wonder; but before he could
+take a step toward her he heard someone in the hall, and Mr. Davis
+rushed into the room. “Helen, Helen!” he exclaimed, “what is the
+matter?” and sank down upon his knees beside her; the girl raised
+her head and then flung herself into his arms, exclaining
+incoherently: “Oh, Daddy, I am free! Oh, oh--can you believe it--I
+am free!”
+
+Long after her first ecstasy had passed Helen still lay with her
+head buried in her father's bosom, trembling and weeping and
+repeating half as if in a dream that last wonderful word, “Free!”
+ Meanwhile Mr. Davis had bent down and picked up the paper to glance
+over it.
+
+Most certainly Arthur would have wondered had he seen the effect of
+that letter upon Helen; for he wrote to her with bitter scorn, and
+told her that he had torn his love for her from his heart, and made
+himself master of his own life again. He bid her go on in the course
+she had chosen, for a day or two had been enough for him to find the
+end of her power over him, and of his care for her; and he added
+that he wrote to her only that she might not please herself with the
+thought of having wrecked him, and that he was going far away to
+begin his life again.
+
+The words brought many emotions to Mr. Davis, and suggested many
+doubts; but to Helen they brought but one thought. She still clung
+to her father, sobbing like a child and muttering the one word
+“Free!” When at last the fit had vented itself and she looked up
+again, she seemed to Mr. Howard more like a girl than she ever had
+before; and she wiped away her tears laughingly, and smoothed back
+her hair, and was wonderfully beautiful in her emotion. She
+introduced Mr. Howard to her father, and begged him to excuse her
+for her lack of self-control. “I could not help it,” she said, “for
+oh, I am so happy--so happy!” And she leaned her head upon her
+father's shoulder again and gazed up into his face. “Daddy dear,”
+ she said, “and are you not happy too?”
+
+“My dear,” Mr Davis protested, “of course I am glad to hear that
+Arthur is himself again. But that is not finding him, and I fear--”
+
+“Oh, oh, please don't!” Helen cried, the frightened look coming back
+upon her face in a flash. “Oh please do not tell me that--no, no! Do
+let me be happy just a little while--think of it, how wretched I
+have been! And now to know he is safe! Oh, please, Daddy!” And the
+tears had welled up in Helen's eyes again. She turned quickly to Mr.
+Howard, her voice trembling. “Tell me that I may be happy,” she
+exclaimed. “You know all about it, Mr. Howard. Is it not right that
+I should be happy just a little?”
+
+As her friend answered her gently that he thought it was, she sat
+looking at him for a moment, and then the cloud passed over. She
+brushed away her tears, and put her arms about her father again.
+
+“I cannot help it,” she went on, quickly, “I must be happy whether I
+want to or not! You must not mind anything I do! For oh, think what
+it means to have been so wretched, so crushed and so frightened! I
+thought that all my life was to be like that, that I could never
+sing again, because Arthur was ruined. Nobody will ever know how I
+felt,--how many tears I shed; and now think what it means to be
+free--to be free,--oh, free! And to be able to be good once more! I
+should go mad if I thought about it!”
+
+Helen had risen as she spoke, and she spread out her arms and flung
+back her head and drank in a deep breath of joy. She began singing,
+half to herself; and then as that brought a sudden idea into her
+mind she ran to the window and shut it quickly. “I will sing you my
+hymn!” she laughed, “_that_ is the way to be happy!”
+
+And she went to the piano; in a minute more she had begun the chorus
+she had sung to Arthur, “Hail thee Joy, from Heaven descending!” The
+flood of emotion that was pent up within her poured itself out in
+the wild torrent of music, and Helen seemed happy enough to make up
+for all the weeks of suffering. As she swept herself on she proved
+what she had said,--that she would go mad if she thought much about
+her release; and Mr. Howard and her father sat gazing at her in
+wonder. When she stopped she was quite exhausted and quite dazed,
+and came and buried her head in her father's arms, and sat waiting
+until the heaving of her bosom had subsided, and she was calm once
+more,--in the meantime murmuring faintly to herself again and again
+that she was happy and that she was free.
+
+When she looked up and brushed away her tangled hair again, perhaps
+she thought that her conduct was not very conventional, for she
+begged Mr. Howard's pardon once more, promising to be more orderly
+by and by. Then she added, laughing, “It is good that you should see
+me happy, though, because I have always troubled you with my
+egotisms before.” She went on talking merrily, until suddenly she
+sprang up and said, “I shall have to sing again if I do not run
+away, so I am going upstairs to make myself look respectable!” And
+with that she danced out of the room, waking the echoes of the house
+with her caroling:
+
+  “Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
+  Under the blossom that hangs on the bough!”
+
+  Lus-tig im Leid, sing'ich von Lieb-e!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+  “Some one whom I can court
+    With no great change of manner,
+  Still holding reason's fort,
+    Tho waving fancy's banner.”
+
+Several weeks had passed since Helen had received the letter from
+Arthur, the girl having in the meantime settled quietly down at
+Oakdale She had seen few of her friends excepting Mr. Howard, who
+had come out often from the city.
+
+She was expecting a visit from him one bright afternoon, and was
+standing by one of the pillars of the vine-covered porch, gazing up
+at the blue sky above her and waiting to hear the whistle of the
+train. When she saw her friend from the distance she waved her hand
+to him and went to meet him, laughing, “I am going to take you out
+to see my stream and my bobolink to-day. You have not seen our
+country yet, you know.”
+
+The girl seemed to Mr. Howard more beautiful that afternoon than he
+had ever known her before, for she was dressed all in white and
+there was the old spring in her step, and the old joy in her heart.
+When they had passed out of the village, she found the sky so very
+blue, and the clouds so very white, and the woods and meadows so
+very green, that she was radiantly happy and feared that she would
+have to sing. And she laughed:
+
+  “Away, away from men and towns,
+  To the wild wood and the downs!”
+
+And then interrupted herself to say, “You must not care, Mr. Howard,
+if I chatter away and do all the talking. It has been a long time
+since I have paid a visit to my friends out here, and they will all
+be here to welcome me.”
+
+Even as Helen spoke she looked up, and there was the bobolink flying
+over her head and pouring out his song; also the merry breeze was
+dancing over the meadows, and everything about her was in motion.
+
+“Do you know,” she told her companion, “I think most of the
+happiness of my life has been out in these fields; I don't know what
+made me so fond of the country, but even when I was a very little
+thing, whenever I learned a new song I would come out here and sing
+it. Those were times when I had nothing to do but be happy, you
+know, and I never thought about anything else. It has always been so
+easy for me to be happy, I don't know why. There is a fountain of
+joy in my heart that wells up whether I want it to or not, so that I
+can always be as merry as I choose. I am afraid that is very
+selfish, isn't it, Mr. Howard? I am trying to be right now, you
+know.”
+
+“You may consider you are being merry for my sake at present,” said
+the man with a laugh. “It is not always so easy for me to be
+joyful.”
+
+“Very well, then,” smiled Helen; “I only wish that you had brought
+your violin along. For you see I always think of these things of
+Nature with music; when I was little they were all creatures that
+danced with me. These winds that are so lively were funny little
+fairy-men, and you could see all the flowers shake as they swept
+over them; whenever I heard any music that was quick and bright I
+always used to fancy that some of them had hold of my hands and were
+teaching me to run. I never thought about asking why, but I used to
+find that very exciting. And then there was my streamlet--he's just
+ahead here past the bushes--and I used to like him best of all. For
+he was a very beautiful youth, with a crown of flowers upon his
+head; there was a wonderful light in his eyes, and his voice was
+very strong and clear, and his step very swift, so it was quite
+wonderful when you danced with him. For he was the lord of all the
+rest, and everything around you got into motion then; there was
+never any stopping, for you know the streamlet always goes faster
+and faster, and gets more and more joyous, until you cannot bear it
+any more and have to give up. We shall have to play the Kreutzer
+Sonata some time, Mr. Howard.'
+
+“I was thinking of that,” said the other, smiling.
+
+“I think it would be interesting to know what people imagine when
+they listen to music,” went on Helen. “I have all sorts of queer
+fancies for myself; whenever it gets too exciting there is always
+one last resource, you can fly away to the top of the nearest
+mountain. I don't know just why that is, but perhaps it's because
+you can see so much from there, or because there are so many winds;
+anyway, there is a dance--a wonderfully thrilling thing, if only the
+composer knows how to manage it. There is someone who dances with
+me--I never saw his face, but he's always there; and everything
+around you is flying fast, and there comes surge after surge of the
+music and sweeps you on,--perhaps some of those wild runs on the
+violins that are just as if the wind took you up in its arms and
+whirled you away in the air! That is a most tremendous experience
+when it happens, because then you go quite beside yourself and you
+see that all the world is alive and full of power; the great things
+of the forest begin to stir too, the trees and the strange shapes in
+the clouds, and all the world is suddenly gone mad with motion; and
+so by the time you come to the last chords your hands are clenched
+and you can hardly breathe, and you feel that all your soul is
+throbbing!”
+
+Helen was getting quite excited then, just over her own enthusiasm;
+perhaps it was because the wind was blowing about her. “Is that the
+way music does with you?” she laughed, as she stopped.
+
+“Sometimes,” said Mr. Howard, smiling in turn; “but then again while
+all my soul is throbbing I feel my neighbor reaching to put on her
+wraps, and that brings me down from the mountains so quickly that it
+is painful; afterwards you go outside among the cabs and cable-cars,
+and make sad discoveries about life.”
+
+“You are a pessimist,” said the girl.
+
+“Possibly,” responded the other, “but try to keep your fountain of
+joy a while, Miss Davis. There are disagreeable things in life to be
+done, and some suffering to be borne, and sometimes the fountain
+dries up very quickly indeed.”
+
+Helen was much more ready to look serious than she would have been a
+month before; she asked in a different tone, “You think that must
+always happen?”
+
+“Not quite always,” was the reply; “there are a few who manage to
+keep it, but it means a great deal of effort. Perhaps you never took
+your own happiness so seriously,” he added with a smile.
+
+“No,” said Helen, “I never made much effort that I know of.”
+
+“Some day perhaps you will have to,” replied the other, “and then
+you will think of the creatures of nature as I do, not simply as
+rejoicing, but as fighting the same battle and daring the same pain
+as you.”
+
+The girl thought for a moment, and then asked: “Do you really
+believe that as a fact?”
+
+“I believe something,” was the answer, “that makes me think when I
+go among men and see their dullness, that Nature is flinging wide
+her glory in helpless appeal to them; and that it is a dreadful
+accident that they have no eyes and she no voice.” He paused for a
+moment and then added, smiling, “It would take metaphysics to
+explain that; and meanwhile we were talking about your precious
+fountain of joy.”
+
+“I should think,” answered Helen, thoughtfully, “that it would be
+much better to earn one's happiness.”
+
+“Perhaps after you had tried it a while you would not think so,”
+ replied her companion; “that is the artist's life, you know, and in
+practice it is generally a very dreadful life. Real effort is very
+hard to make; and there is always a new possibility to lure the
+artist, so that his life is always restless and a cruel defeat.”
+
+“It is such a life that you have lived, Mr. Howard?” asked Helen,
+gazing at him.
+
+“There are compensations,” he replied, smiling slightly, “or there
+would be no artists. There comes to each one who persists some hour
+of victory, some hour when he catches the tide of his being at the
+flood, and when he finds himself master of all that his soul
+contains, and takes a kind of fierce delight in sweeping himself on
+and in breaking through everything that stands in his way. You made
+me think of such things by what you said of your joy in music; only
+perhaps the artist discovers that not only the streamlets and the
+winds have motion and meaning, but that the planets also have a word
+for his soul; and his own being comes suddenly to seem to him a
+power which it frightens him to know of, and he sees the genius of
+life as a spirit with eyes of flame. It lifts him from his feet and
+drags him away, and the task of his soul takes the form of something
+that he could cry out to escape. He has fought his way into the
+depths of being at last, and lie stands alone in all his littleness
+on the shore of an ocean whose waves are centuries--and then even
+while he is wondering and full of fear, his power begins to die
+within him and to go he knows not how; and when he looks at himself
+again he is like a man who has had a dream, and wakened with only
+the trembling left; except that he knows it was no dream but a fiery
+reality, and that the memory of it will cast a shadow over all the
+rest of his days and make them seem trivial and meaningless. No one
+knows how many years he may spend in seeking and never find that
+lost glory again.”
+
+Mr. Howard had been speaking very intensely, and when he stopped
+Helen did not reply at once, but continued gazing at him. “What is
+the use of such moments,” she asked at last, “if they only make one
+wretched?”
+
+“At least one may keep the memory,” he replied with a smile, “and
+that gives him a standard of reality. He learns to be humble, and
+learns how to judge men and men's glory, and the wonderful things of
+men's world,--so that while they are the most self-occupied and
+self-delighted creatures living he may see them as dumb cattle that
+are grazing while the sunrise is firing the hilltops.”
+
+“You have had such moments yourself?” asked Helen.
+
+“A long time ago,” said the other, smiling at the seriousness with
+which she spoke. “When you were telling me about your musical
+fancies you made me remember how once when I was young I climbed a
+high hill and had an adventure with a wind that was very swift and
+eager. At first I recollect I tried not to heed it, because I had
+been dull and idle and unhappy; but I found that I could not be very
+long in the presence of so much life without being made ashamed, and
+that brave windstorm put me through a course of repentance of the
+very sternest kind before it let me go. I tried just to promise that
+I would be more wide-awake and more true, but it paid not the least
+attention to that; and it would hear no arguments as to the
+consequences,--it came again and again with a furious burst, and
+swept me away every time I tried to think; it declared that I had
+been putting off the task of living my life long enough, and that I
+was to attend to it then and there. And when I gave myself up as
+demanded, it had not the least mercy upon me, and each time that I
+protested that I was at the end of my power it simply whirled me
+away again like a mad thing. When at last I came down from the
+hillside I had quite a new idea of what living meant, and I have
+been more respectful before the winds and other people of genius
+ever since.”
+
+Helen felt very much at home in that merry phantasy of her
+companion's, but she did not say anything; after a moment's waiting
+the other went on to tell her of something else that pleased her no
+less. “I remember,” he said, “how as I came down I chanced upon a
+very wonderful sight, one which made an impression upon me that I
+have not forgotten. It was a thicket of wild roses; and I have
+always dreamed that the wild rose was a creature of the wind and
+fire, but I never knew so much about it before. After that day I
+have come seriously to believe it would be best if we prudent and
+timid creatures, who neither dare nor care anything for the sake of
+beauty,--if we simply did not ever see the wild rose. For it lives
+only for a day or two, Miss Davis, and yet, as I discovered then, we
+may live all our years and never get one such burst of glory, one
+such instant of exultation and faith as that. And also I seriously
+think that among men and all the wonderful works of men there is
+nothing so beautiful and so precious as that little flower that none
+of them heeds.”
+
+Mr. Howard glanced at the girl suddenly; she had half stopped in her
+walk, and she was gazing at him with a very eager look in her bright
+eyes. “What is it?” he asked her, and Helen exclaimed, “Oh, I am so
+glad you mentioned it! I had forgotten--actually forgotten!”
+
+As her friend looked puzzled, the girl went on with her merriest
+laugh, “I must tell you all about it, and we shall be happy once
+more; for you turn down this path towards the woods, and then you
+must go very quietly and hold your breath, and prepare yourself just
+as if you were going into a great cathedral; for you want all your
+heart to be full of expectation and joy! It is for only about one
+week in the year that you may see this great sight, and the
+excitement of the first rapture is best of all. It would be so
+dreadful if you were not reverent; you must fancy that you are
+coming to hear a wonderful musician, and you know that he'll play
+for you, but you don't know just when. That's what I used to
+pretend, and I used to come every day for a week or two, and very
+early in the morning, when the dew was still everywhere and the
+winds were still gay. Several times you go back home disappointed,
+but that only makes you more eager for the next time; and when you
+do find them it is wonderful--oh, most wonderful! For there is a
+whole hedge of them along the edge of the wood; and you may be just
+as madly happy as you choose and never be half happy enough, because
+they are so beautiful!”
+
+“These are wild roses?” asked the other, smiling.
+
+“Yes,” said Helen, “and oh, think how many days I have forgotten
+them, and they may have bloomed! And for three years I have not been
+here, and I was thinking about it all the way over on the steamer.”
+ They had come to the path that turned off to the woods, and Helen
+led her companion down it, still prattling away in the meantime;
+when they came to the edge of the woods she began walking upon tip
+toe, and put her fingers upon her lips in fun. Then suddenly she
+gave a cry of delight, for there were the roses for a fact, a whole
+hedge of them as she had said, glowing in the bright sun and making
+a wonderful vision.
+
+The two stopped and stood gazing at them, the girl's whole soul
+dancing within her. “Oh do you know,” she cried suddenly, “I think
+that I could get drunk with just looking at roses! There is a
+strange kind of excitement that comes over one, from drinking in the
+sight of their rich red, and their gracefulness and perfume; it
+makes all my blood begin to flow faster, and I quite forget
+everything else.” Helen stood for a few moments longer with her
+countenance of joy; afterwards she went towards the flowers and
+knelt down in front of them, choosing a bud that was very perfect.
+“I always allow myself just one,” she said, “just one for love,” and
+then she bent over it, whispering softly:
+
+  “Hush, 'tis the lullaby time is singing,
+  Hush and heed not, for all things pass.”
+
+She plucked it and held it up before her, while the wind came up
+behind her and tossed it about, and tossed her skirts; Helen,
+radiant with laughter, glanced at her companion, saying gaily, “You
+must hold it very lightly, just like this, you know, with one finger
+and a thumb; and then you may toss it before you and lose yourself
+in its perfectness, until it makes all your soul feel gracious. Do
+you know, Mr. Howard, I think one could not live with the roses very
+long without becoming beautiful?”
+
+“That was what Plato thought,” said the other with a smile, “and
+many other wise people.”
+
+“I only wish that they might bloom forever,” said the girl, “I
+should try it.”
+
+Her companion had been lost in watching her, and now as she paused
+he said: “Sometimes, I have been happy with the roses, too, Miss
+Davis. Here is some music for your flower.” She gazed at him
+eagerly, and he recited, half laughingly:
+
+  “Wild rose, wild rose, sing me thy song,
+    Come, let us sing it together!--
+  I hear the silver streamlet call
+    From his home in the dewy heather.”
+
+  “Let us sing the wild dance with the mountain breeze,
+    The rush of the mountain rain,
+  And the passionate clasp of the glowing sun
+    When the clouds are rent again.”
+
+  “They tell us the time for the song is short,
+    That the wings of joy are fleet;
+  But the soul of the rose has bid me sing
+    That oh, while it lasts 'tis sweet!”
+
+Afterwards Helen stood for a moment in silence; then a happy idea
+came to her mind, and she turned towards the hedge of roses once
+more and threw back her head upon the wind and took a deep breath
+and began singing a very beautiful melody.
+
+As it swelled out Helen's joy increased until her face was alight
+with laughter, and very wonderful to see; she stood with the rose
+tossing in one of her hands, and with the other pressed upon her
+bosom,--“singing of summer in full-throated ease.” One might have
+been sure that the roses knew what she was saying, and that all
+about her loved her for her song.
+
+Yet the girl had just heard that the wings of joy are fleet; and she
+was destined to find even then that it was true. For when she
+stopped she turned to her companion with a happy smile and said, “Do
+you know what that is that I was singing?” When he said “No,” she
+went on, “It is some wild-rose music that somebody made for me, I
+think. It is in the same book as the ''Water Lily' that I played
+you.” And then in a flash the fearful memory of that evening came
+over the girl, and made her start back; for a moment she stood
+gazing at her friend, breathing very hard, and then she lowered her
+eyes and whispered faintly to herself, “And it was not a month ago!”
+
+There was a long silence after that, and when Helen looked up again
+the joy was gone out of her face, and she was the same frightened
+soul as before. Her lips were trembling a little as she said, “Mr.
+Howard, I feel somehow that I have no right to be quite happy, for I
+have done nothing to make myself good.” Then, thinking of her
+friend, she added, “I am spoiling your joy in the roses! Can you
+forgive me for that?” As he answered that he could, Helen turned
+away and said, “Let us go into the woods, because I do not like to
+see them any more just now.”
+
+They passed beneath the deep shadows of the trees, and Helen led Mr.
+Howard to the spring where she had been with Arthur. She sat down
+upon the seat, and then there was a long silence, the girl gazing
+steadfastly in front of her; she was thinking of the last time she
+had been there, and how it was likely that the pale, wan look must
+still be upon Arthur's face. Mr. Howard perhaps divined her thought,
+for he watched her for a long time without speaking a word, and then
+at last he said gently, as if to divert her attention, “Miss Davis,
+I think that you are not the first one whom the sight of the wild
+rose has made unhappy.”
+
+Helen turned and looked at him, and he gazed gravely into her eyes.
+For at least a minute he said nothing; when he went on his voice was
+much changed, and Helen knew not what to expect “Miss Davis,” he
+said, “God has given to the wild rose a very wonderful power of
+beauty and joy; and perhaps the man who looks at it has been
+dreaming all his life that somewhere he too might find such precious
+things and have them for his own. When he sees the flower there
+comes to him the fearful realization that with all the effort of his
+soul he has never won the glory which the wild rose wears by
+Heaven's free gift; and that perhaps in his loneliness and weakness
+he has even forgotten all about such high perfection. So there rises
+within him a yearning of all his being to forget his misery and his
+struggling, and to lay all his worship and all his care before the
+flower that is so sweet; he is afraid of his own sin and his own
+baseness, and now suddenly he finds a way of escape,--that he will
+live no longer for himself and his own happiness, but that his joy
+shall be the rose's joy, and all his life the rose's life. Do you
+think, my dear friend, that that might please the flower?”
+
+“Yes,” said Helen wonderingly, “it would be beautiful, if one could
+do it.”
+
+The other spoke more gently still as he answered her, his voice
+trembling slightly: “And do you not know, Miss Davis, that God has
+made _you_ a rose?”
+
+The girl started visibly; she whispered, “You say that to me, Mr.
+Howard? Why do you say that to _me_?”
+
+And he fixed his dark eyes upon her, his voice very low as he
+responded: “I say it to you,--because I love you.”
+
+And Helen shrank back and stared at him; and then as she saw his
+look her own dropped lower and lower and the color mounted to her
+face. Mr. Howard paused for a moment or two and then very gently
+took one of her hands in his, and went on:
+
+“Helen,” he said,--“you must let me call you Helen--listen to me a
+while, for I have something to tell you. And since we both of us
+love the roses so much, perhaps it will be beautiful to speak of
+them still. I want to tell you how the man who loves the flower
+needs not to love it for his own sake, but may love it for the
+flower's; how one who really worships beauty, worships that which is
+not himself, and the more he worships it the less he thinks of
+himself. And Helen, you can never know how hard a struggle my life
+has been, just to keep before me something to love,--how lonely a
+struggle it has been, and how sad. I can only tell you that there
+was very little strength left, and very little beauty, and that it
+was all I could do to remember there was such a thing as joy in the
+world, and that I had once possessed it. The music that moved me and
+the music that I made was never your wild-rose singing, but such
+yearning, restless music as you heard in the garden. I cannot tell
+you how much I have loved that little piece that I played then;
+perhaps it is my own sad heart that finds such breathing passion in
+it, but I have sent it out into the darkness of many a night,
+dreaming that somewhere it might waken an echo. For as long as the
+heart beats it never ceases to hunger and to hope, and I felt that
+somewhere in the world there must be left some living creature that
+was beautiful and pure, and that might be loved. So it was that when
+I saw you all my soul was roused within me; you were the fairest of
+all God's creatures that I had ever seen. That was why I was so
+bitter at first, and that was why all my heart went out to you when
+I saw your suffering, and why it is to me the dearest memory of my
+lifetime that I was able to help you. Afterwards when I saw how true
+you were, I was happier than I had ever dared hope to be again; for
+when I went back to my lonely little home, it was no longer to think
+about myself and my sorrow and my dullness, but to think about
+you,--to rejoice in your salvation, and to pray for you in your
+trouble, and to wait for the day when I might see you again. And so
+I knew that something had happened to me for which I had yearned, oh
+so long and so painfully!--that my heart had been taken from me,
+and that I was living in another life; I knew, dear Helen, that I
+loved you. I said to myself long ago, before you got Arthur's
+letter, that I would wait for the chance to say this to you, to take
+your hand in mine and say: Sweet girl, the law of my life has been
+that all my soul I must give to the best thing that ever I know; and
+that thing is you. You must know that I love you, and how I love
+you; that I lay myself at your feet and ask to help you and watch
+over you and strengthen you all that I may. For your life is young
+and there is much to be hoped for in it, and to my own poor self
+there is no longer any duty that I owe. My heart is yours, and I ask
+for nothing but that I may love you. Those were the words that I
+first meant to say to you, Helen; and to ask you if it pleased you
+that I should speak to you thus.”
+
+Mr. Howard stopped, and after he had waited a minute, the girl
+raised her eyes to his face. She did not answer him, but she put out
+her other hand and laid it very gently in his own.
+
+There was a long silence before the man continued; at last he said,
+“Dear Helen, that was what I wished to say to you, and no more than
+that, because I believed that I was old, and that my heart was dying
+within me. But oh, when that letter came from Arthur, it was as if I
+heard the voice of my soul crying out to me that my life had just
+begun, that I had still to love. As I came out here into the forest
+with you to-day, my soul was full of a wondrous thought, a thought
+that brought more awe and rapture than words have power to tell; it
+was that this precious maiden was not made to be happy alone, but
+that some day she and all her being would go out to someone, to
+someone who could win her heart, who could love her and worship her
+as she deserved. And my soul cried out to me that _I_ could worship
+you; the thought wakened in me a wilder music than ever I had heard
+in my life before. Here as I kneel before you and hold your hands in
+mine, dear Helen, all my being cries out to you to come to me; for
+in your sorrow your heart has been laid bare to my sight, and I have
+seen only sweetness and truth. To keep it, and serve it, and feed it
+upon thoughts of beauty, would be all that I could care for in life;
+and the thought of winning you for mine, so that all your life I
+might cherish you, is to me a joy which brings tears into my eyes.
+Oh, dearest girl, I must live before you with that prayer, and tell
+me what you will, I must still pray it. Nor do I care how long you
+ask me to wait; my life has now but one desire, to love you in such
+a way as best may please you, to love you as much as you will let
+me. Helen, I have told all myself to you, and here as we gaze into
+each other's eyes our souls are bare to each other. As I say those
+words they bring to me a thought that sweeps away all my
+being,--that perhaps the great sorrow you have known has chastened
+your heart so that you too wish to forget yourself, and worship at
+the shrine of love; I see you trembling, and I think that perhaps it
+may be that, and that it needs only a word of mine to bring your
+soul to me! What that thought is I cannot tell you; but oh, it has
+been the dream of my life, it has been the thing for which I have
+lived, and for which I was dying. If I could win you for mine,
+Helen, for mine--and take you away with me, away from all else but
+love! The thought of it chokes me, and fills me with mighty anguish
+of yearning; and my soul burns for you, and I stretch out my arms to
+you; and I cry out to you that the happiness of my life is in your
+hands--that I love you--oh, that I love you!”
+
+As the man had been speaking he had sunk down before Helen, still
+clasping her hands in his own. A great trembling had seized upon the
+girl and her bosom was rising and falling swiftly; but she mastered
+herself with a desperate effort and looked up, staring at him. “You
+tell me that you love me,” she gasped, “you tell me that I am
+perfect! And yet you know what I have done--you have seen all my
+wrongness!”
+
+Her voice broke, and she could not speak a word more; she bowed her
+head and the trembling came again, while the other clasped her hands
+more tightly and bent towards her. “Helen,” he said, “I call you to
+a sacred life that forgets all things but love. Precious girl, my
+soul cries out to me that I have a right to you, that you were made
+that I might kneel before you; it cries out to me, 'Speak the word
+and claim her, claim her for your own, for no man could love her
+more than you love her. Tell her that all your life you have waited
+for this sacred hour to come; tell her that you have power and life,
+and that all your soul is hers!' And oh, dear heart, if only you
+could tell me that you might love me, that years of waiting might
+win you, it would be such happiness as I have never dared to dream.
+Tell me, Helen, tell me if it be true!”
+
+And the girl lifted her face to him, and he saw that all her soul
+had leaped into her eyes. Her bosom heaved, and she flung back her
+head and stretched wide her arms, and cried aloud, “Oh, David, I do
+love you!”
+
+He clasped her in his arms and pressed her upon his bosom in an
+ecstasy of joy, and kissed the lips that had spoken the wonderful
+words. “Tell me,” he exclaimed, “you will be mine?” And she answered
+him, “Yours!”
+
+For that there was no answer but the clasp of his love. At last he
+whispered, “Oh, Helen, a lifetime of worship can never repay you for
+words like those. My life, my soul, tell me once more, for you
+cannot be mine too utterly; tell me once more that you are mine!”
+
+And suddenly she leaned back her head and looked into his burning
+eyes, and began swiftly, her voice choking: “Oh, listen, listen to
+me!--if it be a pleasure to you to know how you have this heart. I
+tell you, wonderful man that God has given me for mine, that I loved
+you the first word that I heard you speak in the garden. You were
+all that I knew of in life to yearn for--you were a wonderful light
+that had flashed upon me and blinded me; and when I saw my own
+vileness in it I flung myself down on my face, and felt a more
+fearful despair than I had ever dreamed could torture a soul. I
+would have crawled to you upon my knees and groveled in the dirt and
+begged you to have mercy upon me; and afterwards when you lifted me
+up, I could have kissed the ground that you trod. But oh, I knew one
+thing, and it was all that gave me courage ever to look upon you; I
+heard the sacred voice of my womanhood within me, telling me that I
+was not utterly vile, because it was in my ignorance that I had done
+my sin; and that if ever I had known what love really was, I should
+have laughed at the wealth of empires. To win your heart I would
+fling away all that I ever cared for in life--my beauty, my health,
+my happiness--yes, I would fling away my soul! And when you talked
+to me of love and told me that its sacrifice was hard, I--I, little
+girl that I am--could have told you that you were talking as a
+child; and I thought, 'Oh, if only this man, instead of urging me to
+love another and win my peace, if only _he_ were not afraid to trust
+me, if only he were willing that I should love _him!_' And this
+afternoon when I set out with you, do you know what was the real
+thing that lay at the bottom of my heart and made me so happy? I
+said to myself, 'It may take months, and it may take years, but
+there is a crown in life that I may win--that I may win forever!
+And this man shall tell me my duty, and night and day I shall watch
+and pray to do it, and do more; and he will not know why I do it,
+but it shall be for nothing but the love of him; and some day the
+worship that is in his heart shall come to me, tho it find me upon
+my death-bed.' And now you take me and tell me that I have only to
+love you; and you frighten me, and I cannot believe that it is true!
+But oh, you are pilot and master, and you know, and I will believe
+you--only tell me this wonderful thing again that I may be
+sure--that in spite of all my weakness and my helplessness and my
+failures, you love me--and you trust me--and you ask for me. If
+that is really the truth, David,--tell me if that is really the
+truth!”
+
+David whispered to her, “Yes, yes; that is the truth;” and the girl
+went on swiftly, half sobbing with her emotion:
+
+“If you tell me that, what more do I need to know? You are my life
+and my soul, and you call me. For the glory of your wonderful love I
+will leave all the rest of the world behind me, and you may take me
+where you will and when you will, and do with me what you please.
+And oh, you who frightened me so about my wrongness and told me how
+hard it was to be right--do you know how easy it is for me to say
+those words? And do you know how happy I am--because I love you and
+you are mine? David--my David--my heart has been so full,--so wild
+and thirsty,--that now when you tell me that you want all my love,
+it is a word of glory to me, it tells me to be happy as never in my
+life have I been happy before!”
+
+And David bent towards her and kissed her upon her beautiful lips
+and upon her forehead; and he pressed the trembling form closer upon
+him, so that the heaving of her bosom answered to his own. “Listen,
+my love, my precious heart,” he whispered, “I will tell you about
+the vision of my life, now when you and I are thus heart to heart.
+Helen, my soul cries out that this union must be perfect, in mind
+and soul and body a blending of all ourselves; so that we may live
+in each other's hearts, and seek each other's perfection; so that we
+may have nothing one from the other, but be one and the same soul in
+the glory of our love. That is such a sacred thought, my life, my
+darling; it makes all my being a song! And as I clasp you to me
+thus, and kiss you, I feel that I have never been so near to God. I
+have worshiped all my days in the great religion of love, and now as
+the glory of it burns in my heart I feel lifted above even us, and
+see that it is because of Him that we love each other so; because He
+is one, our souls may be one, actually and really one, so that each
+loses himself and lives the other's life. I know that I love you so
+that I can fling my whole self away, and give up every thought in
+life but you. As I tell you that, my heart is bursting; oh! drink in
+this passion of mine, and tell me once more that you love me!”
+
+Helen had still been leaning back her head and gazing into his eyes,
+all her soul uplifted in the glory of her emotion; there was a wild
+look upon her face,--and her breath was coming swiftly. For a moment
+more she gazed at him, and then she buried her face on his shoulder,
+crying, “Mine--mine!” For a long time she clung to him, breathing
+the word and quite lost in the joy of it; until at last she leaned
+back her head and gazed up into his eyes once more.
+
+“Oh, David,” she said, “what can I answer you? I can only tell you
+one thing, that here I am in your arms, and that I am yours--yours!
+And I love you, oh, before God I love you with all my soul! And I am
+so happy--oh, David, so happy! Dearest heart, can you not see how
+you have won me, so that I cannot live without you, so that anything
+you ask of me you may have? I cannot tell you any more, because I am
+trembling so, and I am so weak; for this has been more than I can
+bear, it is as if all my being were melting within me. But oh, I
+never thought that a human being could be so happy, or that to love
+could be such a world of wonder and joy.”
+
+Helen, as she had been speaking, had sunk down exhaustedly, letting
+her head fall forward upon her bosom; she lay quite limp in David's
+arms, while little by little the agitation that had so shaken her
+subsided. In the meantime he was bending over the golden hair that
+was so wild and so beautiful, and there were tears in his eyes. When
+at last the girl was quiet she leaned back her head upon his arm and
+looked up into his face, and he bent over her and pressed a kiss
+upon her mouth. Helen gazed into his eyes and asked him:
+
+“David, do you really know what you have done to this little maiden,
+how fearfully and how madly you have made her yours? I never dreamed
+of what it could mean to love before; when men talked to me of it I
+laughed at them, and the touch of their hands made me shrink. And
+now here I am, and everything about me is changed. Take me away with
+you, David, and keep me--I do not care what becomes of me, if only
+you let me have your heart.”
+
+The girl closed her eyes and lay still again for a long time; when
+she began to speak once more it was softly, and very slowly, and
+half as if in a dream: “David,” she whispered, “_my_ David, I am
+tired; I think I never felt so helpless. But oh, dear heart, it
+seems a kind of music in my soul,--that I have cast all my sorrow
+away, and that I may be happy again, and be at peace--at peace!” And
+the girl repeated the words to herself more and more gently, until
+her voice had died away altogether; the other was silent for a long
+time, gazing down upon the perfect face, and then at last he kissed
+the trembling eyelids till they opened once again.
+
+“Sweet girl,” he whispered, “as God gives me life you shall never be
+sorry for that beautiful faith, or sorry that you have laid bare
+your heart to me.” Long afterwards, having watched her without
+speaking, he went on with a smile, “I wonder if you would not be
+happier yet, dearest, if I should tell you all the beautiful things
+that I mean to do with you. For now that you are all mine, I am
+going to carry you far away; you will like that, will you not,
+precious one?”
+
+He saw a little of an old light come back into Helen's eyes as he
+asked that question. “What difference does it make?” she asked,
+gently.
+
+David laughed and went on: “Very well then, you shall have nothing
+to do with it. I shall take you in my arms just as you are. And I
+have a beautiful little house, a very little house among the wildest
+of mountains, and there we shall live this wonderful summer, all
+alone with our wonderful love. And there we shall have nature to
+worship, and beautiful music, and beautiful books to read. You shall
+never have anything more to think about all your life but making
+yourself perfect and beautiful.”
+
+The girl had raised herself up and was gazing at him with interest
+as he spoke thus. But he saw a swift frown cross her features at his
+last words, and he stopped and asked her what was the matter.
+Helen's reply was delivered very gravely. “What I was to think
+about,” she said, “was settled long ago, and I wish you would not
+say wicked things like that to me.”
+
+A moment later she laughed at herself a little; but then, pushing
+back her tangled hair from her forehead, she went on seriously:
+“David, what you tell me of is all that I ever thought of enjoying
+in life; and yet I am so glad that you did not say anything about it
+before! For I want to love you because of _you_, and I want you to
+know that I would follow you and worship you and live in your love
+if there were nothing else in life for you to offer me. And, David,
+do you not see that you are never going to make this poor, restless
+creature happy until you have given her something stern to do,
+something that she may know she is doing just for your love and for
+nothing else, bearing some effort and pain to make you happy?”
+
+The girl had put her hands upon his shoulders, and was gazing
+earnestly into his eyes; he looked at her for a moment, and then
+responded in a low voice: “Helen, dearest, let us not play with
+fearful words, and let us not tempt sorrow. My life has not been all
+happiness, and you will have pain enough to share with me, I fear,
+poor little girl.” She thought in a flash of his sickness, and she
+turned quite pale as she looked at him; but then she bent forward
+gently and folded her arms about him, and for a minute more there
+was silence.
+
+There were tears standing in David's eyes when she looked at him
+again. But he smiled in spite of them and kissed her once more, and
+said: “Sweetheart, it is not wrong that we should be happy while we
+can; and come what may, you know, we need not ever cease to love.
+When I hear such noble words from you I think I have a medicine to
+make all sickness light; so be bright and beautiful once more for my
+sake.”
+
+Helen smiled and answered that she would, and then her eye chanced
+to light upon the ground, where she saw the wild rose lying
+forgotten; she stooped down and picked it up, and then knelt on the
+grass beside David and pressed it against his bosom while she gazed
+up into his face. “Once,” she said, smiling tenderly, “I read a
+pretty little stanza, and if you will love me more for it, I will
+tell it to you.
+
+  “'The sweetest flower that blows
+    I give you as we part,
+  To you, it is a rose,
+    To me, it is a heart.'”
+
+And the man took the flower, and took the hands too, and kissed
+them; then a memory chanced to come to him, and he glanced about him
+on the moss-covered forest floor. He saw some little clover-like
+leaves that all forest-lovers love, and he stooped and picked one of
+the gleaming white blossoms and laid it in Helen's hands. “Dearest,”
+ he said, “it is beautiful to make love with the flowers; I chanced
+to think how I once _wrote_ a pretty little poem, and if you will
+love me more for it, I will tell it to _you_.” Then while the girl
+gazed at him happily, he went on to add, “This was long before I
+knew you, dear, and when I worshiped the flowers. One of them was
+this little wood sorrel.
+
+  I found it in the forest dark,
+    A blossom of the snow;
+  I read upon its face so fair,
+    No heed of human woe.
+
+  Yet when I sang my passion song
+    And when the sun rose higher,
+  The flower flung wide its heart to me,
+    And lo! its heart was fire.”
+
+Helen gazed at him a moment after he finished, and then she took the
+little flower and laid it gently back in the group from which he had
+plucked it; afterwards she looked up and laughed. “I want that poem
+for myself,” she said, and drew closer to him, and put her arms
+about him; he gazed into her upraised face, and there was a look of
+wonder in his eyes.
+
+“Oh, precious girl,” he said, “I wonder if you know what a vision of
+beauty God has made you! I wonder if you know how fair your eyes
+are, if you know what glory a man may read in your face! Helen, when
+I look upon you I know that God has meant to pay me for all my years
+of pain; and it is all that I can do to think that you are really,
+really mine. Do you not know that to gaze upon you will make me a
+mad, mad creature for years and years and years?”
+
+Helen answered him gravely: “With all my beauty, David, I am really,
+really yours; and I love you so that I do not care anything in the
+world about being beautiful, except because it makes you happy; to
+do that I shall be always just as perfect as I may, thro all those
+mad years and years and years!” Then, as she glanced about her, she
+added: “We must go pretty soon, because it is late; but oh, before
+we do, sweetheart, will you kiss me once more for all those years
+and years and years?”
+
+And David bent over and clasped her in his arms again,
+
+  Sie ist mir ewig, ist mir
+  immer, Erb und Eigen, ein und all!
+
+END OF PART I
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+  “When summer gathers up her robes of glory,
+  And like a dream of beauty glides away.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+  “Across the hills and far away,
+    Beyond their utmost purple rim,
+  And deep into the dying day
+    The happy princess follow'd him.”
+
+It was several months after Helen's marriage. The scene was a little
+lake, in one of the wildest parts of the Adirondacks, surrounded by
+tall mountains which converted it into a basin in the land, and
+walled in by a dense growth about the shores, which added still more
+to its appearance of seclusion. In only one place was the scenery
+more open, where there was a little vale between two of the hills,
+and where a mountain torrent came rushing down the steep incline.
+There the underbrush had been cleared away, and beneath the great
+forest trees a house constructed, a little cabin built of logs, and
+in harmony with the rest of the scene.
+
+It was only large enough for two or three rooms downstairs, and as
+many above, and all were furnished in the plainest way. About the
+main room there were shelves of books, and a piano and a well-chosen
+music-library. It was the little home which for a dozen years or
+more David Howard had occupied alone, and where he and Helen had
+spent the golden summer of their love.
+
+It was late in the fall then, and the mountains were robed in
+scarlet and orange. Helen was standing upon the little piazza, a
+shawl flung about her shoulders, because it was yet early in the
+morning. She was talking to her father, who had been paying them a
+few days' visit, and was taking a last look about him at the fresh
+morning scene before it was time for him to begin his long homeward
+journey.
+
+Helen was clad in a simple dress, and with the prettiest of white
+sun bonnets tied upon her head; she was browned by the sun, and
+looked a picture of health and happiness as she held her father's
+arm in hers. “And then you are quite sure that you are happy?” he
+was saying, as he looked at her radiant face.
+
+She echoed the word--“Happy?” and then she stretched out her arms
+and took a deep breath and echoed it again. “I am so happy,” she
+laughed, “I never know what to do! You did not stay long enough for
+me to tell you, Daddy!” She paused for a moment, and then went on,
+“I think there never was anybody in the world so full of joy. For
+this is such a beautiful little home, you know, and we live such a
+beautiful life; and oh, we love each other so that the days seem to
+fly by like the wind! I never even have time to think how happy I
+am.”
+
+“Your husband really loves you as much as he ought,” said the
+father, gazing at her tenderly.
+
+“I think God never put on earth another such man as David,” replied,
+the girl, with sudden gravity. “He is so noble, and so unselfish in
+every little thing; I see it in his eyes every instant that all his
+life is lived for nothing but to win my love. And it just draws the
+heart right out of me, Daddy, so that I could live on my knees
+before him, just trying to tell him how much I love him. I cannot
+ever love him enough; but it grows--it grows like great music, and
+every day my heart is more full!”
+
+Helen was standing with her head thrown back, gazing ahead of her;
+then she turned and laughed, and put her arm about her father again,
+saying: “Haven't you just seen what a beautiful life we live? And
+oh, Daddy, most of the time I am afraid because I married David,
+when I see how much he knows. Just think of it,--he has lived all
+alone ever since he was young, and done nothing but read and study.
+Now he brings all those treasures to me, to make me happy with, and
+he frightens me.” She stopped for a moment and then continued
+earnestly: “I have to be able to go with him everywhere, you know, I
+can't expect him to stay back all his life for me; and that makes me
+work very hard. David says that there is one duty in the world
+higher than love, and that is the duty of labor,--that no soul in
+the world can be right for one instant if it is standing still and
+is satisfied, even with the soul it loves. He told me that before he
+married me, but at first when we came up here he was so impatient
+that he quite frightened me; but now I have learned to understand it
+all, and we are wonderfully one in everything. Daddy, dear, isn't it
+a beautiful way to live, to be always striving, and having something
+high and sacred in one's mind? And to make all of one's life from
+one's own heart, and not to be dependent upon anything else? David
+and I live away off here in the mountains, and we never have
+anything of what other people call comforts and enjoyments--we have
+nothing but a few books and a little music, and Nature, and our own
+love; and we are so wonderfully happy with just those that nothing
+else in the world could make any difference, certainly nothing that
+money could buy us.”
+
+“I was worried when you wrote me that you did not even have a
+servant,” said Mr. Davis.
+
+“It isn't any trouble,” laughed Helen. (David's man lived in the
+village half a mile away and came over every day to bring what was
+necessary.) “This is such a tiny little cottage, and David and I are
+very enthusiastic people, and we want to be able to make lots of
+noise and do just as we please. We have so much music, you know,
+Daddy, and of course David is quite a wild man when he gets excited
+with music.”
+
+Helen stopped and looked at her father and laughed; then she rattled
+merrily on: “We are both of us just two children, for David is so
+much in love with me that it makes him as young as I am; and we are
+away off from everything, and so we can be as happy with each other
+as we choose. We have this little lake all to ourselves, you know;
+it's getting cold now, and pretty soon we'll have to fly away to the
+south, but all this summer long we used to get up in the morning in
+time to see the sun rise, and to have a wonderful swim. And then we
+have so many things to read and study; and David talks to me, and
+tells me all that he knows; and besides all that we have to tell
+each other how much we love each other, which takes a fearful amount
+of time. It seems that neither of us can ever quite realize the
+glory of it, and when we think of it, it is a wonder that nobody
+ever told. Is not that a beautiful way to live, Daddy dear, and to
+love?”
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Davis, “that is a very beautiful way indeed. And I
+think that my little girl has all that I could wish her to have.”
+
+“Oh, there is no need to tell me that!” laughed Helen. “All I wish
+is that I might really be like David and be worth his love; I never
+think about anything else all day.” The girl stood for a moment
+gazing at her father, and then, looking more serious, she put her
+arm about him and whispered softly: “And oh, Daddy, it is too
+wonderful to talk about, but I ought to tell you; for some day by
+and by God is going to send us a new, oh, a new, new wonder!” And
+Helen blushed beautifully as her father gazed into her eyes.
+
+He took her hand tenderly in his own, and the two stood for some
+time in silence. When it was broken it was by the rattling of the
+wagon which had come to take Mr. Davis away.
+
+David came out then to bid his guest good-by, and the three stood
+for a few minutes conversing. It was not very difficult for, Helen
+to take leave of her father, for she would see him, so she said, in
+a week or two more. She stood waving her hands to him, until the
+bumping wagon was lost to sight in the woods, and then she turned
+and took David's hand in hers and gazed across the water at the
+gorgeous-colored mountains. The lake was sparkling in the sunlight,
+and the sky was bright and clear, but Helen's thoughts took a
+different turn from that.
+
+All summer long she had been rejoicing in the glory of the landscape
+about her, in the glowing fern and the wild-flowers underfoot, and
+in the boundless canopy of green above, with its unresting
+song-birds; now there were only the shrill cries of a pair of
+blue-jays to be heard, and every puff of wind that came brought down
+a shower of rustling leaves to the already thickly-covered ground.
+
+“Is it not sad, David,” the girl said, “to think how the beauty
+should all be going?”
+
+David did not answer her for a moment. “When I think of it,” he said
+at last, “it brings me not so much sadness as a strange feeling of
+mystery. Only stop, and think of what that vanished springtime
+meant--think that it was a presence of living, feeling, growing
+creatures,--infinite, unthinkable masses of them, robing all the
+world; and that now the life and the glory of it all is suddenly
+gone back into nothingness, that it was all but a fleeting vision, a
+phantom presence on the earth. I never realize that without coming
+to think of all the other things of life, and that they too are no
+more real than the springtime flowers; and so it makes me feel as if
+I were walking upon air, and living in a dream.”
+
+Helen was leaning against a post of the piazza, her eyes fixed upon
+David intently. “Does that not give a new meaning to the vanished
+spring-time?” he asked her; and she replied in a wondering whisper,
+“Yes,” and then gazed at him for a long time.
+
+“David,” she said at last, “it is fearful to think of a thing like
+that. What does it all mean? What causes it?”
+
+“Men have been asking that helpless question since the dawn of
+time,” he answered, “we only know what we see, this whirling and
+weaving of shadows, with its sacred facts of beauty and love.”
+
+Helen looked at him thoughtfully a moment, and then, recollecting
+something she had heard from her father, she said, “But, David, if
+God be a mystery like that, how can there be any religion?”
+
+“What we may fancy God to be makes no difference,” he answered.
+“That which we know is always the same, we have always the love and
+always the beauty. All men's religion is but the assertion that the
+source of these sacred things must be infinitely sacred, and that
+whatever may happen to us, that source can suffer no harm; that we
+live by a power stronger than ourselves, and that has no need of
+us.”
+
+Helen was looking at her husband anxiously; then suddenly she asked
+him, “But tell me then, David; you do not believe in heaven? You do
+not believe that our souls are immortal?” As he answered her in the
+negative she gave a slight start, and knitted her brows; and after
+another pause she demanded, “You do not believe in revealed religion
+then?”
+
+David could not help smiling, recognizing the voice of his clerical
+father-in-law; when he answered, however, he was serious again.
+“Some day, perhaps, dear Helen,” he said, “I will tell you all about
+what I think as to such things. But very few of the world's real
+thinkers believe in revealed religions any more--they have come to
+see them simply as guesses of humanity at God's great sacred
+mystery, and to believe that God's way of revealing Himself to men
+is through the forms of life itself. As to the question of
+immortality that you speak of, I have always felt that death is a
+sign of the fact that God is infinite and perfect, and that we are
+but shadows in his sight; that we live by a power that is not our
+own, and seek for beauty that is not our own, and that each instant
+of our lives is a free gift which we can only repay by thankfulness
+and worship.”
+
+He paused for a moment, and the girl, who had still been gazing at
+him thoughtfully, went on, “Father used to talk about those things
+to me, David, and he showed me how the life of men is all spent in
+suffering and struggling, and that therefore faith teaches us---”
+
+“Yes, dearest,” the other put in, “I know all that you are going to
+say; I have read these arguments very often, you know. But suppose
+that I were to tell you that I think suffering and struggling is the
+very essence of the soul, and that what faith teaches us is that the
+suffering and struggling are sacred, and not in the least that they
+are some day to be made as nothing? Dearest, if it is true that the
+soul makes this life what it is, a life of restless seeking for an
+infinite, would it not make the same life anywhere else? Do you
+remember reading with me Emerson's poem about Uriel, the seraph who
+sang before God's throne,--how even that could not please him, and
+how he left it to plunge into the struggle of things imperfect; and
+how ever after the rest of the seraphim were afraid of Uriel? Do you
+think, dearest, that this life of love and labor that you and I live
+our own selves needs anything else to justify it? The life that I
+lived all alone was much harder and more full of pain than this, but
+I never thought that it needed any rewarding.”
+
+David stopped and stood gazing ahead of him thoughtfully; when he
+continued his voice was lower and more solemn. “These things are
+almost too sacred to talk of, Helen,” he said; “but there is one
+doubt that I have known about this, one thing that has made me
+wonder if there ought not to be another world after all. I never
+sympathized with any man's longing for heaven, but I can understand
+how a man might be haunted by some fearful baseness of his own
+self,--something which long years of effort had taught him he could
+not ever expiate by the strength of his own heart,--and how he could
+pray that there might be some place where rightness might be won at
+last, cost what it would.”
+
+The man's tone had been so strange as he spoke that it caused Helen
+to start; suddenly she came closer to him and put her hands upon his
+shoulders and gazed into his eyes. “David,” she whispered, “listen
+to me a moment.”
+
+“Yes, dear,” he said, “what is it?”
+
+“Was it because of yourself that you said those words?”
+
+He was silent for a moment, gazing into her anxious eyes; then he
+bowed his head and said in a faint voice, “Yes, dear, it was because
+of myself.”
+
+And the girl, becoming suddenly very serious, went on, “Do you
+remember, David, a long time ago--the time that I was leaving Aunt
+Polly's--that you told me how you knew what it was to have
+something very terrible on one's conscience? I have not ever said
+anything about that, but I have never forgotten it. Was it that that
+you thought of then?”
+
+“Yes, dear, it was that,” answered the other, trembling slightly.
+
+Helen stooped down upon her knees and put her arms about him, gazing
+up pleadingly into his face. “Dearest David,” she whispered, “is it
+right to refuse to tell me about that sorrow?”
+
+There was a long silence, after which the man replied slowly, “I
+have not ever refused to tell you, sweetheart; it would be very
+fearful to tell, but I have not any secrets from you; and if you
+wished it, you should know. But, dear, it was long, long ago, and
+nothing can ever change it now. It would only make us sad to know
+it, so why should we talk of it?”
+
+He stopped, and Helen gazed long and earnestly into his face.
+“David,” she said, “it is not possible for me to imagine you ever
+doing anything wrong, you are so good.”
+
+“Perhaps,” said David, “it is because you are so good yourself.” But
+Helen interrupted him at that with a quick rejoinder: “Do you forget
+that I too have a sorrow upon my conscience?” Afterwards, as she saw
+that the eager remark caused the other to smile in spite of himself,
+she checked him gravely with the words, “Have you really forgotten
+so soon? Do you suppose I do not ever think now of how I treated
+poor Arthur, and how I drove away from me the best friend of my
+girlhood? He wrote me that he would think of me no more, but, David,
+sometimes I wonder if it were not just an angry boast, and if he
+might not yet be lonely and wretched, somewhere in this great cold
+world where I cannot ever find him or help him.”
+
+The girl paused; David was regarding her earnestly, and for a long
+time neither of them spoke. Then suddenly the man bent down, and
+pressed a kiss upon her forehead. “Let us only love each other,
+dear,” he whispered, “and try to keep as right as we can while the
+time is given us.”
+
+There was a long silence after that while the two sat gazing out
+across the blue lake; when Helen spoke again it was to say, “Some
+day you must tell me all about it, David, because I can help you;
+but let us not talk about these dreadful things now.” She stopped
+again, and afterwards went on thoughtfully, “I was thinking still of
+what you said about immortality, and how very strange it is to think
+of ceasing to be. Might it not be, David, that heaven is a place not
+of reward, but of the same ceaseless effort as you spoke of?”
+
+“Ah, yes,” said the other, “that is the thought of 'the wages of
+going on.' And of course, dear, we would all like those wages; there
+is no thought that tempts me so much as the possibility of being
+able to continue the great race forever; but I don't see how we have
+the least right to demand it, or that the facts give us the least
+reason to suppose that we will get it. It seems to me simply a
+fantastic and arbitrary fancy; the re-creating of a worn-out life in
+that way. I do not think, dearest, that I am in the least justified
+in claiming an eternity of vision because God gives me an hour; and
+when I ask Him the question in my own heart I learn simply that I am
+a wretched, sodden creature that I do not crowd that hour with all
+infinity and go quite mad at the sight of the beauty that He flings
+wide before me.”
+
+Helen did not reply for a while, and then she asked: “And you think,
+David, that our life justifies itself no matter how much suffering
+may be in it?”
+
+“I think, dearest,” was his reply, “that the soul's life is
+struggle, and that the soul's life is sacred; and that to be right,
+to struggle to be right, is not only life's purpose, but also life's
+reward; and that each instant of such righteousness is its own
+warrant, tho the man be swept out of existence in the next.” Then
+David stopped, and when he went on it was in a lower voice. “Dear
+Helen,” he said, “after I have told you what I feel I deserve in
+life, you can understand my not wishing to talk lightly about such
+things as suffering. Just now, as I sit here at my ease, and in fact
+all through my poor life, I have felt about such sacred words as
+duty and righteousness that it would be just as well if they did not
+ever pass my lips. But there have come to me one or two times, dear,
+when I dared a little of the labor of things, and drank a drop or
+two of the wine of the spirit; and those times have lived to haunt
+me and make me at least not a happy man in my unearned ease. There
+come to me still just once in a while hours when I get sight of the
+gleam, hours that make me loathe all that in my hours of comfort I
+loved; and there comes over me then a kind of Titanic rage, that I
+should go down a beaten soul because I have not the iron strength of
+will to lash my own self to life, and tear out of my own heart a
+little of what power is in it. At such times, Helen, I find just
+this one wish in my mind,--that God would send to me, cost what it
+might, some of the fearful experience that rouses a man's soul
+within him, and makes him live his life in spite of all his dullness
+and his fear.”
+
+David had not finished, but he halted, because he saw a strange look
+upon the girl's face. She did not answer him at once, but sat gazing
+at him; and then she said in a very grave voice, “David, I do not
+like to hear such words as that from you.”
+
+“What words, dearest?”
+
+“Do you mean actually that it sometimes seems to you wrong to live
+happily with me as you have?”
+
+David laid his hand quietly upon hers, watching for a minute her
+anxious countenance. Then he said in a low voice: “You ought not to
+ask me about such things, dear, or blame me for them. Sometimes I
+have to face the very cruel thought that I ought not ever to have
+linked my fate to one so sweet and gentle as you, because what I
+ought to be doing in the world to win a right conscience is
+something so hard and so stern that it would mean that I could never
+be really happy all my life.”
+
+David was about to go on, but he stopped again because of Helen's
+look of displeasure. “David,” she whispered, “that is the most
+unloving thing that I have ever heard from you!”
+
+“And you must blame me, dear, because of it?” he asked.
+
+“I suppose,” Helen answered, “that you would misunderstand me as
+long as I chose to let you. Do you not suppose that I too have a
+conscience,--do you suppose that I want any happiness it is wrong
+for us to take, or that I would not dare to go anywhere that your
+duty took you? And do you suppose that anything could be so painful
+to me as to know that you do not trust me, that you are afraid to
+live your life, and do what is your duty, before me?”
+
+David bent down suddenly and pressed a kiss upon the girl's
+forehead. “Precious little heart,” he whispered, “those words are
+very beautiful.”
+
+“I did not say them because they were beautiful,” answered Helen
+gravely; “I said them because I meant them, and because I wanted you
+to take them in earnest. I want to know what it is that you and I
+ought to be doing, instead of enjoying our lives; and after you have
+told me what it is I can tell you one thing--that I shall not be
+happy again in my life until it is done.”
+
+David watched her thoughtfully a while before he answered, because
+he saw that she was very much in earnest. Then he said sadly,
+“Dearest Helen, perhaps the reason that I have never been able all
+through my life to satisfy my soul is the pitiful fact that I have
+not the strength to dare any of the work of other men; I have had
+always to chafe under the fact that I must choose between nourishing
+my poor body, or ceasing to live. I have learned that all my
+power--and more too, as it sometimes seemed,--was needed to bear
+bravely the dreadful trials that God has sent to me.”
+
+Helen paled slightly; she felt his hand trembling upon hers, and she
+remembered his illness at her aunt's, about which she had never had
+the courage to speak to him. “And so, dear heart,” he went on
+slowly, “let us only be sure that we are keeping our lives pure and
+strong, that we are living in the presence of high thoughts and
+keeping the mastery of ourselves, and saying and really meaning that
+we live for something unselfish; so that if duty and danger come, we
+shall not prove cowards, and if suffering comes we should not give
+way and lose our faith. Does that please you, dear Helen?”
+
+The girl pressed his hand silently in hers. After a while he went on
+still more solemnly: “Some time,” he said, “I meant to talk to you
+about just that, dearest, to tell you how stern and how watchful we
+ought to be. It is very sad to me to see what happens when the great
+and fearful realities of life disclose themselves to good and kind
+people who have been living without any thought of such things. I
+feel that it is very wrong to live so, that if we wished to be right
+we would hold the high truths before us, no matter how much labor it
+cost.”
+
+“What truths do you mean?” asked Helen earnestly; and he answered
+her: “For one, the very fearful fact of which I have just been
+talking--that you and I are two bubbles that meet for an instant
+upon the whirling stream of time. Suppose, sweetheart, that I were
+to tell you that I do not think you and I would be living our lives
+truly, until we were quite sure that we could bear to be parted
+forever without losing our faith in God's righteousness?”
+
+Helen turned quite white, and clutched the other's hands in hers;
+she had not once thought of actually applying what he had said to
+her. “David! David!” she cried, “No!”
+
+The man smiled gently as he brushed back the hair from her forehead
+and gazed into her eyes. “And when you asked for sternness, dear,”
+ he said, “was it that you did not know what the word meant? Life is
+real, dear Helen, and the effort it demands is real effort.”
+
+The girl did not half hear these last words; she was still staring
+at her husband. “Listen to me, David,” she said at last, still
+holding his hand tightly in hers, her voice almost a whisper; “I
+could bear anything for you, David, I know that I could bear
+_anything_; I could really die for you, I say that with all my
+soul,--that was what I was thinking of when you spoke of death. But
+David, if you were to be taken from me,--if you were to be taken
+from me--” and she stopped, unable to find a word more.
+
+“Perhaps it will be just as well not to tell me, dear heart,” he
+said to her, gently.
+
+“David,” she went on more strenuously yet, “listen to me--you must
+not ever ask me to think of that! Do you hear me? For, oh, it cannot
+be true, it cannot be true, David, that you could be taken from me
+forever! What would I have left to live for?”
+
+“Would you not have the great wonderful God?” asked the other
+gently--“the God who made me and all that was lovable in me, and
+made you, and would demand that you worship him?” But Helen only
+shook her head once more and answered, “It could not be true,
+David,--no, no!” Then she added in a faint voice, “What would be the
+use of my having lived?”
+
+The man bent forward and kissed her again, and kissed away a little
+of the frightened, anxious look upon her face. “My dear,” he said
+with a gentle smile, “perhaps I was wrong to trouble you with such
+fearful things after all. Let me tell you instead a thought that
+once came to my mind, and that has stayed there as the one I should
+like to call the most beautiful of all my life; it may help to
+answer that question of yours about the use of having lived. Men
+love life so much, Helen dear, that they cannot ever have enough of
+it, and to keep it and build it up they make what we call the arts;
+this thought of mine is about one of them, about music, the art that
+you and I love most. For all the others have been derived from
+things external, but music was made out of nothing, and exists but
+for its one great purpose, and therefore is the most spiritual of
+all of them. I like to say that it is time made beautiful, and so a
+shadow picture of the soul; it is this, because it can picture
+different degrees of speed and of power, because it can breathe and
+throb, can sweep and soar, can yearn and pray,--because, in short,
+everything that happens in the heart can happen in music, so that we
+may lose ourselves in it and actually live its life, or so that a
+great genius can not merely tell us about himself, but can make all
+the best hours of his soul actually a part of our own. This thought
+that I said was beautiful came to me from noticing how perfectly the
+art was one with that which it represented; so that we may say not
+only that music is life, but that life is music. Music exists
+because it is beautiful, dear Helen, and because it brings an
+instant of the joy of beauty to our hearts, and for no other reason
+whatever; it may be music of happiness or of sorrow, of achievement
+or only of hope, but so long as it is beautiful it is right, and it
+makes no difference, either, that it cost much labor of men, or that
+when it is gone it is gone forever. And dearest, suppose that the
+music not only was beautiful, but knew that it was beautiful; that
+it was not only the motion of the air, but also the joy of our
+hearts; might it not then be its own excuse, just one strain of it
+that rose in the darkness, and quivered and died away again
+forever?”
+
+When David had spoken thus he stopped and sat still for a while,
+gazing at his wife; then seeing the anxious look still in possession
+of her face, he rose suddenly by way of ending their talk.
+“Dearest,” he said, smiling, “it is wrong of me, perhaps, to worry
+you about such very fearful things as those; let us go in, and find
+something to do that is useful, and not trouble ourselves with them
+any more.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+  “O Freude, habe Acht!
+    Sprich leise,
+  Dass nicht der Schmerz erwacht!”
+
+It was late on the afternoon of the day that Helen's father had left
+for home, and David was going into the village with some letters to
+mail. Helen was not feeling very well herself and could not go, but
+she insisted upon his going, for she watched over his exercise and
+other matters of health with scrupulous care. She had wrapped him up
+in a heavy overcoat, and was kneeling beside his chair with her arms
+about him.
+
+“Tell me, dear,” she asked him, for the third or fourth time, “are
+you sure this will be enough to keep you warm?--for the nights are
+so very cold, you know; I do not like you to come back alone
+anyway.”
+
+“I don't think you would be much of a protection against danger,”
+ laughed David.
+
+“But it will be dark when you get back, dear.”
+
+“It will only be about dusk,” was the reply; “I don't mind that.”
+
+Helen gazed at him wistfully for a minute, and then she went on: “Do
+you not know what is the matter with me, David? You frightened me
+to-day, and I cannot forget what you said. Each time that it comes
+to my mind it makes me shudder. Why should you say such fearful
+things to me?”
+
+“I am very sorry,” said the other, gently.
+
+“You simply must not talk to me so!” cried the girl; “if you do you
+will make me so that I cannot bear to leave you for an instant. For
+those thoughts make my love for you simply desperate, David; I cry
+out to myself that I never have loved you enough, never told you
+enough!” And then she added pleadingly, “But oh, you know that I
+love you, do you not, dear? Tell me.”
+
+“Yes, I know it,” said the other gently, taking her in his arms and
+kissing her.
+
+“Come back soon,” Helen went on, “and I will tell you once more how
+much I do; and then we can be happy again, and I won't be afraid any
+more. Please let me be happy, won't you, David?”
+
+“Yes, love, I will,” said the man with a smile. “I do not think that
+I was wise ever to trouble you.”
+
+Helen was silent for a while, then as a sudden thought occurred to
+her she added: “David, I meant to tell you something--do you know if
+those horrible thoughts keep haunting me, it is just this that they
+will make me do; you said that God was very good, and so I was
+thinking that I would show him how very much I love you, how I could
+really never get along without you, and how I care for nothing else
+in the world. It seems to me to be such a little thing, that we
+should only just want to love; and truly, that is all I do want,--I
+would not mind anything else in the world,--I would go away from
+this little house and live in any poor place, and do all the work,
+and never care about anything else at all, if I just might have you.
+That is really true, David, and I wish that you would know it, and
+that God would know it, and not expect me to think of such dreadful
+things as you talk of.”
+
+As David gazed into her deep, earnest eyes he pressed her to him
+with a sudden burst of emotion. “You have me now, dearest,” he
+whispered, “and oh, I shall trust the God who gave me this precious
+heart!”--He kissed her once more in fervent love, and kissed her
+again and again until the clouds had left her face. She leaned back
+and gazed at him, and was radiant with delight again. “Oh--oh--oh!”
+ she cried. “David, it only makes me more full of wonder at the real
+truth! For it is the truth, David, it is the truth--that you are all
+mine! It is so wonderful, and it makes me so happy,--I seem to lose
+myself more in the thought every day!”
+
+“You can never lose yourself too much, little sweetheart,” David
+whispered; “let us trust to love, and let it grow all that it will.
+Helen, I never knew what it was to live until I met you,--never knew
+how life could be so full and rich and happy. And never, never will
+I be able to tell you how much I love you, dearest soul.”
+
+“Oh, but I believe you without being told!” she said, laughing. “Do
+you know, I could make myself quite mad just with saying over to
+myself that you love me all that I could ever wish you to love me,
+all that I could imagine you loving me! Isn't that true, David?”
+
+“Yes, that is true,” the man replied.
+
+“But you don't know what a wonderful imagination I have,” laughed
+the girl, “and how hungry for your love I am.” And she clasped him
+to her passionately and cried, “David, you can make me too happy to
+live with that thought! I shall have to think about it all the time
+that you are gone, and when you come back I shall be so wonderfully
+excited,--oh--oh, David!”
+
+Then she laughed eagerly and sprang up. “You must not stay any
+longer,” she exclaimed, “because it is getting late; only hurry
+back, because I can do nothing but wait for you.” And so she led him
+to the door, and kissed him again, and then watched him as he
+started up the road. He turned and looked at her, as she leaned
+against the railing of the porch, with the glory of the sunset
+falling upon her hair; she made a radiant picture, for her cheeks
+were still flushed, and her bosom still heaving with the glory of
+the thought she had promised to keep. There was so much of her love
+in the look which she kept upon David that it took some resolution
+to go on and leave her.
+
+As for Helen, she watched him until he had quite disappeared in the
+forest, after which she turned and gazed across the lake at the gold
+and crimson mountains. But all the time she was still thinking the
+thought of David's love; the wonder of it was still upon her face,
+and it seemed to lift her form; until at last she stretched wide her
+arms, and leaned back her head, and drank a deep draft of the
+evening air, whispering aloud, “Oh, I do not dare to be as happy as
+I can!” And she clasped her arms upon her bosom and laughed a wild
+laugh of joy.
+
+Later on, because it was cold, she turned and went into the house,
+singing a song to herself as she moved. As she went to the piano and
+sat down she saw upon the rack the little springtime song of Grieg's
+that was the first thing she had ever heard upon David's violin; she
+played a few bars of it to herself, and then she stopped and sat
+still, lost in the memory which it brought to her mind of the night
+when she had sat at the window and listened to it, just after seeing
+Arthur for the last time. “And to think that it was only four or
+five months ago!” she whispered to herself. “And how wretched I
+was!”
+
+“I do not believe I could ever be so unhappy again,” she went on
+after a while, “I know that I could not, while I have David!” after
+which her thoughts came back into the old, old course of joy. When
+she looked at the music again the memory of her grief was gone, and
+she read in it all of her own love-glory. She played it through
+again, and afterwards sat quite still, until the twilight had begun
+to gather in the room.
+
+Helen then rose and lit the lamp, and the fire in the open
+fire-place; she glanced at the clock and saw that more than a
+quarter of an hour had passed, and she said to herself that it could
+not be more than that time again before David was back.
+
+“I should go out and meet him if I were feeling quite strong,” she
+added as she went to the door and looked out; then she exclaimed
+suddenly: “But oh, I know how I can please him better!” And the girl
+went to the table where some of her books were lying, and sat down
+and began very diligently studying, glancing every half minute at
+the clock and at the door. “I shall be too busy even to hear him!”
+ she said, with a sudden burst of glee; and quite delighted with the
+effect that would produce she listened eagerly every time she
+fancied she heard a step, and then fixed her eyes upon the book, and
+put on a look of most complete absorption.
+
+Unfortunately for Helen's plan, however, each time it proved to be a
+false alarm; and so the fifteen minutes passed completely, and then
+five, and five again. The girl had quite given up studying by that
+time, and was gazing at the clock, and listening to its ticking, and
+wondering very much indeed. At last when more than three-quarters of
+an hour had passed since David had left, she got up and went to the
+door once more to listen; as she did not hear anything she went out
+on the piazza, and finally to the road. All about her was veiled in
+shadow, which her eyes strove in vain to pierce; and so growing
+still more impatient she raised her voice and called, “David,
+David!” and then stood and listened to the rustling of the leaves
+and the faint lapping of the water on the shore.
+
+“That is very strange,” Helen thought, growing very anxious indeed;
+“it is fearfully strange! What in the world can have happened?” And
+she called again, with no more result that before; until with a
+sudden resolution she turned and passed quickly into the house, and
+flinging a wrap about her, came out and started down the road.
+Occasionally she raised her voice and shouted David's name, but
+still she got no reply, and her anxiety soon changed into alarm, and
+she was hurrying along, almost in a run. In this way she climbed the
+long ascent which the road made from the lake shore; and when she
+had reached the top of it she gathered her breath and shouted once
+more, louder and more excitedly than ever.
+
+This time she heard the expected reply, and found that David was
+only a few rods ahead of her. “What is the matter?” she called to
+him, and as he answered that it was nothing, but to come to him, she
+ran on more alarmed than ever.
+
+There was just light enough for her to see that David was bending
+down; and then as she got very near she saw that on the ground in
+front of him was lying a dark, shadowy form. As Helen cried out
+again to know what was the matter, her husband said, “Do not be
+frightened, dear; it is only some poor woman that I have found here
+by the roadside.”
+
+“A woman!” the girl echoed in wonder, at the same time giving a gasp
+of relief at the discovery that her husband was not in trouble.
+“Where in the world can she have come from, David?”
+
+“I do not know,” he answered, “but she probably wandered off the
+main road. It is some poor, wretched creature, Helen; she has been
+drinking, and is quite helpless.”
+
+And Helen stood still in horror, while David arose and came to her.
+“You are out of breath, dear,” he exclaimed, “why did you come so
+fast?”
+
+“Oh, I was so frightened!” the girl panted. “I cannot tell you,
+David, what happens in my heart whenever I think of your coming to
+any harm. It was dreadful, for I knew something serious must be the
+matter.”
+
+David put his arm about her and kissed her to quiet her fears; then
+he said, “You ought not to have come out, dear; but be calm now, for
+there is nothing to worry you, only we must take care of this poor
+woman. It is such a sad sight, Helen; I wish that you had not come
+here.”
+
+“What were you going to do?” asked the girl, forgetting herself
+quickly in her sympathy.
+
+“I meant to come down and tell you,” was David's reply; “and then go
+back to town and get someone to come and take her away.”
+
+“But, David, you can never get back over that rough road in the
+darkness!” exclaimed Helen in alarm; “it is too far for you to walk,
+even in the daytime--I will not let you do it, you must not!”
+
+“But dear, this poor creature cannot be left here; it will be a
+bitter cold night, and she might die.”
+
+Helen was silent for a moment in thought, and then she said in a
+low, trembling voice: “David, there is only one thing to do.”
+
+“What is that, dear?” asked the other.
+
+“We will have to take her home with us.”
+
+“Do you know what you are saying?” asked the other with a start;
+“that would be a fearful thing to do, Helen.”
+
+“I cannot help it,” she replied, “it is the only thing. And it would
+be wicked not to be willing to do that, because she is a woman.”
+
+“She is in a fearful way, dear,” said the other, hesitatingly; “and
+to ask you to take care of her--”
+
+“I would do anything sooner than let you take that walk in such
+darkness as this!” was the girl's reply; and with that statement she
+silenced all of his objections.
+
+And so at last David pressed her hand, and whispered, “Very well,
+dear, God will bless you for it.” Then for a while the two stood in
+silence, until Helen asked, “Do you think that we can carry her,
+poor creature?”
+
+“We may try it,” the other replied; and Helen went and knelt by the
+prostrate figure. The woman was muttering to herself, but she seemed
+to be quite dazed, and not to know what was going on about her.
+Helen did not hesitate any longer, but bent over and strove to lift
+her; the woman was fortunately of a slight build, and seemed to be
+very thin, so that with David's help it was easy to raise her to her
+feet. It was a fearful task none the less, for the poor wretch was
+foul with the mud in which she had been lying, and her wet hair was
+streaming over her shoulders; as Helen strove to lift her up the
+head sunk over upon her, but the girl bit her lips together grimly.
+She put her arm about the woman's waist, and David did the same on
+the other side, and so the three started, stumbling slowly along in
+the darkness.
+
+“Are you sure that it is not too much for you?” David asked; “we can
+stop whenever you like, Helen.”
+
+“No, let us go on,” the girl said; “she has almost no weight, and we
+must not leave her out here in the cold. Her hands are almost frozen
+now.”
+
+They soon made their way on down to where the lights of the little
+cottage shone through the trees. David could not but shrink back as
+he thought of taking their wretched burden into their little home,
+but he heard the woman groan feebly, and he was ashamed of his
+thought. Nothing more was said until they had climbed the steps, not
+without difficulty, and had deposited their burden upon the floor of
+the sitting room; after which David rose and sank back into a chair,
+for the strain had been a heavy one for him.
+
+Helen also sprang up as she gazed at the figure; the woman was foul
+with every misery that disease and sin can bring upon a human
+creature, her clothing torn to shreds and her face swollen and
+stained. She was half delirious, and clawing about her with her
+shrunken, quivering hands, so that Helen exclaimed in horror: “Oh
+God, that is the most dreadful sight I have ever seen in my life!”
+
+“Come away,” said the other, raising himself from the chair; “it is
+not right that you should look at such things.”
+
+But with Helen it was only a moment before her pity had overcome
+every other emotion; she knelt down by the stranger and took one of
+the cold hands and began chafing it. “Poor, poor woman!” she
+exclaimed; “oh, what misery you must have suffered! David, what can
+a woman do to be punished like this? It is fearful!”
+
+It was a strange picture which the two made at that moment, the
+woman in her cruel misery, and the girl in her pure and noble
+beauty. But Helen had no more thought of shrinking, for all her soul
+had gone out to the unfortunate stranger, and she kept on trying to
+bring her back to consciousness. “Oh, David,” she said, “what can we
+do to help her? It is too much that any human being should be like
+this,--she would have died if we had not found her.” And then as the
+other opened her eyes and struggled to lift herself, Helen caught an
+incoherent word and said, “I think she is thirsty, David; get some
+water and perhaps that will help her. We must find some way to
+comfort her, for this is too horrible to be. And perhaps it is not
+her fault, you know,--who knows but perhaps some man may have been
+the cause of it all? Is it not dreadful to think of, David?”
+
+So the girl went on; her back was turned to her husband, and she was
+engrossed in her task of mercy, and did not see what he was doing.
+She did not see that he had started forward in his chair and was
+staring at the woman; she did not see him leaning forward, farther
+and farther, with a strange look upon his face. But there was
+something she did see at last, as the woman lifted herself again and
+stared first at Helen's own pitying face, and then vaguely about the
+room, and last of all gazing at David. Suddenly she stretched out
+her arms to him and strove to rise, with a wild cry that made Helen
+leap back in consternation:--“David! It's David!”
+
+And at the same instant David sprang up with what was almost a
+scream of horror; he reeled and staggered backwards against the
+wall, clutching with his hands at his forehead, his face a ghastly,
+ashen gray; and as Helen sprang up and ran towards him, he sank down
+upon his knees with a moan, gazing up into the air with a look of
+agony upon his face. “My God! My God!” he gasped; “it is my Mary!”
+
+And Helen sank down beside him, clutching him by the arm, and
+staring at him in terror. “David, David!” she whispered, in a hoarse
+voice. But the man seemed not to hear her, so overwhelmed was he by
+his own emotion. “It is Mary,” he cried out again,--“it is my
+Mary!--oh God, have mercy upon my soul!” And then a shudder passed
+over him, and he buried his face in his arms and fell down upon the
+floor, with Helen, almost paralyzed with fright, still clinging to
+him.
+
+In the meantime the woman had still been stretching out her
+trembling arms to him, crying his name again and again; as she sank
+back exhausted the man started up and rushed toward her, clutching
+her by the hand, and exclaiming frantically, “Mary, Mary, it is
+I--speak to me!” But the other's delirium seemed to have returned,
+and she only stared at him blankly. At last David staggered to his
+feet and began pacing wildly up and down, hiding his face in his
+hands, and crying helplessly, “Oh, God, that this should come to me
+now! Oh, how can I bear it--oh, Mary, Mary!”
+
+He sank down upon the sofa again and burst into fearful sobbing;
+Helen, who had still been kneeling where he left her, rushed toward
+him and flung her arms about him, crying out, “David, David, what is
+the matter? David, you will kill me; what is it?”
+
+And he started and stared at her wildly, clutching her arm. “Helen,”
+ he gasped, “listen to me! I ruined that woman! Do you hear me?--do
+you hear me? It was I who betrayed her--I who made her what she is!
+_I--I!_ Oh, leave me,--leave me alone--oh, what can I do?”
+
+Then as the girl still clung to him, sobbing his name in terror, the
+man went on, half beside himself with his grief, “Oh, think of
+it--oh, how can I bear to know it and live? Twenty-three years
+ago,--and it comes back to curse me now! And all these years I have been
+living and forgetting it--and been happy, and talking of my
+goodness--oh God, and this fearful madness upon the earth! And I
+made it--I--and _she_ has had to pay for it! Oh, look at her,
+Helen, look at her--think that that foulness is mine! She was
+beautiful,--she was pure,--and she might have been happy, she would
+have been good, but for me! Oh God in heaven, where can I hide
+myself, what can I do?”
+
+Helen was still clutching at his arm, crying to him, “David, spare
+me!” He flung her off in a mad frenzy, holding her at arm's length,
+and staring at her with a fearful light in his eyes. “Girl, girl!”
+ he cried, “do you know who I am--do you know what I have done? This
+girl was like you once, and I made her love me--made her love me
+with the sacred fire that God had given me, made her love me as I
+made _you_ love me! And she was beautiful like you--she was younger
+than you, and as happy as you! And she trusted me as you trusted me,
+she gave herself to me as you did, and I took her, and promised her
+my love--and now look at her! Can you wish to be near me, can you
+wish to see me? Oh, Helen, I cannot bear myself--oh, leave me, I
+must die!”
+
+He sank down once more, weeping, all his form shaking with his
+grief; Helen flung her arms about his neck again, but the man seemed
+to forget her presence. “Oh, think where that woman has been,” he
+moaned; “think what she has seen, and done, and suffered--and what
+she is! Was there ever such a wreck of womanhood, ever such a curse
+upon earth? And, oh, for the years that she has lived in her fearful
+sin, and I have been happy--great God, what can I do for those
+years,--how can I live and gaze upon this crime of mine? I, who
+sought for beauty, to have made this madness; and it comes now to
+curse me, now, when it is too late; when the life is wrecked,--when
+it is gone forever!”
+
+David's voice had sunk into a moan; and then suddenly he heard the
+woman crying out, and he staggered to his feet. She was sitting up
+again, her arms stretched out; David caught her in his own, gazing
+into her face and crying, “Mary, Mary! Look at me! Here I am--I am
+David, the David you loved.”
+
+He stopped, gasping for breath, and the woman cried in a faint
+voice, “Water, water!” David turned and called to Helen, and the
+poor girl, tho scarcely able to stand, ran to get a glass of it;
+another thought came to the man in the meantime, and he turned to
+the other with a sudden cry. “If there were a child!” he gasped, “a
+child of mine somewhere in the world, alone and helpless!” He stared
+into the woman's eyes imploringly.
+
+She was gazing at him, choking and trying to speak; she seemed to be
+making an effort to understand him, and as David repeated his
+agonizing question she gave a sign of assent, causing a still wilder
+look to cross the man's face. He called to her again to tell him
+where; but the woman seemed to be sinking back into her raving, and
+she only gasped faintly again for water.
+
+When Helen brought it they poured it down her throat, and then David
+repeated his question once more; but he gave a groan as he saw that
+it was all in vain; the wild raving had begun again, and the woman
+only stared at him blankly, until at last the wretched man, quite
+overcome, sank down at her side and buried his head upon her
+shrunken bosom and cried like a child, poor Helen in the meantime
+clinging to him still.
+
+It was only when David had quite worn himself out that he seemed to
+hear her pleading voice; then he looked at her, and for the first
+time through his own grief caught sight of hers. There was such a
+look of helpless woe upon Helen's face that he put out his hand to
+her and whispered faintly, “Oh, poor little girl, what have _you_
+done that you should suffer so?” As Helen drew closer to him,
+clinging to his hand in fright, he went on, “Can you ever forgive me
+for this horror--forgive me that I dared to forget it, that I dared
+to marry you?”
+
+The girl's answer was a faint moan, “David, David, have mercy on
+me!” He gazed at her for a moment, reading still more of her
+suffering.
+
+“Helen,” he asked, “you see what has come upon me--can you ask me
+not to be wretched, can you ask me still to live? What can I do for
+such a crime,--when I look at this wreck of a soul, what comfort can
+I hope to find?” And the girl, her heart bursting with grief, could
+only clasp his hands in hers and gaze into his eyes; there was no
+word she could think of to say to him, and so for a long time the
+two remained in silence, David again fixing his eyes upon the woman,
+who seemed to be sinking into a kind of stupor.
+
+When he looked up once more it was because Helen was whispering in
+his ear, a new thought having come to her, “David, perhaps _I_ might
+be able to help you yet.”
+
+The man replied in a faint, gasping voice, “Help me? How?” And the
+girl answered, “Come with me,” and rose weakly to her feet, half
+lifting him also. He gazed at the woman and saw that she was lying
+still, and then he did as Helen asked. She led him gently into the
+other room, away from the fearful sight, and the two sat down, David
+limp and helpless, so that he could only sink down in her arms with
+a groan. “Poor, poor David,” she whispered, in a voice of infinite
+pity; “oh, my poor David!”
+
+“Then you do not scorn me, Helen?” the man asked in a faint,
+trembling voice, and went on pleading with her, in words so abject
+and so wretched that they wrung the girl's heart more than ever.
+
+“David, how can you speak to me so?” she cried, “you who are all my
+life?” And then she added with swift intensity, “Listen to me,
+David, it cannot be so bad as that, I know it! Will you not tell me,
+David? Tell me all, so that I may help you!” So she went on pleading
+with him gently, until at last the man spoke again, in faltering
+words.
+
+“Helen,” he said, “I was only a boy; God knows that is one excuse,
+if it is the only one. I was only seventeen, and she was no more.”
+
+“Who was she, David?” the girl asked.
+
+“She lived in a village across the mountains from here, near where
+our home used to be. She was a farmer's daughter, and she was
+beautiful--oh, to think that that woman was once a beautiful girl,
+and innocent and pure! But we were young, we loved each other, and
+we had no one to warn us; it was so long ago that it seems like a
+dream to me now, but we sinned, and I took her for mine; then I went
+home to tell my father, to tell him that she was my wife, and that I
+must marry her. And oh, God, she was a farmer's daughter, and I was
+a rich man's son, and the cursed world knows nothing of human souls!
+And I must not marry her--I found all the world in arms against
+it---”
+
+“And you let yourself be persuaded?” asked the girl, in a faint
+whisper.
+
+“Persuaded?” echoed David, his voice shaking; “who would have
+thought of persuading a mad boy? I let myself be commanded and
+frightened into submission, and carried away. And then five or six
+miserable months passed away and I got a letter from her, and she
+was with child, and she was ruined forever,--she prayed to me in
+words that have haunted me night and day all my life, to come to her
+and keep my promise.”
+
+And David stopped and gave a groan; the other whispered, “You could
+not go?”
+
+“I went,” he answered; “I borrowed money, begged it from one of my
+father's servants, and ran away and went up there; and oh, I was two
+days too late!”
+
+“Too late?” exclaimed Helen wonderingly.
+
+“Yes, yes,” was the hoarse reply, “for she was a weak and helpless
+girl, and scorned of all the world; and her parents had turned her
+away, and she was gone, no one knew where. Helen, from that day to
+this I have never seen her, nor ever heard of her; and now she comes
+to curse me,--to curse my soul forever. And it is more than I can
+bear, more than I can bear!”
+
+David sank down again, crying out, “It is too much, it is too much!”
+ But then suddenly he caught his wife's hand in his and stared up at
+her, exclaiming, “And she said there was a child, Helen! Somewhere
+in the world there is another soul suffering for this sin of mine!
+Oh, somehow we must find out about that--something must be done, I
+could not have two such fearful things to know of. We must find out,
+we must find out!”
+
+As the man stopped and stared wildly about him he heard the woman's
+voice again, and sprang up; but Helen, terrified at his suffering,
+caught him by the arm, whispering, “No, no, David, let me go in, I
+can take care of her.” And she forced her husband down on the sofa
+once more, and then ran into the next room. She found the woman
+again struggling to raise herself upon her trembling arms, staring
+about her and calling out incoherently. Helen rushed to her and took
+her hands in hers, trying to soothe her again.
+
+But the woman staggered to her feet, oblivious of everything about
+her. “Where is he? Where is he?” she gasped hoarsely; “he will come
+back!” She began calling David's name, and a moment later, as Helen
+tried to keep her quiet, she tore her hands loose and rushed blindly
+across the room, shrieking louder yet, “David, where are you? Don't
+you know me, David?”
+
+As Helen turned she saw that her husband had heard the cries and
+come to the doorway again; but it was all in vain, for the woman,
+though she looked at him, knew him no more; it was to a phantom of
+her own brain that she was calling, in the meantime pacing up and
+down, her voice rising higher and higher. She was reeling this way
+and that, and Helen, frightened at her violence, strove to restrain
+her, only to be flung off as if she had been a child; the woman
+rushed on, groping about her blindly and crying still, “David! Tell
+me where is David!”
+
+Then as David and Helen stood watching her in helpless misery her
+delirious mood changed, and she clutched her hands over her bosom,
+and shuddered, and moaned to herself, “It is cold, oh, it is cold!”
+ Afterwards she burst into frantic sobbing, that choked her and shook
+all her frame; and again into wild peals of laughter; and then last
+of all she stopped and sprang back, staring in front of her with her
+whole face a picture of agonizing fright; she gave one wild scream
+after another and staggered and sank down at last upon the floor.
+“Oh, it is he, it is he!” she cried, her voice sinking into a
+shudder; “oh, spare me,--why should you beat me? Oh God, have
+mercy--have mercy!” Her cries rose again into a shriek that made
+Helen's blood run cold; she looked in terror at her husband, and saw
+that his face was white; in the meantime the wretched woman had
+flung herself down prostrate upon the floor, where she lay groveling
+and writhing.
+
+That again, however, was only for a minute or two; she staggered up
+once more and rushed blindly across the room, crying, “I cannot bear
+it, I cannot bear it! Oh, what have I done?” Then suddenly as she
+flung up her arms imploringly and staggered blindly on, she lurched
+forward and fell, striking her head against the corner of the table.
+
+Helen started forward with a cry of alarm, but before she had taken
+half a dozen steps the woman had raised herself to her feet once
+more, and was staring at her, blinded by the blood which poured from
+a cut in her forehead. Her clothing was torn half from her, and her
+tangled hair streamed from her shoulders; she was a ghastly sight to
+behold, as, delirious with terror, she began once more rushing this
+way and that about the room. The two who watched her were powerless
+to help her, and could only drink in the horror of it all and
+shudder, as with each minute the poor creature became more frantic
+and more desperate. All the while it was evident that her strength
+was fast leaving her; she staggered more and more, and at last she
+sank down upon her knees. She strove to rise again and found that
+she could not, but lurched and fell upon the floor; as she turned
+over and Helen saw her face, the sight was too much for the girl's
+self-control, and she buried her face in her hands and broke into
+frantic sobbing.
+
+David in the meantime was crouching in the doorway, his gaze fixed
+upon the woman; he did not seem even to notice Helen's outburst, so
+lost was all his soul in the other sight. Fie saw that the
+stranger's convulsive efforts were weakening, and he staggered
+forward with a cry, and flung himself forward down on his knees
+beside her. “Mary, Mary!” he called; but she did not heed him, tho
+he clasped her hands and shook her, gazing into her face
+imploringly. Her eyes were fixed upon him, but it was with a vacant
+stare; and then suddenly he started back with a cry of
+horror--“Great God, she is dying!”
+
+The woman made a sudden fearful effort to lift herself, struggling
+and gasping, her face distorted with fierce agony; as it failed she
+sank back, and lay panting hard for breath; then a shudder passed
+over her, and while David still stared, transfixed, a hoarse rattle
+came from her throat, and her features became suddenly set in their
+dreadful passion. In a moment more all was still; and David buried
+his face in his hands and sank down upon the corpse, without even a
+moan.
+
+Afterwards, for a full minute there was not a sound in the room;
+Helen's sobbing had ceased, she had looked up and sat staring at the
+two figures,--until at last, with a sudden start of fright she
+sprang up and crept silently toward them. She glanced once at the
+woman's body, and then bent over David; as she felt that his heart
+was still beating, she caught him to her bosom, and knelt thus in
+terror, staring first into his white and tortured features, and then
+at the body on the floor.
+
+Finally, however, she nerved herself, and tho she was trembling and
+exhausted, staggered to her feet with her burden; holding it tightly
+in her arms she went step by step, slowly and in silence out of the
+room. When she had passed into the next one she shut the door and,
+sinking down upon the sofa, lifted David's broken figure beside her
+and locked it in her arms and was still. Thus she sat without a
+sound or a motion, her heart within her torn with fear and pain, all
+through the long hours of that night; when the cold, white dawn came
+up, she was still pressing him to her bosom, sobbing and whispering
+faintly, “Oh, David! Oh, my poor, poor David!”
+
+  Hast du im Venusburg geweilt, So bist nun
+  ewig du verdammt!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+“Then said I, 'Woe is me! For I am undone;... for mine
+eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts.'”
+
+David's servant drove out early upon the following morning to tell
+him of a strange woman who had been asking for him in the village;
+they sent the man back for a doctor, and it was found that the poor
+creature was really dead.
+
+They wished to take the body away, but David would not have it; and
+so, late in the afternoon, a grave was dug by the lake-shore near
+the little cottage, and what was left of Mary was buried there.
+David was too exhausted to leave the house, and Helen would not stir
+from his side, so the two sat in silence until the ceremony was
+over, and the men had gone. The servant went with them, because the
+girl said they wished to be alone; and then the house settled down
+to its usual quietness,--a quietness that frightened Helen now.
+
+For when she looked at her husband her heart scarcely beat for her
+terror; he was ghastly white, and his lips were trembling, and
+though he had not shed a tear all the day, there was a look of
+mournful despair on his face that told more fearfully than any words
+how utterly the soul within him was beaten and crushed. All that day
+he had been so, and as Helen remembered the man that had been before
+so strong and eager and brare, her whole soul stood still with awe;
+yet as before she could do nothing but cling to him, and gaze at him
+with bursting heart.
+
+But at last when the hours had passed and not a move had been made,
+she asked him faintly, “David, is there no hope? Is it to be like
+this always?”
+
+The man raised his eyes and gazed at her helplessly. “Helen,” he
+said, his voice sounding hollow and strange, “what can you ask of
+me? How can I bear to look about me again, how can I think of
+living? Oh, that night of horror! Helen, it burns my brain--it
+tortures my soul--it will drive me mad!” He buried his face in his
+hands again, shaking with emotion. “Oh, I cannot ever forget it,” he
+whispered hoarsely; “it must haunt me, haunt me until I die! I must
+know that after all my years of struggle it was this that I made, it
+is this that stands for my life--and it is over, and gone from me
+forever and finished! Oh, God, was there ever such a horror flashed
+upon a guilty soul--ever such fiendish torture for a man to bear?
+And Helen, there was a child, too--think how that thought must goad
+me--a child of mine, and I cannot ever aid it--it must suffer for
+its mother's shame. And think, if it were a woman, Helen--this
+madness must go on, and go on forever! Oh, where am I to hide me;
+and what can I do?”
+
+There came no tears, but only a fearful sobbing; poor Helen
+whispered frantically, “David, it was not your fault, you could not
+help it--surely you cannot be to blame for all this.”
+
+He did not answer her, but after a long silence he went on in a
+deep, low voice, “Helen, she was so beautiful! She has lived in my
+thoughts all these years as the figure that I used to see, so bright
+and so happy; I used to hear her singing in church, and the music
+was a kind of madness to me, because I knew that she loved me. And
+her home was a little farm-house, half buried in great trees, and I
+used to see her there with her flowers. Now--oh, think of her
+now--think of her life of shame and agony--think of her turned away
+from her home, and from all she loved in the world,--deserted and
+scorned, and helpless--think of her with child, and of the agony of
+her degradation! What must she not have suffered to be as she was
+last night--oh, are there tears enough in the world to pay for such
+a curse, for that twenty years' burden of wretchedness and sin? And
+she was beaten--oh, she was beaten--Mary, my poor, poor Mary! And to
+die in such horror, in drunkenness and madness! And now she is gone,
+and it is over; and oh, why should I live, what can I do?”
+
+His voice dropped into a moan, and then again there was a long
+silence. At last Helen whispered, in a weak, trembling voice,
+“David, you have still love; can that be nothing to you?”
+
+“I have no right to love,” he groaned, “no right to love, and I
+never had any. For oh, all my life this vision has haunted me--I
+knew that nothing but death could have saved her from shame! Yes,
+and I knew, too, that some day I must find her. I have carried the
+terror of that in my heart all these years. Yet I dared to take your
+love, and dared to fly from my sin; and then there comes this
+thunderbolt--oh, merciful heaven, it is too much to bear, too much
+to bear!” He sank down again; poor Helen could find no word of
+comfort, no utterance of her own bursting heart except the same
+frantic clasp of her love.
+
+So the day went by over that shattered life; and each hour the man's
+despair grew more black, his grief and misery more hopeless. The
+girl watched him and followed him about as if she had been a child,
+but she could get him to take no food, and to divert his mind to
+anything else she dared not even try. He would sit for hours
+writhing in his torment, and then again he would spring up and pace
+the room in agitation, though he was too weak to bear that very
+long. Afterwards the long night came on, and all through it he lay
+tossing and moaning, sometimes shuddering in a kind of paroxysm of
+grief,--Helen, though she was weary and almost fainting, watching
+thro the whole night, her heart wild with her dread.
+
+And so the morning came, and another day of misery; and in the midst
+of it David flung himself down upon the sofa and buried his face in
+his arms and cried out, “Oh God, my God, I cannot stand it, I cannot
+stand it! Oh, let me die! I dare not lift my head--there is no hope
+for me--there is no life for me--I dare not pray! It is more than I
+can bear--I am beaten, I am lost forever!” And Helen fell down upon
+her knees beside him, and tore away his hands from his face and
+stared at him frantically, exclaiming, “David, it is too cruel! Oh,
+have mercy upon me, David, if you love me!”
+
+He stopped and gazed long and earnestly into her face, and a look of
+infinite pity came into his eyes; at last he whispered, in a low
+voice, “Poor, poor little Helen; oh, Helen, God help you, what can I
+do?” He paused and afterwards went on tremblingly, “What have you
+done that you should suffer like this? You are right that it is too
+cruel--it is another curse that I have to bear! For I knew that I
+was born to suffering--I knew that my life was broken and dying--and
+yet I dared to take yours into it! And now, what can I do to save
+you, Helen; can you not see that I dare not live?”
+
+“David, it is you who are killing yourself,” the girl moaned in
+answer. He did not reply, but there came a long, long silence, in
+which he seemed to be sinking still deeper; and when he went on it
+was in a shuddering voice that made Helen's heart stop. “Oh, it is
+no use,” he gasped, “it is no use! Listen, Helen, there was another
+secret that I kept from you, because it was too fearful; but I can
+keep it no more, I can fight no more!”
+
+He stopped; the girl had clutched his arm, and was staring into his
+face, whispering his name hoarsely. At last he went on in his cruel
+despair, “I knew this years ago, too, and I knew that I was bringing
+it upon you--the misery of this wretched, dying body. Oh, it
+hurts--it hurts now!” And he put his hand over his heart, as a look
+of pain came into his face. “It cannot stand much more, my heart,”
+ he panted; “the time must come--they told me it would come years
+ago! And then--and then--”
+
+The man stopped, because he was looking at Helen; she had not made a
+sound, but her face had turned so white, and her lips were trembling
+so fearfully that he dared not go on; she gave a loud, choking cry
+and burst out wildly, “Oh, David--David--it is fiendish--you have
+no right to punish me so! Oh, have mercy upon me, for you are
+killing me! You have no right to do it, I tell you it is a crime;
+you promised me your love, and if you loved me you would live for my
+sake, you would think of me! A thing so cruel ought not to be--it
+cannot be right--God could never have meant a human soul to suffer
+so! And there must be pardon in the world, there must be light--it
+cannot all be torture like this!” She burst into a flood of tears
+and flung herself upon David's bosom, sobbing again and again, “Oh,
+no, no, it is too fearful, oh, save me, save me!”
+
+He did not answer her; as she looked up at him again she saw the
+same look of fearful woe, and read the cruel fact that there was no
+help, that her own grief and pleadings were only deepening the man's
+wretchedness. She stared at him for a long time; and when she spoke
+to him again it was with a sudden start, and in a strange, ghastly
+voice,--“And then, David, there is no God?”
+
+He trembled, but the words choked him as he tried to respond, and
+his head dropped; then at last she heard him moan, “Oh, how can God
+free my soul from this madness, how can he deliver me from such a
+curse?” Helen could say no more--could only cling to him and sob in
+her fright.
+
+So the day passed away, and another night came; and still the
+crushed and beaten soul was writhing in its misery, lost in
+blackness and despair; and still Helen read it all in his white and
+tortured features, and drank the full cup of his soul's fiery pain.
+
+They took no heed of the time; but it was long after darkness had
+fallen; and once when the girl had gone upstairs for a moment she
+heard David pacing about, and then heard a stifled cry. She rushed
+down, and stopped short in the doorway. For the man was upon his
+knees, his face uplifted in wild entreaty. “Oh God, oh merciful
+God!” he sobbed; “all the days of my life I have sought for
+righteousness, labored and suffered to keep my soul alive! And oh,
+was it all for this--was it to go down in blackness and night, to
+die a beaten man, crushed and lost? Oh, I cannot bear it, I cannot
+bear it! It cannot--it must not be!”
+
+He sank forward upon the sofa, and buried his head in his arms, and
+the girl could hear his breathing in the stillness; at last she
+crept across the room and knelt down beside him, and whispered
+softly in his ear, “You do not give me your heart any more, David?”
+
+It was a long time before he answered her, and then it was to moan,
+“Oh, Helen, my heart is broken, I can give it to no one. Once I had
+strength and faith, and could love; but now I am lost and ruined,
+and there is nothing that can save me. I dare not live, and I dare
+not die, and I know not where to turn!”
+
+He started up suddenly, clasping his hands to his forehead and
+staggering across the room, crying out, “Oh no, it cannot be, oh, it
+cannot be! There must be some way of finding pardon, some way of
+winning Tightness for a soul! Oh God, what can I do for peace?” But
+then again he sank down and hid his face and sobbed out: “In the
+face of this nightmare,--with this horror fronting me! _She_ cried
+for pardon, and none came.”
+
+After that there was a long silence, with Helen crouching in terror
+by his side. She heard him groan: “It is all over, it is finished--I
+can fight no more,” and then again came stillness, and when she
+lifted him and gazed into his face she knew not which was worse, the
+silent helpless despair that was upon it, or the torment and the
+suffering that had gone before. She tried still to soothe him,
+begging and pleading with him to have mercy upon her. He asked her
+faintly what he could do, and the poor girl, seeing how weak and
+exhausted he was, could think of only the things of the body, and
+begged him to try to rest. “It has been two nights since you have
+slept, David,” she whispered.
+
+“I cannot sleep with this burden upon my soul,” he answered her; but
+still she pleaded with him, begging him as he loved her; and he
+yielded to her at last, and broken and helpless as he was, she half
+carried him upstairs and laid him upon the bed as if he had been a
+little child. That seemed to help little, however, for he only lay
+tossing and moaning, “Oh, God, it must end; I cannot bear it!”
+
+Those were the last words Helen heard, for the poor girl was
+exhausted herself, almost to fainting; she lay down, without
+undressing, and her head had scarcely touched the pillow before she
+was asleep. In the meantime, through the long night-watches David
+lay writhing and crying out for help.
+
+The moon rose dim and red behind the mountains,--it had mounted
+high in the sky, and the room was bright with it, when at last the
+man rose from the bed and began swiftly pacing the room, still
+muttering to himself. He sank down upon his knees by the window and
+gazed up at the silent moon. Then again he rose and turned suddenly,
+and after a hurried glance at Helen went to the door and passed out,
+closing it silently behind him, and whispered to himself, half
+deliriously, “Oh, great God, it must end! It must end!”
+
+It was more than an hour afterwards that the girl awakened from her
+troubled sleep; she lay for an instant half dazed, trying to bring
+back to her mind what had happened; and then she put out her hand
+and discovered that her husband was no longer by her. She sat up
+with a wild start, and at the same instant her ear was caught by a
+sound outside, of footsteps pacing swiftly back and forth, back and
+forth, upon the piazza. The girl leaped up with a stifled cry, and
+ran out of the room and down the steps. The room below was still
+half lighted by the flickering log-fire, and Helen's shadow loomed
+up on the opposite wall as she rushed across the room and opened the
+door.
+
+The gray light of dawn was just spreading across the lake, but the
+girl noticed only one thing, her husband's swiftly moving figure.
+She rushed to him, and as he heard her, he turned and stared at her
+an instant as if dazed, and then staggered with a cry into her arms.
+“David, David!” she exclaimed, “what is the matter?” Then as she
+clasped him to her she found that his body was trembling
+convulsively, and that his hand as she took it was hot like fire;
+she called to him again in yet greater anxiety: “David, David! What
+is it? You will kill me if you treat me so!”
+
+He answered her weakly, “Nothing, dear, nothing,” and she caught him
+to her, and turned and half carried him into the house. She
+staggered into a chair with him, and then sat gazing in terror at
+his countenance. For the man's forehead was burning and moist, and
+his frame was shaking and broken; he was completely prostrated by
+the fearful agitation that had possessed him. Helen cried to him
+once more, but he could only pant, “Wait, wait,” and sink back and
+let his head fall upon her arm; he lay with his eyes closed,
+breathing swiftly, and shuddering now and then. “It was God!” he
+panted with a sudden start, his voice choking; “He has shown me His
+face! He has set me free!”
+
+Then again for a long time he lay with heaving bosom, Helen
+whispering to him pleadingly, “David, David!” As he opened his eyes,
+the girl saw a wonderful look upon his face; and at last he began
+speaking, in a low, shaking voice, and pausing often to catch his
+breath: “Oh, Helen,” he said, “it is all gone, but I won, and my
+life's prayer has not been for nothing! I was never so lost, so
+beaten; but all the time there was a voice in my soul that cried to
+me to fight,--that there was glory enough in God's home for even me!
+And oh, to-night it came--it came!”
+
+David sank back, and there was a long silence before he went on: “It
+was wonderful, Helen,” he whispered, “there has come nothing like it
+to me in all my life; for I had never drunk such sorrow before,
+never known such fearful need. It seems as if all the pent-up forces
+of my nature broke loose in one wild, fearful surge, as if there was
+a force behind me like a mighty, driving storm, that swept me on and
+away, beyond self and beyond time, and out into the life of things.
+It was like the surging of fierce music, it was the great ocean of
+the infinite bursting its way into my heart. And it bore me on, so
+that I was mad with it, so that I knew not where I was, only that I
+was panting for breath, and that I could bear it no more and cried
+out in pain!”
+
+David as he spoke had been lifting himself, the memory of his vision
+taking hold of him once more; but then he sank down again and
+whispered, “Oh, I have no more strength, I can do no more; but it
+was God, and I am free!”
+
+He lay trembling and breathing fast again, but sinking back from his
+effort and closing his eyes exhaustedly. After a long time he went
+on in a faint voice, “I suppose if I had lived long ago that would
+have been a vision of God's heaven; and yet there was not an instant
+of it--even when I fell down upon the ground and when I struck my
+hands upon the stones because they were numb and burning--when I
+did not know just what it was, the surging passion of my soul flung
+loose at last! It was like the voices of the stars and the
+mountains, that whisper of that which is and which conquers, of That
+which conquers without sound or sign; Helen, I thought of that
+wonderful testament of Pascal's that has haunted me all my
+lifetime,--those strange, wild, gasping words of a soul gone mad
+with awe, and beyond all utterance except a cry,--'Joy, joy, tears
+of joy!' And I thought of a still more fearful story, I thought that
+it must have been such thunder-music that rang through the soul of
+the Master and swept Him away beyond scorn and pain, so that the men
+about Him seemed like jeering phantoms that He might scatter with
+His hand, before the glory of vision in which it was all one to live
+or die. Oh, it is that which has brought me my peace! God needs not
+our help, but only our worship; and beside His glory all our guilt
+is nothing, and there is no madness like our fear. And oh, if we can
+only hold to that and fight for it, conquer all temptation and all
+pain--all fear because we must die, and cease to be--”
+
+The man had clenched his hands again, and was lifting himself with
+the wild look upon his countenance; he seemed to the girl to be
+delirious, and she was shuddering, half with awe and half with
+terror. She interrupted him in a sudden burst of alarm: “Yes,
+yes,--but David, David, not now, not now--it is too much--you will
+kill yourself!”
+
+“I can die,” he panted, “I can die, but I cannot ever be mastered
+again, never again be blind! Oh, Helen, all my life I have been lost
+and beaten--beaten by my weakness and my fear; but this once, this
+once I was free, this once I knew, and I lived; and now I can die
+rejoicing! Listen to me, Helen; while I am here there can be no more
+delaying,--no more weakness! Such sin and doubt as that of
+yesterday must never conquer my soul again, I will not any more be
+at the mercy of chance. I love you, Helen, God knows that I love you
+with all my soul; and this much for love I will do, if God spares me
+a day,--take you, and tear the heart out of you, if need be, but
+only teach you to live, teach you to hold by this Truth. It is a
+fearful thing, Helen; it is madness to me to know that at any
+instant I may cease to be, and that you may be left alone in your
+terror and your weakness. Oh, look at me,--look at me! There is no
+more tempting fate, there is no more shirking the battle--there is
+life, there is life to be lived! And it calls to you now,--_now!_
+And now you must win,--cost just what it may in blood and tears! You
+have the choice between that and ruin, and before God you shall
+choose the right! Listen to me, Helen--it is only prayer that can do
+it, it is only by prayer that you can fight this fearful
+battle--bring before you this truth of the soul, and hold on to
+it,--hold on to it tho it kill you! For He was through all the ages,
+His glory is of the skies; and we are but for an instant, and we
+have to die; and this we must know, or we are lost! There comes
+pain, and calls you back to fear and doubt; and you fight--oh, it is
+a cruel fight, it is like a wild beast at your vitals,--but still
+you hold on--you hold on!”
+
+The man had lifted himself with a wild effort, his hands clenched
+and his teeth set. He had caught the girl's hands in his, and she
+screamed in fear: “David, David! You will kill yourself!”
+
+“Yes, yes!” he answered, and rushed on, chokingly; “it is coming
+just so; for I have just force enough left to win--just force enough
+to save you,--and then it will rend this frame of mine in two! It
+comes like a clutch at my heart--it blinds me, and the sky seems to
+turn to fire----”
+
+He sank back with a gasp; Helen caught him to her bosom, exclaiming
+frantically, “Oh, David, spare me--wait! Not now--you cannot bear
+it--have mercy!”
+
+He lay for a long time motionless, seemingly half dazed; then he
+whispered faintly, “Yes, dear, yes; let us wait. But oh, if you
+could know the terror of another defeat, of sinking down and letting
+one's self be bound in the old chains--I must not lose, Helen, I
+dare not fail!”
+
+“Listen, David,” whispered Helen, beginning suddenly with desperate
+swiftness; “why should you fail? Why can you not listen to me, pity
+me, wait until you are strong? You have won, you will not
+forget--and is there no peace, can you not rest in this faith, and
+fear no more?” The man seemed to Helen to be half out of his mind
+for the moment; she was trying to manage him with a kind of frenzied
+cunning. As she went on whispering and imploring she saw that
+David's exhaustion was gradually overcoming him more and more, and
+that he was sinking farther and farther back from his wild
+agitation. At last after she had continued thus for a while he
+closed his eyes and began breathing softly. “Yes, dear,” he
+whispered; “yes; I will be quiet. There has come to my soul to-night
+a peace that is not for words; I can be still, and know that He is
+God, and that He is holy.”
+
+His voice dropped lower each instant, the girl in the meantime
+soothing him and stroking his forehead and pleading with him in a
+shuddering voice, her heart wild with fright. When at last he was
+quite still, and the fearful vision, that had been like a nightmare
+to her, was gone with all its storm and its madness, she took him
+upon her lap, just as she had done before, and sat there clasping
+him in her arms while the time fled by unheeded. It was long
+afterwards--the sun was gleaming across the lake and in at the
+window--before at last her trembling prayer was answered, and he
+sank into an exhausted slumber.
+
+She sat watching him for a long time still, quite white with fear
+and weariness; finally, however, she rose, and carrying the frail
+body in her arms, laid it quietly upon the sofa in the next room.
+She knelt watching it for a time, then went out upon the piazza,
+closing the door behind her.
+
+And there the fearful tension that the dread of wakening him had put
+upon her faculties gave way at last, and the poor girl buried her
+face in her hands, and sank down, sobbing convulsively: “Oh, God,
+oh, God, what can I do, how can I bear it?” She gazed about her
+wildly, exclaiming, “I cannot stand it, and there is no one to help
+me! What _can_ I do?”
+
+Perhaps it was the first real prayer that had ever passed Helen's
+lips; but the burden of her sorrow was too great just then for her
+to bear alone, even in thought. She leaned against the railing of
+the porch with her arms stretched out before her imploringly, her
+face uplifted, and the tears running down her cheeks; she poured out
+one frantic cry, the only cry that she could think of:--“Oh, God,
+have mercy upon me, have mercy upon me! I cannot bear it!”
+
+So she sobbed on, and several minutes passed, but there came to her
+no relief; when she thought of David, of his breaking body and of
+his struggling soul, it seemed to her as if she were caught in the
+grip of a fiend, and that no power could save her. She could only
+clasp her hands together and shudder, and whisper, “What shall I do,
+what shall I do?”
+
+Thus it was that the time sped by; and the morning sun rose higher
+in front of her, and shone down upon the wild and wan figure that
+seemed like a phantom of the night. She was still crouching in the
+same position, her mind as overwrought and hysterical as ever, when
+a strange and unexpected event took place, one which seemed to her
+at first in her state of fright like some delusion of her mind.
+
+Except for her own emotion, and for the faint sound of the waves
+upon the shore, everything about her had been still; her ear was
+suddenly caught, however, by the noise of a footstep, and she turned
+and saw the figure of a man coming down the path from the woods; she
+started to her feet, gazing in surprise.
+
+It was broad daylight then, and Helen could see the person plainly;
+she took only one glance, and reeled and staggered back as if it
+were a ghost at which she was gazing. She crouched by a pillar of
+the porch, trembling like a leaf, and scarcely able to keep her
+senses, leaning from side to side and peering out, with her whole
+attitude expressive of unutterable consternation, and even fright.
+At last when she had gazed until it was no longer possible for her
+to think that she was the victim of madness, she stared suddenly up
+into the air, and caught her forehead in her hands, at the same time
+whispering to herself in an almost fainting voice: “Great heaven,
+what can it mean? Can it be real--can it be true? _It is Arthur!_”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+  I am Merlin
+    And I am dying,
+  “I am Merlin,
+    Who follow the Gleam.”
+
+Helen stood gazing at the figure in utter consternation for at least
+half a minute before she could find voice; then she bent forward and
+called to him wildly--“Arthur!”
+
+It was the other's turn to be startled then, and he staggered
+backward; as he gazed up at Helen his look showed plainly that he
+too was half convinced that he was gazing at a phantom of his own
+mind, and for a long time he stood, pressing his hands to his heart
+and unable to make a sound or a movement. When finally he broke the
+silence his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Helen,” he panted, “what in
+heaven's name are you doing here?”
+
+And then as the girl answered, “This is my home, Arthur,” he gave
+another start.
+
+“You live here with him?” he gasped.
+
+“With him?” echoed Helen in a low voice. “With whom, Arthur?”
+
+He answered, “With that Mr. Harrison.” A look of amazement crossed
+Helen's face, tho followed quickly by a gleam of comprehension. She
+had quite forgotten that Arthur knew nothing about what she had
+done.
+
+“Arthur,” she said, “I did not marry Mr. Harrison;” then, seeing
+that he was staring at her in still greater wonder, she went on
+hastily: “It seems strange to go back to those old days now; but
+once I meant to tell you all about it, Arthur.” She paused for a
+moment and then went on slowly: “All the time I was engaged to that
+man I was wretched; and when I saw you the last time--that dreadful
+time by the road--it was almost more than I could bear; so I took
+back my wicked promise of marriage and came to see you and tell you
+all about it.”
+
+As the girl had been speaking the other had been staring at her with
+a look upon his face that was indescribable, a look that was more
+terror than anything else; he had staggered back, he grasped at a
+tree to support himself. Helen saw the look and stopped, frightened
+herself.
+
+“What is it, Arthur?” she cried; “what is the matter?”
+
+“You came to see me!” the other gasped hoarsely. “You came to see
+me--and I--and I was gone!”
+
+“Yes, Arthur,” said Helen; “you had gone the night before, and I
+could not find you. Then I met this man that I loved, and you wrote
+that you had torn the thought of me from your heart; and so---”
+
+Again Helen stopped, for the man had sunk backwards with a cry that
+made her heart leap in fright. “Arthur!” she exclaimed, taking a
+step towards him; and he answered her with a moan, stretching out
+his arms to her. “Great God, Helen, that letter was a lie!”
+
+Helen stopped, rooted to the spot. “A lie?” she whispered faintly.
+
+“Yes, a lie!” cried the other with a sudden burst of emotion,
+leaping up and starting towards her. “Helen, I have suffered the
+tortures of hell! I loved you--I love you now!”
+
+The girl sprang back, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. Half
+instinctively she drew her light dress more tightly about her; and
+the other saw the motion and stopped, a look of despair crossing his
+face. The two stood thus for fully a minute, staring at each other
+wildly; then suddenly Arthur asked: “You love this man whom you have
+married? You love him?”
+
+The girl answered, “Yes, I love him,” and Arthur's arms dropped, and
+his head sank forward. There was a look upon his face that tore
+Helen's heart to see, so that for a moment or two she stood quite
+dazed with this new terror. Then all at once, however, the old one
+came back to her thoughts, and with a faint cry she started toward
+her old friend, stretching out her arms to him and calling to him
+imploringly.
+
+“Oh, Arthur,” she cried, “have mercy upon me--do not frighten me
+any more! Arthur, if you only knew what I have suffered, you would
+pity me, you could not help it! You would not fling this burden of
+your misery upon me too.”
+
+The man fixed his eyes upon her and for the first time he seemed to
+become aware of the new Helen, the Helen who had replaced the girl
+he had known. He read in her ghastly white face some hint of what
+she had been through, and his own look turned quickly to one of
+wonder, and even awe. “Helen,” he whispered, “are you ill?”
+
+“No, Arthur,” she responded quickly, full of desperate hope as she
+saw his change. “Not ill, but oh, so frightened. I have been more
+wretched than you can ever dream. Can you not help me, Arthur, will
+you not? I was almost despairing, I thought that my heart would
+burst. Can you not be unselfish?”
+
+The man gazed at her at least a minute; and when he answered at
+last, it was in a low, grave voice that was new to her.
+
+“I will do it, Helen,” he said. “What is it?”
+
+The girl came toward him, her voice sinking. “We must not let him
+hear us, Arthur,” she whispered. Then as she gazed into his face she
+added pathetically, “Oh, I cannot tell you how I have wished that I
+might only have someone to sympathize with me and help me! I can
+tell everything to you, Arthur.”
+
+“You are not happy with your husband?” asked the other, in a
+wondering tone, not able to guess what she meant.
+
+“Happy!” echoed Helen. “Arthur, he is ill, and I have been so
+terrified! I feared that he was going to die; we have had such a
+dreadful sorrow.” She paused for a moment, and gazed about her
+swiftly, and laying her finger upon her lips. “He is asleep now,”
+ she went on, “asleep for the first time in three nights, and I was
+afraid that we might waken him; we must not make a sound, for it is
+so dreadful.”
+
+She stopped, and the other asked her what was the matter. “It was
+three nights ago,” she continued, “and oh, we were so happy before
+it! But there came a strange woman, a fearful creature, and she was
+drunk, and my husband found her and brought her home. She was
+delirious, she died here in his arms, while there was no one to help
+her. The dreadful thing was that David had known this woman when she
+was a girl--”
+
+Helen paused again, and caught her breath, for she had been speaking
+very swiftly, shaken by the memory of the scene; the other put in,
+in a low tone, “I heard all about this woman's death, Helen, and I
+know about her--that was how I happen to be here.”
+
+And the girl gave a start, echoing, “Why you happen to be here?”
+ Afterwards she added quickly, “Oh, I forgot to ask you about that.
+What do you mean, Arthur?”
+
+He hesitated a moment before he answered her, speaking very slowly.
+“It is so sad, Helen,” he said, “it is almost too cruel to talk
+about.” He stopped again, and the girl looked at him, wondering;
+then he went on to speak one sentence that struck her like a bolt of
+lightning from the sky:--“Helen, that poor woman was my mother!”
+
+And Helen staggered back, almost falling, clutching her hands to her
+forehead, and staring, half dazed.
+
+“Arthur,” she panted, “Arthur!”
+
+He bowed his head sadly, answering, “Yes, Helen, it is dreadful--”
+
+And the girl leaped towards him, seizing him by the shoulders with a
+thrilling cry; she stared into his eyes, her own glowing like fire.
+“Arthur!” she gasped again, “Arthur!”
+
+He only looked at her wonderingly, as if thinking she was mad; until
+suddenly she burst out frantically, “You are David's child! You are
+David's child!” And then for fully half a minute the two stood
+staring at each other, too much dazed to move or to make a sound.
+
+At last Arthur echoed the words, scarcely audibly, “David's child!”
+ and added, “David is your husband?” As Helen whispered “Yes” again,
+they stood panting for breath. It was a long time before the girl
+could find another word to speak, except over and over, “David's
+child!” She seemed unable to realize quite what it meant, she seemed
+unable to put the facts together.
+
+But then suddenly Arthur whispered: “Then it was your husband who
+ruined that woman?” and as Helen answered “Yes,” she grasped a
+little of the truth, and also of Arthur's thought. She ran on
+swiftly: “But oh, it was not his fault, he was only a boy, Arthur!
+And he wished to marry her, but they would not let him--I must tell
+you about that!” Then she stopped short, however; and when she went
+on it was in sudden wild joy that overcame all her other feelings,
+joy that gleamed in her face and made her fling herself down upon
+her knees before Arthur and clutch his hands in hers.
+
+“Oh,” she cried, “it was God who sent you, Arthur,--oh, I know that
+it was God! It is so wonderful to think of--to have come to us all
+in a flash! And it will save David's life--it was the thought of the
+child and the fate that it might have suffered that terrified him
+most of all, Arthur. And now to think that it is you--oh, you! And
+you are David's son--I cannot believe it, I cannot believe it!” Then
+with a wild laugh she sprang up again and turned, exclaiming, “Oh,
+he will be so happy,--I must tell him--we must not lose an
+instant!”
+
+She caught Arthur's hand again, and started towards the house; but
+she had not taken half a dozen steps before she halted suddenly, and
+whispered, “Oh, no, I forgot! He is asleep, and we must not waken
+him now, we must wait!”
+
+And then again the laughter broke out over her face, and she turned
+upon him, radiant. “It is so wonderful!” she cried. “It is so
+wonderful to be happy, to be free once more! And after so much
+darkness--oh, it is like coming out of prison! Arthur, dear Arthur,
+just think of it! And David will be so glad!” The tears started into
+the girl's eyes; she turned away to gaze about her at the golden
+morning and to drink in great draughts of its freshness that made
+her bosom heave. The life seemed to have leaped back into her face
+all at once, and the color into her cheeks, and she was more
+beautiful than ever. “To think of being happy!” she panted, “happy
+again! Oh, if I were not afraid of waking David, you do not know how
+happy I could be! Don't you think I ought to waken him anyway,
+Arthur?--it is so wonderful--it will make him strong again! It is
+so beautiful that you, whom I have always been so fond of, that you
+should be David's son! And you can live here and be happy with us!
+Arthur, do you know I used to think how much like David you looked,
+and wonder at it; but, oh, are you sure it is true?”
+
+She chanced to think of the letter that had been left at her
+father's, and exclaimed, “It must have been that! You have been
+home, Arthur?” she added quickly. “And while father was up here?”
+
+“Yes,” said he, “I wanted to see your father--I could not stay away
+from home any longer. I was so very lonely and unhappy--” Arthur
+stopped for a moment, and the girl paled slightly; as he saw it he
+continued rapidly: “There was no one there but the servant, and she
+gave me the letter.”
+
+“And did she not tell you about me?” asked Helen.
+
+“I asked if you were married,” Arthur said; “I would not listen to
+any more, for I could not bear it; when I had read the letter I came
+up here to look for my poor mother. I wanted to see her; I was as
+lonely as she ever was, and I wanted someone's sympathy--even that
+poor, beaten soul's. I heard in the town that she was dead; they
+told me where the grave was, and that was how I happened out here. I
+thought I would see it once before I left, and before the people who
+lived in this house were awake. Helen, when I saw _you_ I thought it
+was a ghost.”
+
+“It is wonderful, Arthur,” whispered the girl; “it is almost too
+much to believe--but, oh, I can't think of anything except how happy
+it will make David! I love him so, Arthur--and you will love him,
+too, you cannot help but love him.”
+
+“Tell me about it all, Helen,” the other answered; “I heard nothing,
+you know, about my poor mother's story.”
+
+Before Helen answered the question she glanced about her at the
+morning landscape, and for the first time thought of the fact that
+it was cold. “Let us go inside,” she said; “we can sit there and
+talk until David wakens.” And the two stole in, Helen opening the
+door very softly. David was sleeping in the next room, so that it
+was possible not to disturb him; the two sat down before the
+flickering fire and conversed in low whispers. The girl told him the
+story of David's love, and told him all about David, and Arthur in
+turn told her how he had been living in the meantime; only because
+he saw how suddenly happy she was, and withal how nervous and
+overwrought, he said no more of his sufferings.
+
+And Helen had forgotten them utterly; it was pathetic to see her
+delight as she thought of being freed from the fearful terror that
+had haunted her,--she was like a little child in her relief. “He
+will be so happy--he will be so happy!” she whispered again and
+again. “We can all be so happy!” The thought that Arthur was
+actually David's son was so wonderful that she seemed never to be
+able to realize it fully, and every time she uttered the thought it
+was a sweep of the wings of her soul. Arthur had to tell her many
+times that it was actually Mary who had been named in that letter.
+
+So an hour or two passed by, and still David did not waken. Helen
+had crept to the door once or twice to listen to his quiet
+breathing; but each time, thinking of his long trial, she had
+whispered that she could not bear to disturb him yet. However, she
+was getting more and more impatient, and she asked Arthur again and
+again, “Don't you think I ought to wake him now, don't you think
+so--even if it is just for a minute, you know? For oh, he will be so
+glad--it will be like waking up in heaven!”
+
+So it went on until at last she could keep the secret no longer; she
+thought for a while, and then whispered, “I know what I will do--I
+will play some music and waken him in that way. That will not alarm
+him, and it will be beautiful.”
+
+She went to the piano and sat down. “It will seem queer to be
+playing music at this hour,” she whispered; but then she glanced at
+the clock and saw that it was nearly seven, and added, “Why, no, we
+have often begun by this time. You know, Arthur, we used to get up
+wonderfully early all summer, because it was so beautiful then, and
+we used to have music at all sorts of times. Oh, you cannot dream
+how happy we were,--you must wait until you see David, and then you
+will know why I love him so!”
+
+She stopped and sat thoughtfully for a moment whispering, “What
+shall I play?” Then she exclaimed, “I know, Arthur; I will play
+something that he loves very much--and that you used to love,
+too--something that is very soft and low and beautiful.”
+
+Arthur had seated himself beside the piano and was gazing at her;
+the girl sat still for a moment more, gazing ahead of her and
+waiting for everything to be hushed. Then she began, so low as
+scarcely to be audible, the first movement of the wonderful
+“Moonlight Sonata.”
+
+As it stole upon the air and swelled louder, she smiled, because it
+was so beautiful a way to waken David.
+
+And yet there are few things in music more laden with concentrated
+mournfulness than that sonata--with the woe that is too deep for
+tears; as the solemn beating of it continued, in spite of themselves
+the two found that they were hushed and silent. It brought back to
+Helen's mind all of David's suffering--it seemed to be the very
+breathing of his sorrow; and yet still she whispered on to herself,
+“He will waken; and then he will be happy!”
+
+In the next room David lay sleeping. At first it had been heavily,
+because he was exhausted, and afterwards, when the stupor had
+passed, restlessly and with pain. Then at last came the music,
+falling softly at first and blending with his dreaming, and
+afterwards taking him by the hand and leading him out into the land
+of reality, until he found himself lying and listening to it. As he
+recollected all that had happened he gave a slight start and sat up,
+wondering at the strangeness of Helen's playing then. He raised his
+head, and then rose to call her.
+
+And at that instant came the blow.
+
+The man suddenly gave a fearful start; he staggered back upon the
+sofa, clutching at his side with his hand, his face turning white,
+and a look of wild horror coming over it. For an instant he held
+himself up by the sofa, staring around him; and then he sank back,
+half upon the floor, his head falling backwards. And so he lay
+gasping, torn with agony, while the fearful music trod on, the
+relentless throbbing of it like a hammer upon his soul. Twice he
+strove to raise himself and failed; and twice he started to cry out,
+and checked himself in terror; and so it went on until the place of
+despair was reached, until there came that one note in the music
+that is the plunge into night. Helen stopped suddenly there, and
+everything was deathly still--except for the fearful heaving of
+David's bosom.
+
+That silence lasted for several moments; Helen seemed to be waiting
+and listening, and David's whole being was in suspense. Then
+suddenly he gave a start, for he heard the girl coming to the door.
+
+With a gasp of dread he half raised himself, grasping the sofa with
+his knotted hands. He slid down, half crawling and half falling,
+into the corner, where he crouched, breathless and shuddering; so he
+was when Helen came into the room.
+
+She did not see him on the sofa, and she gave a startled cry. She
+wheeled about and gazed around the room. “Where can he be?” she
+exclaimed. “He is not here!” and ran out to the piazza. Then came a
+still more anxious call: “David! David! Where are you?”
+
+And in the meantime David was still crouching in the corner, his
+face uplifted and torn with agony. He gave one fearful sob, and then
+he sank forward; drawing himself by the sheer force of his arms he
+crawled again into sight, and lay clinging to the sofa. Then he gave
+a faint gasping cry, “Helen!”
+
+And the girl heard it, and rushed to the door; she gave one glance
+at the prostrate form and at the white face, and then leaped forward
+with a shrill scream, a scream that echoed through the little house,
+and that froze Arthur's blood. She flung herself down on her knees
+beside her husband, crying “David! David!” And the man looked up at
+her with his ghastly face and his look of terror, and panted,
+“Helen--Helen, it has come!”
+
+She screamed again more wildly than before, and caught him to her
+bosom in frenzy. “No, no, David! No, no!” she cried out; but he only
+whispered hoarsely again, “It has come!”
+
+Meanwhile Arthur had rushed into the room, and the two lifted the
+sufferer up to the sofa, where he sank back and lay for a moment or
+two, half dazed; then, in answer to poor Helen's agonized pleading,
+he gazed at her once more.
+
+“David, David!” she sobbed, choking; “listen to me; it cannot be,
+David, no, no! And see, here is Arthur--Arthur! And David--he is
+your son, he is Mary's child!”
+
+The man gave a faint start and looked at her in bewilderment; then
+as she repeated the words again, “He is your son, he is Mary's
+child,” gradually a look of wondering realization crossed his
+countenance, and he turned and stared up at Arthur.
+
+“Is it true?” he whispered hoarsely. “There is no doubt?”
+
+Helen answered him “Yes, yes,” again and again, swiftly and
+desperately, as if thinking that the joy of it would restore his
+waning strength. The thought did bring a wonderful look of peace
+over David's face, as he gazed from one to the other and
+comprehended it all; he caught Arthur's arm in his trembling hands.
+“Oh, God be praised,” he whispered, “it is almost too much. Oh, take
+care of her--take care of her for me!”
+
+The girl flung herself upon his bosom, sobbing madly; and David sank
+back and lay for an instant or two with his eyes shut, before at
+last her suffering roused him again. He lifted himself up on his
+elbows with a fearful effort. “Helen!” he whispered, in a deep,
+hollow voice; “listen to me--listen to me!--I have only a minute
+more to speak.”
+
+The girl buried her head in his bosom with another cry, but he shook
+her back and caught her by the wrists, at the same time sitting
+erect, a strain that made the veins in his temples start out. “Look
+at me!” he gasped. “Look at me!” and as the girl stared into his
+eyes that were alive with the last frenzied effort of his soul, he
+went on, speaking with fierce swiftness and panting for breath
+between each phrase:
+
+“Helen--Helen--listen to me--twenty years I have kept myself alive
+on earth by such a struggle--by the power of a will that would not
+yield! And now there is but an instant more--an instant--I cannot
+bear it--except to save your soul! For I am going--do you hear
+me--going! And you must stay,--and you have the battle for your life
+to fight! Listen to me--look into my eyes,--for you must call up
+your powers--_now_--now before it is too late! You cannot shirk
+it--do you hear me? It is here!”
+
+And as the man was speaking the frenzied words the look of a tiger
+had come into his face; his eyes were starting from his head, and he
+held Helen's wrists in a grip that turned them black, tho then she
+did not feel the pain. She was gazing into his face, convulsed with
+fright; and the man gasped for breath once more, and then rushed on:
+
+“A fight like this conies once to a soul, Helen--and it wins or it
+loses--and you must win! Do you hear me?--_Win!_ I am dying, Helen,
+I am going--and I leave you to God, and to life. He is, He made
+you, and He demands your worship and your faith--that you hold your
+soul lord of all chances, that you make yourself master of your
+life! And now is your call--now! You clench your hands and you
+pray--it tears your heart-strings, and it bursts your brain--but you
+say that you will--that you will--that you _will!_ Oh, God, that I
+have left you so helpless--that I did not show you the peril of your
+soul! For you _must_ win--oh, if I could but find a word for you!
+For you stand upon the brink of ruin, and you have but an
+instant--but an instant to save yourself--to call up the vision of
+your faith before you, and tho the effort kill you, not to let it
+go! Girl, if you fail, no power of earth or heaven can save you from
+despair! And oh, have I lived with you for nothing--showed you no
+faith--given you no power? Helen, save me--have mercy upon me, I
+cannot stand this, and I dare not--I dare not die!”
+
+The man was leaning forward, gazing into the girl's face, his own
+countenance fearful to see. “I could die,” he gasped; “I could die
+with a song--He has shown me His face--and He is good! But I dare
+not leave you--you--and I am going! Helen! Helen!”
+
+The man's fearful force seemed to have been acting upon the girl
+like magnetism, for tho the look of wild suffering had not left her
+face, she had raised herself and was staring into his burning eyes;
+then suddenly, with an effort that shook her frame she clenched her
+hands and gave a gasp for breath, and panted, scarcely audibly:
+“What--can--I--do?”
+
+David's head had sunk, but he mastered himself once more; and he
+whispered, “I leave you to God--I leave you to life! You can be a
+soul,--you can win--you _must_ win, you must _live_--and
+worship--and rejoice! You must kneel here--here, while I am going, never
+more to return; and you must know that you can never see me again, that
+I shall no longer exist; and you must cling to your faith in the God who
+made you, and praise Him for all that He does! And you will not shed a
+tear--not a tear!”
+
+And his grip tightened yet more desperately; he stared in one last
+wild appeal, and gasped again, “Promise me--not a tear!”
+
+And again the throbbing force of his soul roused the girl; she could
+not speak, she was choking; but she gave a sign of assent, and then
+all at once David's fearful hold relaxed. He gave one look more, one
+that stamped itself upon Helen's soul forever by its fearful
+intensity of yearning; and after it he breathed a sigh that seemed
+to pant out the last mite of strength in his frame, and sank
+backwards upon the sofa, with Helen still clinging to him.
+
+There for an instant or two he lay, breathing feebly; and the girl
+heard a faint whisper again--“Not a tear--not a tear!” He opened
+his eyes once more and gazed at her dimly, and then a slight
+trembling shook his frame. His chest heaved once more and sank, and
+after it everything was still.
+
+For an instant Helen stared at him, dazed; then she clutched him by
+the shoulders, whispering hoarsely-then calling louder and louder in
+frenzied terror, “David, David!” He gave no answer, and with a cry
+that was fearful to hear the girl clutched him to her. The body was
+limp and lifeless--the head fell forward as if the neck were
+broken; and Helen staggered backward with a scream.
+
+There came an instant of fierce agony then; she stood in the center
+of the room, reeling and swaying, clutching her head in her hands,
+her face upturned and tortured. And first she gasped, “He is dead!”
+ and then “I shall not ever see him again!” And she choked and
+swallowed a lump in her throat, whispering in awful terror, “Not a
+tear--not a tear!” And then she flung up her arms and sank forward
+with an incoherent cry, and fell senseless into Arthur's arms.
+
+A week had passed since David's death; and Helen was in her father's
+home once more, sitting by the window in the gathering twilight. She
+was yery pale, and her eyes were sunken and hollow; but the beauty
+of her face was still there, tho in a strange and terrible way. Her
+hand was resting upon Arthur's, and she was gazing into his eyes and
+speaking in a deep, solemn voice.
+
+“It will not ever leave me, Arthur, I know it will not ever leave
+me; it is like a fearful vision that haunts me night and day, a
+voice that cries out in my soul and will not let me rest; and I know
+I shall never again be able to live like other people, never be free
+from its madness. For oh, I do not think it is often that a human
+soul sees what I saw--he seemed to drag me out into the land of
+death with him, into the very dwelling-place of God. And I almost
+went with him, Arthur, almost! Can you dream what I suffered--have
+you any idea of what it means to a human being to make such an
+effort? I loved that man as if he had been my own soul; I was bound
+to him so that he was all my life, and to have him go was like
+tearing my heart in two; and he had told me that I should never see
+him again, that there was nothing to look for beyond death. And yet,
+Arthur, I won--do you ever realize it?--I won. It seemed to me as if
+the earth were reeling about me--as if the very air I breathed were
+fire; and oh, I thought that he was dead--that he was gone from me
+forever, and I believed that I was going mad! And then, Arthur,
+those awful words of his came ringing through my mind, 'Not a tear,
+not a tear!' I had no faith, I could see nothing but that the world
+was black with horror; and yet I heard those words! It was love--it
+was even fear, I think, that held me to it; I had worshiped his
+sacredness, I had given all my soul to the wonder of his soul; and I
+dared not be false to him--I dared not dishonor him,--and I knew
+that he had told me that grief was a crime, that there was truth in
+the world that I might cling to. And oh, Arthur, I won it--I won it!
+I kept the faith--David's faith; and it is still alive upon the
+earth. It seems to me almost as if I had won his soul from death--as
+if I had saved his spirit in mine-as if I could still rejoice in his
+life, still have his power and his love; and there is a kind of
+fearful consecration in my heart, a glory that I am afraid to know
+of, as if God's hand had been laid upon me.
+
+“David used to tell me, Arthur, that if only that power is roused in
+a soul, if only it dwells in that sacredness, there can no longer be
+fear or evil in its life; that the strife and the vanity and the
+misery in this cruel world about us come from nothing else but that
+men do not know this vision, that it is so hard--so dreadfully
+hard--to win. And he used to say that this power is infinite, that
+it depends only upon how much one wants it; and that he who
+possessed it had the gift of King Midas, and turned all things that
+he touched to gold. That is real madness to me, Arthur, and will not
+let me be still; and yet I know that it cannot ever die in me; for
+whenever there is an instant's weakness there flashes over me again
+the fearful thought of David, that he is gone back into nothingness,
+that nowhere can I ever see him, ever hear his voice or speak to him
+again,-that I am alone-alone! And that makes me clench my hands and
+nerve my soul, and fight again, and still again! Arthur, I did that
+for days, and did not once know why-only because David had told me
+to, because I was filled with a fearful terror of proving a coward
+soul, because I had heard him say that if one only held the faith
+and prayed, the word would come to him at last. And it was true--it
+was true, Arthur; it was like the tearing apart of the skies, it was
+as if I had rent my way through them. I saw, as I had never dreamed
+I could see when I heard David speak of it, how God's Presence is
+infinite and real; how it guides the blazing stars, and how our life
+is but an instant and is nothing beside it; and how it makes no
+difference that we pass into nothingness--His glory is still the
+same. Then I saw too what a victory I had won, Arthur,--how I could
+live in it, and how I was free, and master of my life; there came
+over me a feeling for which there is no word, a kind of demon force
+that was madness. I thought of that wonderful sixth chapter of
+Isaiah that David used to think so much beyond reading, that he used
+to call the artist's chapter; and oh, I knew just what it was that I
+had to do in the world!”
+
+Helen had been speaking very intensely, her voice shaking; the
+other's gaze was riveted upon her face. “Arthur,” she added, her
+voice sinking to a whisper, “I have no art, but you have; and we
+must fight together for this fearful glory, we must win this prize
+of God.” And for a long time the two sat in silence, trembling,
+while the darkness gathered about them. Helen had turned her head,
+and gazed out, with face uplifted, at the starry shield that
+quivered and shook above them; suddenly Arthur saw her lips moving
+again, and heard her speaking the wonderful words that she had
+referred to,--her voice growing more and more intense, and sinking
+into a whisper of awe:--
+
+“In the year that King Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon
+a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.
+
+“Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he
+covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain
+he did fly.
+
+“And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord
+of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.
+
+“And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and
+the house was filled with smoke.
+
+“Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of
+unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips:
+for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.
+
+“Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a living coal in his
+hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar:
+
+“And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy
+lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.
+
+“Also I heard the Voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and
+who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.”
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of King Midas, by Upton Sinclair
+
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+      King Midas, by Upton Sinclair
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of King Midas, by Upton Sinclair
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: King Midas
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4923]
+This file was first posted on March 27, 2002
+Last Updated: March 10, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING MIDAS ***
+
+
+
+
+Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      KING MIDAS
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      A ROMANCE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Upton Sinclair
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                 I dreamed that Soul might dare the pain,
+                   Unlike the prince of old,
+                 And wrest from heaven the fiery touch
+                   That turns all things to gold.
+               </pre>
+    <h5>
+      New York and London <br /> <br /> 1901
+    </h5>
+    <p>
+      <b>NOTE</b>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the course of this story, the author has had occasion to refer to
+      Beethoven's Sonata Appassionata as containing a suggestion of the opening
+      theme of the Fifth Symphony. He has often seen this stated, and believed
+      that the statement was generally accepted as true. Since writing, however,
+      he has heard the opinion expressed, by a musician who is qualified to
+      speak as an authority, that the two themes have nothing to do with each
+      other. The author himself is not competent to have an opinion on the
+      subject, but because the statement as first made is closely bound up with
+      the story, he has allowed it to stand unaltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two extracts from MacDowell's &ldquo;Woodland Sketches,&rdquo; on pages 214 and
+      291, are reprinted with the kind permission of Professor MacDowell and of
+      Arthur P. Schmidt, publisher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>PART I</b> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART II</b> </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER I </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER II </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER III </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER IV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PART I
+    </h2>
+    <h4>
+      In the merry month of May.
+    </h4>
+    <h1>
+      KING MIDAS
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;O Madchen, Madchen,
+  Wie lieb' ich dich!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      It was that time of year when all the world belongs to poets, for their
+      harvest of joy; when those who seek the country not for beauty, but for
+      coolness, have as yet thought nothing about it, and when those who dwell
+      in it all the time are too busy planting for another harvest to have any
+      thought of poets; so that the latter, and the few others who keep
+      something in their hearts to chime with the great spring-music, have the
+      woods and waters all for their own for two joyful months, from the time
+      that the first snowy bloodroot has blossomed, until the wild rose has
+      faded and nature has no more to say. In those two months there are two
+      weeks, the ones that usher in the May, that bear the prize of all the year
+      for glory; the commonest trees wear green and silver then that would
+      outshine a coronation robe, and if a man has any of that prodigality of
+      spirit which makes imagination, he may hear the song of all the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was on such a May morning in the midst of a great forest of pine trees,
+      one of those forests whose floors are moss-covered ruins that give to them
+      the solemnity of age and demand humility from those who walk within their
+      silences. There was not much there to tell of the springtime, for the
+      pines are unsympathetic, but it seemed as if all the more wealth had been
+      flung about on the carpeting beneath. Where the moss was not were flowing
+      beds of fern, and the ground was dotted with slender harebells and the
+      dusty, half-blossomed corydalis, while from all the rocks the bright red
+      lanterns of the columbine were dangling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the beauty so wonderfully squandered there was but one witness, a young
+      man who was walking slowly along, stepping as it seemed where there were
+      no flowers; and who, whenever he stopped to gaze at a group of them, left
+      them unmolested in their happiness. He was tall and slenderly built, with
+      a pale face shadowed by dark hair; he was clad in black, and carried in
+      one hand a half-open book, which, however, he seemed to have forgotten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A short distance ahead was a path, scarcely marked except where the
+      half-rotted trees were trodden through. Down this the young man turned,
+      and a while later, as his ear was caught by the sound of falling water, he
+      quickened his steps a trifle, until he came to a little streamlet which
+      flowed through the forest, taking for its bed the fairest spot in that
+      wonderland of beauty. It fled from rock to rock covered with the brightest
+      of bright green moss and with tender fern that was but half uncurled, and
+      it flashed in the sunlit places and tinkled from the deep black shadows,
+      ever racing faster as if to see what more the forest had to show. The
+      young man's look had been anxious before, but he brightened in spite of
+      himself in the company of the streamlet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not far beyond was a place where a tiny rill flowed down from the high
+      rocks above, and where the path broadened out considerably. It was a
+      darkly shadowed spot, and the little rill was gathered in a sunken barrel,
+      which the genius of the place had made haste to cover with the green
+      uniform worn by all else that was to be seen. Beside the spring thus
+      formed the young man seated himself, and after glancing impatiently at his
+      watch, turned his gaze upon the beauty that was about him. Upon the
+      neighboring rocks the columbine and harebell held high revel, but he did
+      not notice them so much as a new sight that flashed upon his eye; for the
+      pool where the two streamlets joined was like a nest which the
+      marsh-marigold had taken for its home. The water was covered with its
+      bright green and yellow, and the young man gazed at the blossoms with
+      eager delight, until finally he knelt and plucked a few of them, which he
+      laid, cool and gleaming, upon the seat by the spring.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The flowers did not hold his attention very long, however; he rose up and
+      turned away towards where, a few steps beyond, the open country could be
+      seen between the tree trunks. Beyond the edge of the woods was a field,
+      through which the footpath and the streamlet both ran, the former to join
+      a road leading to a little town which lay in the distance. The landscape
+      was beautiful in its morning freshness, but it was not that which the
+      young man thought of; he had given but one glance before he started back
+      with a slight exclamation, his face turning paler. He stepped into the
+      concealment of the thick bushes at one side, where he stood gazing out,
+      motionless except for a slight trembling. Down the road he had seen a
+      white-clad figure just coming out of the village; it was too far away to
+      be recognized, but it was a young girl, walking with a quick and springing
+      step, and he seemed to know who it was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not gone very far before she came to a thick hedge which lined the
+      roadside and hid her from the other's view; he could not see her again
+      until she came to the place where the streamlet was crossed by a bridge,
+      and where the little path turned off towards the forest. In the meantime
+      he stood waiting anxiously; for when she reached there he would see her
+      plainly for the first time, and also know if she were coming to the
+      spring. She must have stopped to look at something, for the other had
+      almost started from his hiding place in his eagerness when finally she
+      swept past the bushes. She turned down the path straight towards him, and
+      he clasped his hands together in delight as he gazed at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And truly she was a very vision of the springtime, as she passed down the
+      meadows that were gleaming with their first sprinkling of buttercups. She
+      was clad in a dress of snowy white, which the wind swept before her as she
+      walked; and it had stolen one strand of her golden hair to toss about and
+      play with. She came with all the eagerness and spring of the brooklet that
+      danced beside her, her cheeks glowing with health and filled with the
+      laughter of the morning. Surely, of all the flowers of the May-time there
+      is none so fair as the maiden. And the young man thought as he stood
+      watching her that in all the world there was no maiden so fair as this.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not see him, for her eyes were lifted to a little bobolink that
+      had come flying down the wind. One does not hear the bobolink at his best
+      unless one goes to hear him; for sheer glorified happiness there is in all
+      our land no bird like him at the hour of sunrise, when he is drunk with
+      the morning breeze and the sight of the dew-filled roses. At present a
+      shower had just passed and the bobolink may have thought that another dawn
+      had come; or perhaps he saw the maiden. At any rate, he perched himself
+      upon the topmost leaf of the maple tree, still half-flying, as if scorning
+      even that much support; and there he sang his song. First he gave his long
+      prelude that one does not often hear&mdash;a few notes a score of times
+      repeated, and growing swift and loud, and more and more strenuous and
+      insistent; as sometimes the orchestra builds up its climax, so that the
+      listener holds his breath and waits for something, he knows not what. Then
+      he paused a moment and turned his head to see if the girl were watching,
+      and filled his throat and poured out his wonderful gushing music, with its
+      watery and bell-like tone that only the streamlet can echo, from its
+      secret places underneath the banks. Again and again he gave it forth, the
+      white patches on his wings flashing in the sunlight and both himself and
+      his song one thrill of joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl's face was lit up with delight as she tripped down the meadow
+      path. A gust of wind came up behind her, and bowed the grass and the
+      flowers before her and swung the bird upon the tree; and so light was the
+      girl's step that it seemed to lift her and sweep her onward. As it grew
+      stronger she stretched out her arms to it and half leaned upon it and
+      flung her head back for the very fullness of her happiness. The wind
+      tossed her skirts about her, and stole another tress of hair, and swung
+      the lily which she had plucked and which she carried in her hand. It is
+      only when one has heard much music that he understands the morning wind,
+      and knows that it is a living thing about which he can say such things as
+      that; one needs only to train his ear and he can hear its footsteps upon
+      the meadows, and hear it calling to him from the tops of the trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was the very spirit of the wind at that moment, and she seemed to
+      feel that some music was needed. She glanced up again at the bobolink, who
+      had ceased his song; she nodded to him once as if for a challenge, and
+      then, still leaning back upon the breeze, and keeping time with the flower
+      in her hand, she broke out into a happy song:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;I heard a streamlet gushing
+    From out its rocky bed,
+  Far down the valley rushing,
+    So fresh and clear it sped.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      But then, as if even Schubert were not equal to the fullness of her heart,
+      or because the language of joy has no words, she left the song unfinished
+      and swept on in a wild carol that rose and swelled and made the forest
+      echo. The bobolink listened and then flew on to listen again, while still
+      the girl poured out her breathless music, a mad volley of soaring melody;
+      it seemed fairly to lift her from her feet, and she was half dancing as
+      she went. There came another gust of wind and took her in its arms; and
+      the streamlet fled before her; and thus the three, in one wild burst of
+      happiness, swept into the woodland together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There in its shadows the girl stopped short, her song cut in half by the
+      sight of the old forest in its majesty. One could not have imagined a
+      greater contrast than the darkness and silence which dwelt beneath the
+      vast canopy, and she gazed about her in rapture, first at the trees and
+      then at the royal carpet of green, starred with its fields of flowers. Her
+      breast heaved, and she stretched out her arms as if she would have clasped
+      it all to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is so beautiful!&rdquo; she cried aloud. &ldquo;It is so beautiful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime the young man, still unseen, had been standing in the
+      shadow of the bushes, drinking in the sight. The landscape and the figure
+      and the song had all faded from his thoughts, or rather blended themselves
+      as a halo about one thing, the face of this girl. For it was one of those
+      faces that a man may see once in a lifetime and keep as a haunting memory
+      ever afterwards, as a vision of the sweetness and glory of woman; at this
+      moment it was a face transfigured with rapture, and the man who was gazing
+      upon it was trembling, and scarcely aware of where he was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For fully a minute more the girl stood motionless, gazing about at the
+      forest; then she chanced to look towards the spring, where she saw the
+      flowers upon the seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, someone has left a nosegay!&rdquo; she exclaimed, as she started forward;
+      but that seemed to suggest another thought to her, and she looked around.
+      As she did so she caught sight of the young man and sprang towards him.
+      &ldquo;Why, Arthur! You here!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other started forward as if he would have clasped her in his arms; but
+      then recollecting himself he came forward very slowly, half lowering his
+      eyes before the girl's beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you recollect me, Helen, do you?&rdquo; he said, in a low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Recollect you?&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;Why, you dear, foolish boy, of course I
+      recollect you. But how in the world do you come to be here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came here to see you, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To see me?&rdquo; exclaimed she. &ldquo;But pray how&mdash;&rdquo; and then she stopped,
+      and a look of delight swept across her face. &ldquo;You mean that you knew I
+      would come here the first thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, that was beautiful!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;I am so glad I did come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The glance which she gave made his heart leap up; for a moment or two they
+      were silent, looking at each other, and then suddenly another thought
+      struck the girl. &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;I forgot! Do you mean to tell me
+      that you have come all the way from Hilltown?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And just to see me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She received the same answer again. &ldquo;It is twelve miles,&rdquo; she exclaimed;
+      &ldquo;who ever heard of such a thing? You must be tired to death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put out her hand, which he took tremblingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us go sit down on the bench,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and then we can talk about
+      things. I am perfectly delighted that you came,&rdquo; she added when she had
+      seated herself, with the marigolds and the lily in her lap. &ldquo;It will seem
+      just like old times; just think how long ago it was that I saw you last,
+      Arthur,&mdash;three whole years! And do you know, as I left the town I
+      thought of you, and that I might find you here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man's face flushed with pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I'd forgotten you since!&rdquo; went on the girl, eyeing him mischievously;
+      &ldquo;for oh, I was so happy, coming down the old, old path, and seeing all the
+      old sights! Things haven't changed a bit, Arthur; the woods look exactly
+      the same, and the bridge hasn't altered a mite since the days we used to
+      sit on the edge and let our feet hang in. Do you remember that, Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; was the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that was over a dozen years ago! How old are you now, Arthur,&mdash;twenty-one&mdash;no,
+      twenty-two; and I am just nineteen. To-day is my birthday, you know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had not forgotten it, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You came to welcome me! And so did everything else. Do you know, I don't
+      think I'd ever been so happy in my life as I was just now. For I thought
+      the old trees greeted me, and the bridge, and the stream! And I'm sure
+      that was the same bobolink! They don't have any bobolinks in Germany, and
+      so that one was the first I have heard in three years. You heard him,
+      didn't you, Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did&mdash;at first,&rdquo; said Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then you heard me, you wicked boy! You heard me come in here singing
+      and talking to myself like a mad creature! I don't think I ever felt so
+      like singing before; they make hard work out of singing and everything
+      else in Germany, you know, so I never sang out of business hours; but I
+      believe I could sing all day now, because I'm so happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said the other, seriously; &ldquo;I could listen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I want to talk to you just now,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;You should have kept
+      yourself hidden and then you'd have heard all sorts of wonderful things
+      that you'll never have another chance to hear. For I was just going to
+      make a speech to the forest, and I think I should have kissed each one of
+      the flowers. You might have put it all into a poem,&mdash;for oh, father
+      tells me you're going to be a great poet!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to try,&rdquo; said Arthur, blushing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just think how romantic that would be!&rdquo; the girl laughed; &ldquo;and I could
+      write your memoir and tell all I knew about you. Tell me about yourself,
+      Arthur&mdash;I don't mean for the memoir, but because I want to know the
+      news.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There isn't any, Helen, except that I finished college last spring, as I
+      wrote you, and I'm teaching school at Hilltown.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you like it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hate it; but I have to keep alive, to try to be a poet. And that is the
+      news about myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Except,&rdquo; added Helen, &ldquo;that you walked twelve miles this glorious
+      Saturday morning to welcome me home, which was beautiful. And of course
+      you'll stay over Sunday, now you're here; I can invite you myself, you
+      know, for I've come home to take the reins of government. You never saw
+      such a sight in your life as my poor father has made of our house; he's
+      got the parlor all full of those horrible theological works of his, just
+      as if God had never made anything beautiful! And since I've been away that
+      dreadful Mrs. Dale has gotten complete charge of the church, and she's one
+      of those creatures that wouldn't allow you to burn a candle in the organ
+      loft; and father never was of any use for quarreling about things.&rdquo;
+       (Helen's father, the Reverend Austin Davis, was the rector of the little
+      Episcopal church in the town of Oakdale just across the fields.) &ldquo;I only
+      arrived last night,&rdquo; the girl prattled on, venting her happiness in that
+      way instead of singing; &ldquo;but I hunted up two tallow candles in the attic,
+      and you shall see them in church to-morrow. If there's any complaint about
+      the smell, I'll tell Mrs. Dale we ought to have incense, and she'll get so
+      excited about that that I'll carry the candles by default. I'm going to
+      institute other reforms also,&mdash;I'm going to make the choir sing in
+      tune!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will only sing as you were singing just now, nobody will hear the
+      rest of the choir,&rdquo; vowed the young man, who during her remarks had never
+      taken his eyes off the girl's radiant face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen seemed not to notice it, for she had been arranging the marigolds;
+      now she was drying them with her handkerchief before fastening them upon
+      her dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to learn to sing yourself,&rdquo; she said while she bent her head
+      down at that task. &ldquo;Do you care for music any more than you used to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall care for it just as I did then,&rdquo; was the answer,
+      &ldquo;whenever you sing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh!&rdquo; said Helen, looking up from her marigolds; &ldquo;the idea of a dumb
+      poet anyway, a man who cannot sing his own songs! Don't you know that if
+      you could sing and make yourself gloriously happy as I was just now, and
+      as I mean to be some more, you could write poetry whenever you wish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can believe that,&rdquo; said Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why haven't you ever learned? Our English poets have all been
+      ridiculous creatures about music, any how; I don't believe there was one
+      in this century, except Browning, that really knew anything about it, and
+      all their groaning and pining for inspiration was nothing in the world but
+      a need of some music; I was reading the 'Palace of Art' only the other
+      day, and there was that 'lordly pleasure house' with all its modern
+      improvements, and without a sound of music. Of course the poor soul had to
+      go back to the suffering world, if it were only to hear a hand-organ
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is certainly a novel theory,&rdquo; admitted the young poet. &ldquo;I shall come
+      to you when I need inspiration.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come and bring me your songs,&rdquo; added the girl, &ldquo;and I will sing them to
+      you. You can write me a poem about that brook, for one thing. I was
+      thinking just as I came down the road that if I were a poet I should have
+      beautiful things to say to that brook. Will you do it for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already tried to write one,&rdquo; said the young man, hesitatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A song?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, good! And I shall make some music for it; will you tell it to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, if you can remember it,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;Can you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you wish it,&rdquo; said Arthur, simply; &ldquo;I wrote it two or three months
+      ago, when the country was different from now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He fumbled in his pocket for some papers, and then in a low tone he read
+      these words to the girl:
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      AT MIDNIGHT
+    </h3>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  The burden of the winter
+    The year haa borne too long,
+  And oh, my heart is weary
+    For a springtime song!
+
+  The moonbeams shrink unwelcomed
+    From the frozen lake;
+  Of all the forest voices
+    There is but one awake
+
+  I seek thee, happy streamlet
+    That murmurest on thy way,
+  As a child in troubled slumber
+    Still dreaming of its play;
+
+  I ask thee where in thy journey
+    Thou seeest so fair a sight,
+  That thou hast joy and singing
+    All through the winter night.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen was silent for a few moments, then she said, &ldquo;I think that is
+      beautiful, Arthur; but it is not what I want.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should have liked it when you wrote it, but now the spring has come,
+      and we must be happy. You have heard the springtime song.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Arthur, &ldquo;and the streamlet has led me to the beautiful sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It <i>is</i> beautiful,&rdquo; said Helen, gazing about her with that naive
+      unconsciousness which &ldquo;every wise man's son doth know&rdquo; is one thing he may
+      never trust in a woman. &ldquo;It could not be more beautiful,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;and
+      you must write me something about it, instead of wandering around our
+      pasture-pond on winter nights till your imagination turns it into a frozen
+      lake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young poet put away his papers rather suddenly at that, and Helen,
+      after gazing at him for a moment, and laughing to herself, sprang up from
+      the seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;why are we sitting here, anyway, talking about all
+      sorts of things, and forgetting the springtime altogether? I haven't been
+      half as happy yet as I mean to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She seemed to have forgotten her friend's twelve mile walk; but he had
+      forgotten it too, just as he soon forgot the rather wintry reception of
+      his little song. It was not possible for him to remain dull very long in
+      the presence of the girl's glowing energy; for once upon her feet, Helen's
+      dancing mood seemed to come back to her, if indeed it had ever more than
+      half left her. The brooklet struck up the measure again, and the wind
+      shook the trees far above them, to tell that it was still awake, and the
+      girl was the very spirit of the springtime once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Arthur,&rdquo; she said as she led him down the path, &ldquo;just think how happy
+      I ought to be, to welcome all the old things after so long, and to find
+      them all so beautiful; it is just as if the country had put on its finest
+      dress to give me greeting, and I feel as if I were not half gay enough in
+      return. Just think what this springtime is, how all over the country
+      everything is growing and rejoicing; <i>that</i> is what I want you to put
+      into the poem for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so she led him on into the forest, carried on by joy herself, and
+      taking all things into her song. She did not notice that the young man's
+      forehead was flushed, or that his hand was burning when she took it in
+      hers as they walked; if she noticed it, she chose at any rate to pretend
+      not to. She sang to him about the forest and the flowers, and some more of
+      the merry song which she had sung before; then she stopped to shake her
+      head at a saucy adder's tongue that thrust its yellow face up through the
+      dead leaves at her feet, and to ask that wisest-looking of all flowers
+      what secrets it knew about the spring-time. Later on they came to a place
+      where the brook fled faster, sparkling brightly in the sunlight over its
+      shallow bed of pebbles; it was only her runaway caroling that could keep
+      pace with that, and so her glee mounted higher, the young man at her side
+      half in a trance, watching her laughing face and drinking in the sound of
+      her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How long that might have lasted there is no telling, had it not been that
+      the woods came to an end, disclosing more open fields and a village
+      beyond. &ldquo;We'd better not go any farther,&rdquo; said Helen, laughing; &ldquo;if any of
+      the earth creatures should hear us carrying on they would not know it was
+      'Trunkenheit ohne Wein.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stretched out her hand to her companion, and led him to a seat upon a
+      fallen log nearby. &ldquo;Poor boy,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I forgot that you were supposed
+      to be tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It does not make any difference,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;I hadn't thought of
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's no need to walk farther,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;for I've seen all that I
+      wish to see. How dear this walk ought to be to us, Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know about you, Helen,&rdquo; said the young man, &ldquo;but it has been
+      dear to me indeed. I could not tell you how many times I have walked over
+      it, all alone, since you left; and I used to think about the many times I
+      had walked it with you. You haven't forgotten, Helen, have you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man was resting his head upon his hand and gazing steadily at
+      the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember, Helen&mdash;?&rdquo; He stopped; and she turned with her
+      bright clear eyes and gazed into his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Remember what?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember the last time we took it, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flushed a trifle, and half involuntarily turned her glance away again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember?&rdquo; he asked again, seeing that she was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember,&rdquo; said the girl, her voice lower&mdash;&ldquo;But I'd rather
+      you did not&mdash;.&rdquo; She stopped short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wish to forget it, Helen?&rdquo; asked Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was trembling with anxiety, and his hands, which were clasped about his
+      knee, were twitching. &ldquo;Oh, Helen, how can you?&rdquo; he went on, his voice
+      breaking. &ldquo;Do you not remember the last night that we sat there by the
+      spring, and you were going away, no one knew for how long&mdash;and how
+      you told me that it was more than you could bear; and the promise that you
+      made me? Oh, Helen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl gazed at him with a frightened look; he had sunk down upon his
+      knee before her, and he caught her hand which lay upon the log at her
+      side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;you cannot mean to forget that? For that promise has
+      been the one joy of my life, that for which I have labored so hard! My one
+      hope, Helen! I came to-day to claim it, to tell you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with a wild glance about her, the girl sprang to her feet, snatching
+      her hand away from his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;Arthur, you must not speak to me so!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must not, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; she cried, trembling; &ldquo;we were only children, and we did not
+      know the meaning of the words we used. You must not talk to me that way,
+      Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; he protested, helplessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, I will not allow it!&rdquo; she cried more vehemently, stepping back as
+      he started towards her, and holding close to her the hand he had held. &ldquo;I
+      had no idea there was such a thought in your mind&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen stopped, breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&mdash;or you would not have been so kind to me?&rdquo; the other added
+      faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought of you as an old friend,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;I was but a child when I
+      went away. I wish you still to be a friend, Arthur; but you must not act
+      in that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man glanced once at her, and when he saw the stern look upon her
+      face he buried his head in his arms without a sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For fully a minute they remained thus, in silence; then as Helen watched
+      him, her chest ceased gradually to heave, and a gentler look returned to
+      her face. She came and sat down on the log again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; she said after another silence, &ldquo;can we not just be friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man answered nothing, but he raised his head and gazed at her;
+      and she saw that there were tears in his eyes, and a look of mute
+      helplessness upon his face. She trembled slightly, and rose to her feet
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; she said gravely, &ldquo;this must not be; we must not sit here any
+      longer. I must go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; exclaimed the other, springing up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he saw her brow knit again, and he stopped short. The girl gazed about
+      her, and the village in the distance caught her eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; she said, with forced calmness; &ldquo;I promised father that I would
+      go and see old Mrs. Woodward, who was asking for me. You may wait here, if
+      you like, and walk home with me, for I shall not be gone very long. Will
+      you do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other gazed at her for a moment or two; he was trying to read the
+      girl's heart, but he saw only the quiet firmness of her features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you wait, Arthur?&rdquo; she asked again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Arthur's head sank upon his breast. &ldquo;Yes, Helen,&rdquo; he said. When he
+      lifted it again, the girl was gone; she had disappeared in the thicket,
+      and he could hear her footsteps as she passed swiftly down the hillside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to the edge of the woods, where he could see her a short distance
+      below, hurrying down the path with a step as light and free as ever. The
+      wind had met her at the forest's edge and joined her once more, playing
+      about her skirts and tossing the lily again. As Arthur watched her, the
+      old music came back into his heart; his eyes sparkled, and all his soul
+      seemed to be dancing in time with her light motion. Thus it went until she
+      came to a place where the path must hide her from his view. The young man
+      held his breath, and when she turned a cry of joy escaped him; she saw him
+      and waved her hand to him gaily as she swept on out of his sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment afterwards he stood rooted to the spot, then whirled about
+      and laughed aloud. He put his hand to his forehead, which was flushed and
+      hot, and he gazed about him, as if he were not sure where he was. &ldquo;Oh, she
+      is so beautiful!&rdquo; he cried, his face a picture of rapture. &ldquo;So beautiful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he started through the forest as wildly as any madman, now muttering
+      to himself and now laughing aloud and making the forest echo with Helen's
+      name. When he stopped again he was far away from the path, in a desolate
+      spot, but tho he was staring around him, he saw no more than before.
+      Trembling had seized his limbs, and he sank down upon the yellow forest
+      leaves, hiding his face in his hands and whispering, &ldquo;Oh, if I should lose
+      her! If I should lose her!&rdquo; As old Polonius has it, truly it was &ldquo;the very
+      ecstasy of love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The town of Oakdale is at the present time a flourishing place, inhabited
+      principally by &ldquo;suburbanites,&rdquo; for it lies not very far from New York; but
+      the Reverend Austin Davis, who was the spiritual guardian of most of them,
+      had come to Oakdale some twenty and more years ago, when it was only a
+      little village, with a struggling church which it was the task of the
+      young clergyman to keep alive. Perhaps the growth of the town had as much
+      to do with his success as his own efforts; but however that might have
+      been he had received his temporal reward some ten years later, in the
+      shape of a fine stone church, with a little parsonage beside it. He had
+      lived there ever since, alone with his one child,&mdash;for just after
+      coming to Oakdale he had married a daughter of one of the wealthy families
+      of the neighborhood, and been left a widower a year or two later.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A more unromantic and thoroughly busy man than Mr. Davis at the age of
+      forty-five, when this story begins, it would not have been easy to find;
+      but nevertheless people spoke of no less than two romances that had been
+      connected with his life. One of them had been his early marriage, which
+      had created a mild sensation, while the other had come into his life even
+      sooner, in fact on the very first day of his arrival at Oakdale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis could still bring back to his mind with perfect clearness the
+      first night he had spent in the little wooden cottage which he had hired
+      for his residence; how while busily unpacking his trunk and trying to
+      bring the disordered place into shape, he had opened the door in answer to
+      a knock and beheld a woman stagger in out of the storm. She was a young
+      girl, surely not yet out of her teens, her pale and sunken face showing
+      marks of refinement and of former beauty. She carried in her arms a child
+      of about a year's age, and she dropped it upon the sofa and sank down
+      beside it, half fainting from exhaustion. The young clergyman's anxious
+      inquiries having succeeded in eliciting but incoherent replies, he had
+      left the room to procure some nourishment for the exhausted woman; it was
+      upon his return that the discovery of the romance alluded to was made, for
+      the woman had disappeared in the darkness and storm, and the baby was
+      still lying upon the sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not altogether a pleasant romance, as is probably the case with a
+      good many romances in reality. Mr. Davis was destined to retain for a long
+      time a vivid recollection of the first night which he spent in alternately
+      feeding that baby with a spoon, and in walking the floor with it; and also
+      to remember the sly glances which his parishioners only half hid from him
+      when his unpleasant plight was made known.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It happened that the poorhouse at Hilltown near by, to which the infant
+      would have gone if he had left it to the care of the county, was at that
+      time being &ldquo;investigated,&rdquo; with all that the name implies when referring
+      to public matters; the clergy of the neighborhood being active in pushing
+      the charges, Mr. Davis felt that at present it would look best for him to
+      provide for the child himself. As the investigation came to nothing, the
+      inducement was made a permanent one; perhaps also the memory of the
+      mother's wan face had something to do with the matter. At any rate the
+      young clergyman, tho but scantily provided for himself, managed to spare
+      enough to engage a woman in the town to take care of the young charge.
+      Subsequently when Mr. Davis' wife died the woman became Helen's nurse, and
+      so it was that Arthur, as the baby boy had been christened, became
+      permanently adopted into the clergyman's little family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had not been possible to keep from Arthur the secret of his parentage,
+      and the fact that it was known to all served to keep him aloof from the
+      other children of the town, and to drive him still more to the confidence
+      of Helen. One of the phrases which Mr. Davis had caught from the mother's
+      lips had been that the boy was a &ldquo;gentleman's son;&rdquo; and Helen was wont to
+      solace him by that reminder. Perhaps the phrase, constantly repeated, had
+      much to do with the proud sensitiveness and the resolute independence
+      which soon manifested itself in the lad's character. He had scarcely
+      passed the age of twelve before, tho treated by Mr. Davis with the love
+      and kindness of a father, he astonished the good man by declaring that he
+      was old enough to take care of himself; and tho Mr. Davis was better
+      situated financially by that time, nothing that he could say could alter
+      the boy's quiet determination to leave school and be independent, a
+      resolution in which he was seconded by Helen, a little miss of some nine
+      years. The two children had talked it over for months, as it appeared, and
+      concluded that it was best to sacrifice in the cause of honor the
+      privilege of going to school together, and of spending the long holidays
+      roaming about the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the lad had served with childish dignity, first as an errand boy, and
+      then as a store clerk, always contributing his mite of &ldquo;board&rdquo; to Mr.
+      Davis' household expenses; meanwhile, possibly because he was really &ldquo;a
+      gentleman's son,&rdquo; and had inherited a taste for study, he had made by
+      himself about as much progress as if he had been at school. Some years
+      later, to the delight of Helen and Mr. Davis, he had carried off a prize
+      scholarship above the heads of the graduates of the Hilltown High School,
+      and still refusing all help, had gone away to college, to support himself
+      there while studying by such work as he could find, knowing well that a
+      true gentleman's son is ashamed of nothing honest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He spent his vacations at home, where he and Helen studied together,&mdash;or
+      such rather had been his hope; it was realized only for the first year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had an aunt upon her mother's side, a woman of wealth and social
+      position, who owned a large country home near Oakdale, and who was by no
+      means inclined to view with the complacency of Mr. Davis the idyllic
+      friendship of the two young people. Mrs. Roberts, or &ldquo;Aunt Polly&rdquo; as she
+      was known to the family, had plans of her own concerning the future of the
+      beauty which she saw unfolding itself at the Oakdale parsonage. She said
+      nothing to Mr. Davis, for he, being busy with theological works and
+      charitable organizations, was not considered a man from whom one might
+      hope for proper ideas about life. But with her own more practical husband
+      she had frequently discussed the danger, and the possible methods of
+      warding it off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To send Helen to a boarding school would have been of no use, for the
+      vacations were the times of danger; so it was that the trip abroad was
+      finally decided upon. Aunt Polly, having traveled herself, had a wholesome
+      regard for German culture, believing that music and things of that sort
+      were paying investments. It chanced, also, that her own eldest daughter,
+      who was a year older than Helen, was about through with all that American
+      teachers had to impart; and so after much argument with Mr. Davis, it was
+      finally arranged that she and Helen should study in Germany together. Just
+      when poor Arthur was returning home with the sublime title of junior, his
+      dream of all things divine was carried off by Aunt Polly, and after a
+      summer spent in &ldquo;doing&rdquo; Europe, was installed in a girl's school in
+      Leipzig.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And now, three years having passed, Helen has left her cousin for another
+      year of travel, and returned home in all the glory of her own springtime
+      and of Nature's; which brings us to where we left her, hurrying away to
+      pay a duty call in the little settlement on the hillside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The visit had not been entirely a subterfuge, for Helen's father had
+      mentioned to her that the elderly person whom she had named to Arthur was
+      expecting to see her when she returned, and Helen had been troubled by the
+      thought that she would never have any peace until she had paid that visit.
+      It was by no means an agreeable one, for old Mrs. Woodward was exceedingly
+      dull, and Helen felt that she was called upon to make war upon dullness.
+      However, it had occurred to her to get her task out of the way at once,
+      while she felt that she ought to leave Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The visit proved to be quite as depressing as she had expected, for it is
+      sad to have to record that Helen, however sensitive to the streamlet and
+      the flowers, had not the least sympathy in the world for an old woman who
+      had a very sharp chin, who stared at one through two pairs of spectacles,
+      and whose conversation was about her own health and the dampness of the
+      springtime, besides the dreariest gossip about Oakdale's least interesting
+      people. Perhaps it might have occurred to the girl that it is very forlorn
+      to have nothing else to talk about, and that even old Mrs. Woodward might
+      have liked to hear about some of the things in the forest, or to have been
+      offered the lily and the marigold. Unfortunately, however, Helen did not
+      think about any of that, but only moved restlessly about in her chair and
+      gazed around the ugly room. Finally when she could stand it no more, she
+      sprang up between two of Mrs. Woodward's longest sentences and remarked
+      that it was very late and a long way home, and that she would come again
+      some time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then at last when she was out in the open air, she drew a deep breath and
+      fled away to the woods, wondering what could be God's reason for such
+      things. It was not until she was half way up the hillside that she could
+      feel that the wind, which blew now upon her forehead, had quite swept away
+      the depression which had settled upon her. She drank in the odors which
+      blew from the woods, and began singing to herself again, and looking out
+      for Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was rather surprised not to see him at once, and still more surprised
+      when she came nearer and raised her voice to call him; for she reached the
+      forest and came to the place where she had left him without a reply having
+      come. She shouted his name again and again, until at last, not without a
+      half secret chagrin to have been so quickly forgotten, she was obliged to
+      set out for home alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps he's gone on ahead,&rdquo; she thought, quickening her pace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For a time she watched anxiously, expecting to see his darkly clad figure;
+      but she soon wearied of continued failure, and because it was her
+      birthday, and because the brook was still at her side and the beautiful
+      forest still about her, she took to singing again, and was quickly as
+      happy and glorious as before, ceasing her caroling and moderating her
+      woodland pace only when she neared the town. She passed down the main
+      street of Oakdale, not quite without an exulting consciousness that her
+      walk had crowned her beauty and that no one whom she saw was thinking
+      about anything else; and so she came to her home, to the dear old
+      parsonage, with its spreading ivy vines, and its two great elms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had hurried up the steps and shut the door behind her, Helen felt
+      privileged again to be just as merry as she chose, for she was even more
+      at home here than in the woods; it seemed as if everything were stretching
+      out its arms to her to welcome her, and to invite her to carry out her
+      declared purpose of taking the reins of government in her own hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upon one side of the hallway was a parlor, and on the other side two
+      rooms, which Mr. Davis had used as a reception room and a study. The
+      parlor had never been opened, and Helen promised herself a jolly time
+      superintending the fixing up of that; on the other side she had already
+      taken possession of the front room, symbolically at any rate, by having
+      her piano moved in and her music unpacked, and a case emptied for the
+      books she had brought from Germany. To be sure, on the other side was
+      still a dreary wall of theological treatises in funereal black, but Helen
+      was not without hopes that continued doses of cheerfulness might cure her
+      father of such incomprehensible habits, and obtain for her the permission
+      to move the books to the attic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To start things in that direction the girl now danced gaily into the study
+      where her father was in the act of writing &ldquo;thirdly, brethren,&rdquo; for his
+      next day's sermon; and crying out merrily,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Up, up my friend, and quit your books,
+  Or surely you'll grow double!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      she saluted her reverend father with the sweetest of kisses, and then
+      seated herself on the arm of his chair and gravely took his pen out of his
+      hand, and closed his inkstand. She turned over the &ldquo;thirdly, brethren,&rdquo;
+       without blotting it, and recited solemnly:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;One impulse from a vernal wood
+    May teach you more of man,
+  Of moral evil and of good.
+    Than all the sages can!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And then she laughed the merriest of merry laughs and added, &ldquo;Daddy, dear,
+      I am an impulse! And I want you to spare some time for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my love,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis, smiling upon her, though groaning inwardly
+      for his lost ideas. &ldquo;You are beautiful this morning, Helen. What have you
+      been doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've had a glorious walk,&rdquo; replied the girl, &ldquo;and all kinds of wonderful
+      adventures; I've had a dance with the morning wind, and a race of a mile
+      or two with a brook, and I've sung duets with all the flowers,&mdash;and
+      here you are writing uninteresting things!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's my sermon, Helen,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it,&rdquo; said Helen, gravely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it must be done for to-morrow,&rdquo; protested the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half your congregation is going to be so excited about two tallow candles
+      that it won't know what you preach about,&rdquo; answered the girl, swinging
+      herself on the arm of the chair; &ldquo;and I'm going to sing for the other
+      half, and so they won't care either. And besides, Daddy, I've got news to
+      tell you; you've no idea what a good girl I've been.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How, my love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went to see Mrs. Woodward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and it was just to show you how dutiful I'm going to be. Daddy, I
+      felt so sorry for the poor old lady; it is so beautiful to know that one
+      is doing good and bringing happiness into other people's lives! I think
+      I'll go and see her often, and carry her something nice if you'll let me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen said all that as gravely as a judge; but Mr. Davis was agreeing so
+      delightedly that she feared she was carrying the joke too far. She changed
+      the subject quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Daddy!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;I forgot to tell you&mdash;I met a genius
+      to-day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A genius?&rdquo; inquired the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;and I've been walking around with him all morning out
+      in the woods! Did you never hear that every place like that has a genius?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; assented Mr. Davis, &ldquo;but I don't understand your joke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This was the genius of Hilltown High School,&rdquo; laughed Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; will you believe it, the dear boy had walked all the way from there
+      to see me; and he waited out by the old seat at the spring!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But where is he now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;It's very queer; I left him to go see Mrs.
+      Woodward. He didn't go with me,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;I don't believe he felt
+      inclined to charity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not like Arthur,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to take him in hand, as becomes a clergyman's daughter,&rdquo; said
+      Helen demurely; &ldquo;I'm going to be a model daughter, Daddy&mdash;just you
+      wait and see! I'll visit all your parishioners' lawn-parties and five
+      o'clock teas for you, and I'll play Handel's Largo and Siegfried's Funeral
+      March whenever you want to write sermons. Won't you like that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis, dubiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only I know you'll make blots when I come to the cymbals,&rdquo; said Helen;
+      and she doubled up her fists and hummed the passage, and gave so realistic
+      an imitation of the cymbal-clashes in the great dirge that it almost upset
+      the chair. Afterwards she laughed one of her merriest laughs and kissed
+      her father on the forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard it at Baireuth,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and it was just fine! It made your
+      flesh creep all over you. And oh, Daddy, I brought home a souvenir of
+      Wagner's grave!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you?&rdquo; asked Mr. Davis, who knew very little about Wagner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;just a pebble I picked up near it; and you ought to
+      have seen the custom-house officer at the dock yesterday when he was going
+      through my trunks. 'What's this, Miss?' he asked; I guess he thought it
+      was a diamond in the rough. 'Oh, that's from Wagner's grave,' I said. And
+      what do you think the wretch did?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure I don't know, my love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He threw it back, saying it wasn't worth anything; I think he must have
+      been a Brahmsite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It took the longest time going through all my treasures,&rdquo; Helen prattled
+      on, after laughing at her own joke; &ldquo;you know Aunt Polly let us have
+      everything we wanted, bless her heart!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid Aunt Polly must have spoiled you,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has,&rdquo; laughed Helen; &ldquo;I really think she must mean to make me marry a
+      rich husband, or else she'd never have left me at that great rich school;
+      Lucy and I were the 'star-boarders' you know, and we just had everybody to
+      spoil us. How in the world could you ever manage to spare so much money,
+      Daddy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it was not so much,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis; &ldquo;things are cheaper abroad.&rdquo; (As
+      a matter of fact, the grimly resolute Aunt Polly had paid two-thirds of
+      her niece's expenses secretly, besides distributing pocket money with
+      lavish generosity.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you should see the wonderful dresses I've brought from Paris,&rdquo; Helen
+      went on. &ldquo;Oh, Daddy, I tell you I shall be glorious! Aunt Polly's going to
+      invite a lot of people at her house next week to meet me, and I'm going to
+      wear the reddest of red, red dresses, and just shine like a lighthouse!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid,&rdquo; said the clergyman, surveying her with more pride than was
+      perhaps orthodox, &ldquo;I'm afraid you'll find it hard to be satisfied in this
+      poor little home of ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;I'll soon get used to it; and
+      besides, I've got plenty of things to fix it up with&mdash;if you'll only
+      get those dreadful theological works out of the front room! Daddy dear,
+      you can't imagine how hard it is to bring the Valkyries and Niebelungs
+      into a theological library.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll see what I can do, my love,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was silent for a few moments, perhaps wondering vaguely whether it was
+      well that this commanding young lady should have everything in the world
+      she desired; Helen, who had her share of penetration, probably divined the
+      thought, for she made haste to change the subject.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; she laughed, &ldquo;we got so interested in our chattering that we
+      forgot all about Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sure enough,&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;Pray where can he have gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; Helen said; &ldquo;it's strange. But poets are such queer
+      creatures!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur is a very splendid creature,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis. &ldquo;You have no idea,
+      Helen, how hard he has labored since you have been away. He carried off
+      all the honors at college, and they say he has written some good poetry. I
+      don't know much about that, but the people who know tell me so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be gloriously romantic to know a great poet,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;and
+      perhaps have him write poetry about you,&mdash;'Helen, thy beauty is to
+      me,' and 'Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss,' and all sorts of
+      things like that! He's coming to live with us this summer as usual, isn't
+      he, Daddy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;I presume he will. But where can he have
+      gone to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He acted very queerly,&rdquo; said the girl; and then suddenly a delighted
+      smile lit up her face. &ldquo;Oh, Daddy,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;do you know, I think
+      Arthur is in love!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In love!&rdquo; gasped Mr. Davis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, in love!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray, with whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure I can't imagine,&rdquo; said Helen gravely; &ldquo;but he seemed so
+      abstracted, and he seemed to have something to tell me. And then he ran
+      away!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very strange indeed,&rdquo; remarked the other. &ldquo;I shall have to speak
+      to him about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he doesn't come back soon, I'll go to look for him,&rdquo; said the girl;
+      &ldquo;I'm not going to let the water nixies run off with my Arthur; there are
+      such things in that stream, because the song I was singing about it says
+      so.&rdquo; And then she chanted as merrily as ever:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Why speak I of a murmur?
+    No murmur can it be;
+  The Nixies they are singing
+    'Neath the wave their melody!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you what,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis, rising from his chair as he
+      realized that the sermon had entirely vanished for the present. &ldquo;You may
+      go part of the way with me, and we'll stop in to see the Vails.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Vails!&rdquo; gasped Helen. (Mr. Vail was the village dairyman, whose farm
+      lay on the outskirts of the town; the village dairyman's family was not
+      one that Helen cared to visit.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My love,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis, &ldquo;poor Mrs. Vail has been very ill, and she has
+      three little children, you know. You told me that you liked to bring joy
+      wherever you could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but, Daddy,&rdquo; protested Helen, &ldquo;<i>those</i> children are <i>dirty!</i>
+      Ugh! I saw them as I came by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My love,&rdquo; answered the other, &ldquo;they are God's children none the less; and
+      we cannot always help such things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we <i>can</i>, Daddy; there is plenty of water in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course; but when the mother is ill, and the father in trouble!
+      For poor Mr. Vail has had no end of misfortune; he has no resource but the
+      little dairy, and three of his cows have been ill this spring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen's incorrigible mirth lighted up her face again. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried.
+      &ldquo;Is <i>that</i> it! I saw him struggling away at the pump as I came by;
+      but I had no idea it was anything so serious!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis looked grieved; Helen, when her first burst of glee had passed,
+      noticed it and changed her mood. She put her arms around her father's neck
+      and pressed her cheek against his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Daddy, dear,&rdquo; she said coaxingly, &ldquo;haven't I done charity enough for one
+      day? You will surfeit me at the start, and then I'll be just as little
+      fond of it as I was before. When I must let dirty children climb all over
+      me, I can dress for the occasion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; pleaded Mr. Davis, &ldquo;Godliness is placed before Cleanliness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; admitted Helen, &ldquo;and of course it is right for you to inculcate the
+      greater virtue; but I'm only a girl, and you mustn't expect sublimity from
+      me. You don't want to turn me into a president of sewing societies, like
+      that dreadful Mrs. Dale!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; protested the other, helplessly, &ldquo;I wish you would not always
+      refer to Mrs. Dale with that adjective; she is the best helper I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Daddy,&rdquo; said Helen, with the utmost solemnity; &ldquo;when I have a
+      dreadful eagle nose like hers, perhaps I can preside over meetings too.
+      But I can't now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not want you to, my love; but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if I have to cling by the weaker virtue of cleanliness just for a
+      little while, Daddy, you must not mind. I'll visit all your clean
+      parishioners for you,&mdash;parishioners like Aunt Polly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And before Mr. Davis could make another remark, the girl had skipped into
+      the other room to the piano; as her father went slowly out the door, the
+      echoes of the old house were laughing with the happy melody of Purcell's&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Nymphs and shepherds, come a-way, come a-way,
+  Nymphs and shepherds, come a-way, come a-way, Come,
+  come, come, come a-way!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;For you alone I strive to sing,
+    Oh, tell me how to woo!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      When Helen was left alone, she seated herself before her old music stand
+      which had been brought down to welcome her, and proceeded to glance over
+      and arrange the pieces she had learned and loved in her young girlhood.
+      Most of them made her smile, and when she reflected upon how difficult she
+      used to think them, she realized that now that it was over she was glad
+      for the German regime. Helen had accounted herself an accomplished pianist
+      when she went away, but she had met with new standards and learned to
+      think humbly of herself in the great home of music. She possessed a
+      genuine fondness for the art, however, and had devoted most of her three
+      years to it, so that she came home rejoicing in the possession of a
+      technic that was quite a mastership compared with any that she was likely
+      to meet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's thoughts did not dwell upon that very long at present, however;
+      she found herself thinking again about Arthur, and the unexpected ending
+      of her walk with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no idea he felt that way toward me,&rdquo; she mused, resting her chin in
+      her hand; &ldquo;what in the world am I going to do? Men are certainly most
+      inconvenient creatures; I thought I was doing everything in the world to
+      make him happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen turned to the music once more, but the memory of the figure she had
+      left sunken helplessly upon the forest seat stayed in her mind. &ldquo;I do
+      wonder if that can be why he did not wait for me,&rdquo; she thought,
+      shuddering,&mdash;&ldquo;if he was too wretched to see me again; what CAN I do?&rdquo;
+       She got up and began walking restlessly up and down the room for a few
+      minutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I ought to go and look for him,&rdquo; she mused; &ldquo;it was an hour or
+      two ago that I left him there;&rdquo; and Helen, after thinking the matter over,
+      had half turned to leave, when she heard a step outside and saw the door
+      open quickly. Even before she saw him she knew who it was, for only Arthur
+      would have entered without ringing the bell. After having pictured him
+      overcome by despair, it was rather a blow to her pride to see him, for he
+      entered flushed, and seemingly elated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, you've treated me nicely!&rdquo; she exclaimed, showing her vexation
+      in spite of herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will forgive me,&rdquo; said Arthur, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be too sure of it,&rdquo; Helen said; &ldquo;I looked for you everywhere, and I
+      am quite angry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was obeying your high command,&rdquo; the other replied, still smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My command? I told you to wait for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You told me something else,&rdquo; laughed Arthur. &ldquo;You spent all the morning
+      instructing me for it, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Helen. It was a broad and very much prolonged &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; for a
+      sudden light was dawning upon the girl; as it came her frown gave place to
+      a look of delight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been writing me a poem!&rdquo; she cried, eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you dear boy!&rdquo; Helen laughed. &ldquo;Then I do forgive you; but you ought
+      to have told me, for I had to walk home all alone, and I've been worrying
+      about you. I never once thought of the poem.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The muses call without warning,&rdquo; laughed Arthur, &ldquo;and one has to obey
+      them, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, oh!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;And so you've been wandering around the
+      woods all this time, making verses! And you've been waving your arms and
+      talking to yourself, and doing all sorts of crazy things, I know!&rdquo; Then as
+      she saw Arthur flush, she went on: &ldquo;I was sure of it! And you ran away so
+      that I wouldn't see you! Oh, I wish I'd known; I'd have hunted you up and
+      never come home until I'd found you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As was usual with Helen, her momentary vexation had gone like April rain,
+      and all her seriousness had vanished with it. She forgot all about the
+      last scene in the woods, and Arthur was once more the friend of her
+      girlhood, whom she might take by the hand when she chose, and with whom
+      she might be as free and happy as when she was alone with the flowers and
+      the wind. It seemed as if Arthur too had vented all his pent up emotion,
+      and returned to his natural cheerful self.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;did you put in all the things I told you about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I put all I could,&rdquo; said Arthur. &ldquo;That is a great deal to ask.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only want it to be full of life,&rdquo; laughed Helen. &ldquo;That's all I care
+      about; the man who wants to write springtime poetry for me must be wide
+      awake!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I read it to you?&rdquo; asked Arthur, hesitatingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;And read it as if you meant it; if I like
+      it I'll tell you so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wrote it for nothing but to please you&rdquo; was the reply, and Arthur took
+      a much bescrawled piece of paper from his pocket; the girl seated herself
+      upon the piano stool again and gazed up at him as he rested his elbow upon
+      the top of the piano and read his lines. There could not have been a
+      situation in which the young poet would have read them with more complete
+      happiness, and so it was a pleasure to watch him. And Helen's eyes
+      kindled, and her cheeks flushed brightly as she listened, for she found
+      that the verses had taken their imagery from her very lips.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  In the May-time's golden glory
+    Ere the quivering sun was high,
+  I heard the Wind of Morning
+    Through the laughing meadows fly;
+
+  In his passion-song was throbbing
+    All the madness of the May,
+  And he whispered: Thou hast labored;
+    Thou art weary; come away!
+
+  Thou shalt drink a fiery potion
+    For thy prisoned spirit's pain;
+  Thou shalt taste the ancient rapture
+    That thy soul has sought in vain.
+
+  I will tell thee of a maiden,
+    One who has thy longing fanned&mdash;
+  Spirit of the Forest Music&mdash;
+    Thou shalt take her by the hand,
+
+  Lightly by her rosy fingers
+    Trembling with her keen delight,
+  And her flying steps shall lead thee
+    Out upon the mountain's height;
+
+  To a dance undreamed of mortal
+    To the Bacchanal of Spring,&mdash;
+  Where in mystic joy united
+    Nature's bright-eyed creatures sing.
+
+  There the green things of the mountain,
+    Million-voiced, newly-born,
+  And the flowers of the valley
+    In their beauty's crimson morn;
+
+  There the winged winds of morning,
+    Spirits unresting, touched with fire,
+  And the streamlets, silver-throated,
+    They whose leaping steps ne'er tire!
+
+  Thou shalt see them, ever circling
+    Round about a rocky spring,
+  While the gaunt old forest-warriors
+    Madly their wide branches fling.
+
+  Thou shalt tread the whirling measure,
+    Bathe thee in its frenzied strife;
+  Thou shalt have a mighty memory
+    For thy spirit's after life.
+
+  Haste thee while thy heart is burning,
+    While thine eyes have strength to see;
+  Hark, behind yon blackening cloud-bank,
+    To the Storm-King's minstrelsy!
+
+  See, he stamps upon the mountains,
+    And he leaps the valleys high!
+  Now he smites his forest harp-strings,
+    And he sounds his thunder-cry:&mdash;
+
+  Waken, lift ye up, ye creatures,
+    Sing the song, each living thing!
+  Join ye in the mighty passion
+    Of the Symphony of Spring!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      And so the young poet finished, his cheeks fairly on fire, and, as he
+      gazed down at Helen, his hand trembling so that he could hardly hold the
+      paper. One glance told him that she was pleased, for the girl's face was
+      flushed like his own, and her eyes were sparkling with delight. Arthur's
+      heart gave a great throb within him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You like it!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Arthur, I do!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Oh, how glorious you must have been!&rdquo; And
+      trembling with girlish delight, she took the paper from his hand and
+      placed it in front of her on the music rack.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I should like to write music for it!&rdquo; she exclaimed; &ldquo;for those lines
+      about the Storm-King!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she read them aloud, clenching her hands and shaking her head, carried
+      away by the image they brought before her eyes. &ldquo;Oh, I should like music
+      for it!&rdquo; she cried again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know very much about poetry, you know,&rdquo; she added, laughing
+      excitedly. &ldquo;If it's about the things I like, I can't help thinking it's
+      fine. It's just the same with music,&mdash;if a man only makes it swift
+      and strong, so that it leaps and flies and never tires, that is all I care
+      about; and if he just keeps his trombones till the very last, he can carry
+      me off my feet though he makes the worst noise that ever was! It's the
+      same as a storm, you know, Arthur; do you remember how we used to go up on
+      our hillside when the great wind was coming, and when everything was
+      growing still and black; and how we used to watch the big clouds and the
+      sheets of rain, and run for home when we heard the thunder? Once when you
+      were away, Arthur, I didn't run, for I wanted to see what it was like; and
+      I stayed up there and saw it all, singing the 'Ride of the Valkyries,' and
+      pretending I was one of them and could gallop with the wind. For the wind
+      is fine, Arthur! It fills you so full of its power that you stretch out
+      your arms to it, and it makes you sing; and it comes, and it comes again,
+      stronger than ever, and it sweeps you on, just like a great mass of music.
+      And then it howls through the trees and it flies over the valleys,&mdash;that
+      was what you were thinking of, weren't you, Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen stopped, breathlessly, and gazed at him; her cheeks were
+      flushed, and her hands still tightly clasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Arthur, half mechanically, for he had lost himself in the
+      girl's enthusiasm, and felt the storm of his verses once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your poem made me think of that one time that was so gloriously,&rdquo; Helen
+      went on. &ldquo;For the rain was almost blinding, and I was drenched, but I did
+      not even know it. For oh, the thunder! Arthur, you've no idea what thunder
+      is like till you're near it! There fell one fearful bolt quite near me, a
+      great white, living thing, as thick as a man's body, and the crash of it
+      seemed to split the air. But oh, I didn't mind it a bit! 'Der Sanger
+      triumphirt in Wettern!' I think I was a real Valkyrie that time, and I
+      only wished that I might put it into music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl turned to the piano, and half in play struck a great rumbling
+      chord, that rolled and echoed through the room; she sounded it once more,
+      laughing aloud with glee. Arthur had sunk down upon a chair beside her,
+      and was bending forward, watching her with growing excitement. For again
+      and again Helen struck the keys with all the power of her arms, until they
+      seemed to give forth real storm and thunder; and as she went on with her
+      reckless play the mood grew upon her, and she lost herself in the vision
+      of the Storm-King sweeping through the sky. She poured out a great stream
+      of his wild music, singing away to herself excitedly in the meantime. And
+      as the rush continued and the fierce music swelled louder, the phantasy
+      took hold of the girl and carried her beyond herself. She seemed to become
+      the very demon of the storm, unbound and reckless; she smote the keys with
+      right royal strength, and the piano seemed a thing of life beneath her
+      touch. The pace became faster, and the thunder rattled and crashed more
+      wildly, and there awoke in the girl's soul a power of musical utterance
+      that she had never dreamed of in her life before. Her whole being was
+      swept away in ecstasy; her lips were moving excitedly, and her pulses were
+      leaping like mad. She seemed no longer to know of the young man beside
+      her, who was bent forward with clenched hands, carried beyond himself by
+      the sight of her exulting power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in the meantime, Helen's music was surging on, building itself up into
+      a great climax that swelled and soared and burst in a deafening thunder
+      crash; and while the air was still throbbing and echoing with it, the girl
+      joined to it her deep voice, grown suddenly conscious of new power:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;See, he stamps upon the mountains,
+    And he leaps the valleys high!
+  Now he smites his forest harp-strings,
+    And he sounds his thunder cry!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And as the cry came the girl laughed aloud, like a very Valkyrie indeed,
+      her laugh part of the music, and carried on by it; and then gradually as
+      the tempest swept on, the rolling thunder was lost in a march that was the
+      very tread of the Storm-King. And the march broadened, and the thunder
+      died out of it slowly, and all the wild confusion, and then it rose,
+      glorious and triumphant, and turned to a mighty pean, a mightier one than
+      ever Helen could have made. The thought of it had come to her as an
+      inspiration, and as a refuge, that the glory of her passion might not be
+      lost. The march had led her to it, and now it had taken her in its arms
+      and swept her away, as it had swept millions by its majesty. It was the
+      great Ninth Symphony Hymn:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Hail thee, Joy! From Heaven descending,
+    Daughter from Elysium!
+  Ecstasy our hearts inflaming,
+    To thy sacred shrine we come.
+  Thine enchantments bind together
+    Those whom custom's law divides;
+  All are brothers, all united,
+    Where thy gentle wing abides.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And Helen sang it as one possessed by it, as one made drunk with its glory&mdash;as
+      the very Goddess of Joy that she was. For the Storm-King and his legions
+      had fled, and another vision had come into her heart, a vision that every
+      one ought to carry with him when the great symphony is to be heard. He
+      should see the hall in Vienna where it was given for the last time in the
+      great master's life, and see the great master himself, the bowed and
+      broken figure that all musicians worship, standing up to conduct it; and
+      see him leading it through all its wild surging passion, almost too
+      frantic to be endured; and then, when the last towering climax has passed
+      and the music has ceased and the multitude at his back has burst forth
+      into its thundering shout, see the one pathetic figure standing there
+      aloft before all eyes and still blindly beating the time. There must have
+      been tears in the eyes of every man in that place to know the reason for
+      it,&mdash;that he from whose heart all their joy had come, he who was lord
+      and master of it, had never heard in his life and could never hope to hear
+      one sound of that music he had written, but must dwell a prisoner in
+      darkness and solitude forever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was the picture before Helen's eyes; she did not think of the fearful
+      tragedy of it&mdash;she had no feeling for tragedy, she knew no more about
+      suffering than a child just born. But joy she knew, and joy she was; she
+      was the multitude lifted up in its ecstasy, throbbing, burning and
+      triumphant, and she sang the great choruses, one after another, and the
+      piano beneath her fingers thundered and rang with the instrumental part.
+      Surely in all music there is no utterance of joy so sustained and so
+      overwhelming in its intensity as this; it is a frenzy almost more than man
+      can stand; it is joy more than human&mdash;the joy of existence:&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Pleasure every creature living
+    From kind Nature's breast receives;
+  Good and evil, all are seeking
+    For the rosy path she leaves.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And so the torrent of passionate exultation swept Helen onward with it
+      until the very end, the last frantic prestissimo chorus, and then she
+      sprang to her feet and flung up her hands with a cry. She stood thus for a
+      moment, glowing with exultation, and then she sank down again and sat
+      staring before her, the music still echoing through every fiber of her
+      soul, and the shouting multitude still surging before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For just how long that lasted, she knew not, but only that her wild mood
+      was gradually subsiding, and that she felt herself sinking back, as a bird
+      sinks after its flight; then suddenly she turned. Arthur was at her side,
+      and she gave a cry, for he had seized her hand in his, and was covering it
+      with burning kisses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur! Arthur!&rdquo; she gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man gazed up at her, and Helen remembered the scene in the
+      forest, and realized what she had done. She had shaken him to the very
+      depths of his being by the emotion which she had flung loose before him,
+      and he seemed beside himself at that moment, his hair disordered and his
+      forehead hot and flushed. He made a move as if to clasp the girl in his
+      arms, and Helen tore her hand loose by main force and sprang back to the
+      doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He clutched at a chair for support, and stood staring at her. For fully a
+      minute they remained thus, Helen trembling with alarm; then his head sank,
+      and he flung himself down upon the sofa, where he lay sobbing
+      passionately. Helen remained gazing at him with wide open and astonished
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; she exclaimed again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he did not hear her, for the cruel sobbing that shook his frame.
+      Helen, as soon as her first alarm had passed, came softly nearer, till she
+      stood by the sofa; but still he did not heed her, and she did not dare
+      even to put her hand upon his shoulder. She was afraid of him, her dearest
+      friend, and she knew not what to make of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; she whispered again, when he was silent for a moment. &ldquo;Please
+      speak to me, Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other gazed up at her with a look of such helpless despair and longing
+      upon his face that Helen was frightened still more. He had been sobbing as
+      if his heart would break, but his eyes were dry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man answered her hoarsely: &ldquo;Can you not see what is the matter,
+      Helen? I love you! And you drive me mad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl turned very pale, and lowered her eyes before his burning gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; the other went on impetuously, &ldquo;you will break my heart if you
+      treat me in this way. Do you not know that for three long years I have
+      been dreaming of you, and of the promise that you gave me? You told me
+      that you loved me, and that you always would love me! You told me that the
+      night before you went away; and you kissed me. All this time I have been
+      thinking of that kiss, and cherishing the memory of it, and waiting for
+      you to return. I have labored for no other reason, I have had no other
+      hope in the world; I have kept your image before me, and lived in it, and
+      worshiped before it, and the thought of you has been all that I had. When
+      I was tired and worn and ill I could only think of you and remember your
+      promise, and count the days before your return. And, oh, it has been so
+      long that I could not stand it! For weeks I have been so impatient, and so
+      filled with the thought of the day when I might see you again that I have
+      been helpless and half mad; for I thought that I should take your hand in
+      mine and claim your promise. And this morning I wandered about the woods
+      for hours, waiting for you to come. And see how you have treated me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He buried his face in his hands again, and Helen stood gazing at him,
+      breathing very fast with alarm, and unable to find a word to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he groaned, without looking up again, &ldquo;do you not know that you
+      are beautiful? Have you no heart? You fling your soul bare before me, and
+      you fill me with this fearful passion; you will drive me mad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Arthur,&rdquo; she protested, &ldquo;I could not think of you so; I thought of
+      you as my brother, and I meant to make you happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, then,&rdquo; he gasped, staring at her, &ldquo;tell me once for all. You do
+      <i>not</i> love me, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl answered with a frank gaze that was cruel, &ldquo;No, Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you can never love me? You take back the promise that you made me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you that I was only a child, Arthur; it has been a long time since
+      I have thought of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man choked back a sob. &ldquo;Oh, Helen, if you only knew what cruel
+      words those are,&rdquo; he groaned. &ldquo;I cannot bear them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gazed at her with his burning eyes, so that the girl lowered hers
+      again. &ldquo;Tell me!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;What am I to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can we not remain friends, just as we used to be?&rdquo; she asked pleadingly.
+      &ldquo;Can we not talk together and help each other as before? Oh, Arthur, I
+      thought you would come here to live all summer, and how I should like it!
+      Why can you not? Can you not let me play for you without&mdash;without&mdash;&rdquo;
+       and Helen stopped, and flushed a trifle; &ldquo;I do not know quite what to make
+      of you to-day,&rdquo; she added.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was speaking kindly, but to the man beside her with his burning heart,
+      her words were hard to hear; he stared at her, shuddering, and then
+      suddenly he clenched his hands and started to his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;there is but one thing. I must go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go?&rdquo; echoed Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I stay here and gaze at you I shall go mad with despair,&rdquo; he exclaimed
+      incoherently. &ldquo;Oh, I shall go mad! For I do love you, and you talk to me
+      as if I were a child! Helen, I must get this out of my heart in some way,
+      I cannot stay here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Arthur,&rdquo; the girl protested, &ldquo;I told father you would stay, and you
+      will make yourself ill, for you have walked all day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Every word she uttered was more torment to the other, for it showed him
+      how much his hopes were gone to wreck. He rushed across the room and
+      opened the door; then, however, he paused, as if that had cost him all his
+      resolution. He gazed at the girl with a look of unspeakable yearning, his
+      face white, and his limbs trembling beneath him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wish me to go, Helen?&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wish you!&rdquo; exclaimed Helen, who was watching him in alarm. &ldquo;Of course
+      not; I want you to stay and see father, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And hear you tell me that you do not love me! Oh, Helen, how can you say
+      it again? Can you not see what you have done to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; cried the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, what you have done to me! You have made me so that I dare not stay
+      near you. You <i>must</i> love me, Helen, oh, some time you must!&rdquo; And he
+      came toward her again, stretching out his arms to her. As she sprang back,
+      frowning, he stopped and stood for an instant, half sinking; then he
+      whirled about and darted out of the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was scarcely able to realize at first that he was gone, but when she
+      looked out she saw that he was already far down the street, walking
+      swiftly. For a moment she thought of calling him; but she checked herself,
+      and closed the door quietly instead, after which she walked slowly across
+      the room. In the center of it she stopped still, gazing in front of her
+      thoughtfully, and looking very grave indeed. &ldquo;That is dreadful,&rdquo; she said
+      slowly. &ldquo;I had no idea of such a thing. What in the world am I to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a tall mirror between the two windows of the room, and Helen
+      went toward it and stood in front of it, gazing earnestly at herself. &ldquo;Is
+      it true, then, that I am so very beautiful?&rdquo; she mused. &ldquo;And even Arthur
+      must fall in love with me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's face was still flushed with the glory of her ride with the
+      Storm-King; she smoothed back the long strands of golden hair that had
+      come loose, and then she looked at herself again. &ldquo;It is dreadful,&rdquo; she
+      said once more, half aloud, &ldquo;I do not think I ever felt so nervous in my
+      life, and I don't know what to do; everything I did to please him seemed
+      only to make him more miserable. I wanted him to be happy with me; I
+      wanted him to stay with me.&rdquo; And she walked away frowning, and seated
+      herself at the piano and began peevishly striking at the keys. &ldquo;I am going
+      to write to him and tell him that he must get over that dreadfulness,&rdquo; she
+      muttered after a while, &ldquo;and come back and be friends with me. Oakdale
+      will be too stupid without him all summer, and I should be miserable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was just rising impatiently when the front door opened and her father
+      came in, exclaiming in a cheery voice, &ldquo;Well, children!&rdquo; Then he stopped
+      in surprise. &ldquo;Why, someone told me Arthur was here!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's gone home again,&rdquo; said Helen, in a dissatisfied tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Home!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;To Hilltown?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I thought he was going to stay until tomorrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So did I,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;but he changed his mind and decided that he'd
+      better not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I am really disappointed,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis. &ldquo;I thought we should have
+      a little family party; I haven't seen Arthur for a month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is some important reason,&rdquo; said Helen&mdash;&ldquo;that's what he told
+      me, anyway.&rdquo; She did not want her father to have any idea of the true
+      reason, or to ask any inconvenient questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis would perhaps have done so, had he not something else on his
+      mind. &ldquo;By the way, Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I must ask you, what in the world was
+      that fearful noise you were making?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Noise?&rdquo; asked Helen, puzzled for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, yes; I met old Mr. Nelson coming down the street, and he said that
+      you were making a most dreadful racket upon the piano, and shouting, too,
+      and that there were a dozen people standing in the street, staring!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden wild thought occurred to Helen, and she whirled about. Sure
+      enough, she found the two windows of the room wide open; and that was too
+      much for her gravity; she flung herself upon the sofa and gave vent to
+      peal after peal of laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Daddy!&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;Oh, Daddy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis did not understand the joke, but he waited patiently, taking off
+      his gloves in the meantime. &ldquo;What it is, Helen?&rdquo; he enquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Daddy!&rdquo; exclaimed the girl again, and lifted herself up and turned
+      her laughing eyes upon him. &ldquo;And now I understand why inspired people have
+      to live in the country!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was it, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&mdash;it wasn't anything, Daddy, except that I was playing and singing
+      for Arthur, and I forgot to close the windows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must remember, my love, that you live in a clergyman's house,&rdquo; said
+      Mr. Davis. &ldquo;I have no objection to merriment, but it must be within
+      bounds. Mr. Nelson said that he did not know what to think was the
+      matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen made a wry face at the name; the Nelsons were a family of Methodists
+      who lived across the way. Methodists are people who take life seriously as
+      a rule, and Helen thought the Nelsons were very queer indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll bet he did know what to think,&rdquo; she chuckled, &ldquo;even if he didn't say
+      it; he thought that was just what to expect from a clergyman who had a
+      decanter of wine on his dinner table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis could not help smiling. And as for Helen, she was herself all
+      over again; for when her father had come in, she had about reached a point
+      where she could no longer bear to be serious and unhappy. As he went on to
+      ask her to be a little less reckless, Helen put her arms around him and
+      said, with the solemnity that she always wore when she was gayest: &ldquo;But,
+      Daddy, I don't know what I'm to do; you sent me to Germany to study music,
+      and if I'm never to play it&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but Helen; such frantic, dreadful noise!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Daddy, the Germans are emotional people, you know; no one would have
+      been in the least surprised at that in Germany; it was a hymn, Daddy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A hymn!&rdquo; gasped Mr. Davis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, honestly,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;It is a wonderful hymn. Every German knows
+      it nearly by heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis had as much knowledge of German music as might be expected of
+      one who had lived twenty years in the country and heard three hymns and an
+      anthem sung every Sunday by a volunteer choir. Helen's musical education,
+      as all her other education, had been superintended by Aunt Polly, and the
+      only idea that came to Mr. Davis' mind was of Wagner, whose name he had
+      heard people talk about in connection with noise and incoherency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I trust that is not the kind of hymn you are going to
+      sing to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; was the puzzled reply. &ldquo;I'll see what I can do, Daddy.
+      It's dreadfully hard to find anything in German music like the slow-going,
+      practical lives that we dull Yankees lead.&rdquo; Then a sudden idea occurred to
+      the girl, and she ran to the piano with a gleeful laugh: &ldquo;Just see, for
+      instance,&rdquo; she said, fumbling hurriedly amongst her music, &ldquo;I was playing
+      the Moonlight Sonata this morning, and that's a good instance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the kind of moonlight they have in Germany,&rdquo; she laughed when she
+      found it. After hammering out a few discords of her own she started
+      recklessly into the incomprehensible &ldquo;presto,&rdquo; thundering away at every
+      crescendo as if to break her fingers. &ldquo;Isn't it fine, Daddy?&rdquo; she cried,
+      gazing over her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see what it has to do with the moon,&rdquo; said the clergyman, gazing
+      helplessly at the open window, and wondering if another crowd was
+      gathering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what everybody's been trying to find out!&rdquo; said Helen; then, as
+      she heard the dinner bell out in the hall, she ended with half a dozen
+      frantic runs, and jumping up with the last of them, took her father's arm
+      and danced out of the room with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps when we come to see the other side of the moon,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;we
+      may discover all about it. Or else it's because the moon is supposed to
+      set people crazy.&rdquo; So they passed in to dinner, where Helen was as
+      animated as ever, poor Arthur and his troubles seeming to have vanished
+      completely from her thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact, it was not until the meal was nearly over that she spoke of them
+      again; she noticed that it was growing dark outside, and she stepped to
+      the window just as a distant rumble of thunder was heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;There's a fearful storm coming, and poor Arthur
+      is out in it; he must be a long way from town by this time, and there is
+      no house where he can go.&rdquo; From the window where she stood she had a view
+      across the hills in back of the town, and could see the black clouds
+      coming swiftly on. &ldquo;It is like we were imagining this morning,&rdquo; she mused;
+      &ldquo;I wonder if he will think of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The dinner was over soon after that, and she looked out again, just as the
+      first drops of rain were falling; the thunder was rolling louder, bringing
+      to Helen a faint echo of her morning music. She went in and sat down at
+      the piano, her fingers roaming over the keys hesitatingly. &ldquo;I wish I could
+      get it again,&rdquo; she mused. &ldquo;It seems like a dream when I think of it, it
+      was so wild and so wonderful. Oh, if I could only remember that march!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There came a crash of thunder near by, as if to help her, but Helen found
+      that all efforts were in vain. Neither the storm music nor the march came
+      back to her, and even when she played a few chords of the great chorus she
+      had sung, it sounded tame and commonplace. Helen knew that the glory of
+      that morning was gone where goes the best inspiration of all humanity,
+      back into nothingness and night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a shame,&rdquo; she thought, as she rose discontentedly from the piano.
+      &ldquo;I never was so carried away by music in my life, and the memory of it
+      would have kept me happy for weeks, if Arthur hadn't been here to trouble
+      me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, however, as she went to the window again to watch the storm which
+      was now raging in all its majesty, she added more unselfishly: &ldquo;Poor boy!
+      It is dreadful to think of him being out in it.&rdquo; She saw a bolt of
+      lightning strike in the distance, and she waited breathlessly for the
+      thunder. It was a fearful crash, and it made her blood run faster, and her
+      eyes sparkle. &ldquo;My!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;But it's fine!&rdquo; And then she added
+      with a laugh, &ldquo;He can correct his poem by it, if he wants to!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned to go upstairs. On the way she stopped with a rather
+      conscience-stricken look, and said to herself, &ldquo;Poor fellow! It seems a
+      shame to be happy!&rdquo; She stood for a moment thinking, but then she added,
+      &ldquo;Yet I declare, I don't know what to do for him; it surely isn't my fault
+      if I am not in love with him in that mad fashion, and I don't see why I
+      should make myself wretched about it!&rdquo; Having thus silenced her
+      conscience, she went up to unpack her trunks, humming to herself on the
+      way:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Sir Knight, a faithful sister's love
+    This heart devotes to thee;
+  I pray thee ask no other love,
+    For pain that causes me.
+
+  &ldquo;Quiet would I see thee come,
+    And quiet see thee go;
+  The silent weeping of thine eyes
+    I cannot bear to know.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      While she was singing Arthur was in the midst of the tempest, staggering
+      towards his home ten miles away. He was drenched by the cold rain, and
+      shivering and almost fainting from exhaustion&mdash;for he had eaten
+      nothing since early dawn; yet so wretched and sick at heart was he that he
+      felt nothing, and scarcely heard the storm or realized where he was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay?
+  Proputty, proputty, proputty&mdash;that's what I 'ears 'em saay.
+
+  But I knawed a Quaaker feller as often 'as towd ma this:
+  'Doant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen had much to do to keep her busy during the next few days. She had in
+      the first place to receive visits from nearly everybody in Oakdale, for
+      she was a general favorite in the town, and besides that everyone was
+      curious to see what effect the trip had had upon her beauty and
+      accomplishments. Then too, she had the unpacking of an incredible number
+      of trunks; it was true that Helen, having been a favored boarder at an
+      aristocratic seminary, was not in the habit of doing anything troublesome
+      herself, but she considered it necessary to superintend the servant. Last
+      of all there was a great event at the house of her aunt, Mrs. Roberts, to
+      be anticipated and prepared for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It has been said that the marriage of Mr. Davis had been a second romance
+      in that worthy man's career, he having had the fortune to win the love of
+      a daughter of a very wealthy family which lived near Oakdale. The parents
+      had of course been bitterly opposed to the match, but the girl had had her
+      way. Unfortunately, however, the lovers, or at any rate the bride, having
+      been without any real idea of duty or sacrifice, the match had proved one
+      of those that serve to justify the opinions of people who are &ldquo;sensible;&rdquo;
+       the young wife, wearying of the lot she had chosen, had sunk into a state
+      of peevish discontent from which death came to relieve her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of this prodigal daughter Aunt Polly was the elder, and wiser, sister. She
+      had never ceased to urge upon the other, both before and after marriage,
+      the folly of her conduct, and had lived herself to be a proof of her own
+      more excellent sense, having married a wealthy stockbroker who proved a
+      good investment, trebling his own capital and hers in a few years. Aunt
+      Polly therefore had a fine home upon Madison Avenue in New York, and a
+      most aristocratic country-seat a few miles from Oakdale, together with the
+      privilege of frequenting the best society in New York, and of choosing her
+      friends amongst the most wealthy in the neighborhood of the little town.
+      This superiority to her erring sister had probably been one of the causes
+      that had contributed to develop the most prominent trait in her character&mdash;which
+      is perhaps the most prominent trait of high society in general&mdash;a
+      complete satisfaction with the world she knew, and what she knew about it,
+      and the part she played in it. For the rest, Aunt Polly was one of those
+      bustling little women who rule the world in almost everything, because the
+      world finds it is too much trouble to oppose them. She had assumed, and
+      had generally succeeded in having recognized, a complete superiority to
+      Mr. Davis in her knowledge about life, with the result that, as has been
+      stated, the education of the one child of the unfortunate marriage had
+      been managed by her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When, therefore, Helen had come off the steamer, it had been Mrs. Roberts
+      who was there to meet her; and the arrangement announced was that the girl
+      was to have three days to spend with her father, and was then to come for
+      a week or two at her aunt's, who was just opening her country home and who
+      intended to invite a score of people whom she considered, for reasons of
+      her own, proper persons for her niece to meet. Mrs. Roberts spoke very
+      condescendingly indeed of the company which Helen met at her father's, Mr.
+      Davis having his own opinions about the duty of a clergyman toward the
+      non-aristocratic members of his flock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The arrangement, it is scarcely necessary to say, pleased Helen very much
+      indeed; the atmosphere of luxury and easy superiority which she found at
+      her aunt's was much to her taste, and she looked forward to being a center
+      of attraction there with the keenest delight. In the meantime, however,
+      she slaked her thirst for happiness just as well at Oakdale, accepting
+      with queenly grace the homage of all who came to lay their presents at her
+      feet. Sunday proved to be a day of triumph, for all the town had come to
+      church, and was as much stirred by the glory of her singing as Arthur had
+      predicted. After the service everyone waited to tell her about it, and so
+      she was radiant indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By Tuesday, however, all that had come to seem a trifling matter, for that
+      afternoon Aunt Polly was to come, and a new world was to be opened for her
+      conquest. Helen was amusing herself by sorting out the motley collection
+      of souvenirs and curios which she had brought home to decorate her room,
+      when she heard a carriage drive up at the door, and a minute later heard
+      the voice of Mrs. Roberts' footman in the hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts herself did not alight, and Helen kept her waiting only long
+      enough to slip on her hat, and to bid her father a hurried farewell. In a
+      minute more she was in the carriage, and was being borne in state down the
+      main street of Oakdale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are beautiful to-day, my dear,&rdquo; said her aunt, beaming upon her; &ldquo;I
+      hope you are all ready for your triumph.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;I've about seen everybody and everything I
+      wanted to at home; I've been wonderfully happy, Auntie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is right, my dear,&rdquo; said Aunt Polly. &ldquo;You have certainly every cause
+      to be, and you would be foolish not to make the most of it. But I should
+      think this town would seem a somewhat less important place to you, after
+      all that you have seen of the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it does a little,&rdquo; laughed Helen, &ldquo;but it seemed good to see all the
+      old people again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Someone told me they saw Arthur here on Saturday,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;Did
+      you see <i>him?</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;that's what he came for. You can fancy how glad I
+      was to meet him. I spent a couple of hours walking in the woods with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts' look of dismay may be imagined; it was far too great for her
+      to hide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he now?&rdquo; she asked, hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he has gone home,&rdquo; said Helen; and she added, smiling, &ldquo;he went on
+      Saturday afternoon, because he's writing a poem about thunderstorms, and
+      he wanted to study that one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other was sufficiently convinced of the irresponsibility of poets to
+      be half uncertain whether Helen was joking or not; it was very frequently
+      difficult to tell, anyway, for Helen would look serious and amuse herself
+      by watching another person's mystification&mdash;a trait of character
+      which would have been intolerable in anyone less fascinating than she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps Aunt Polly thought something of that as she sat and watched the
+      girl. Aunt Polly was a little woman who looked as if she herself might
+      have once made some pretense to being a belle, but she was very humble
+      before Helen. &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;every minute that I watch you, I am
+      astonished to see how wonderfully you have grown. Do you know, Helen, you
+      are glorious!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, smiling delightedly. &ldquo;Isn't it nice, Aunt Polly? I'm so
+      glad I'm beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You funny child,&rdquo; laughed the other. &ldquo;What a queer thing to say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I not to know I am beautiful?&rdquo; inquired Helen, looking at her with
+      open eyes. &ldquo;Why, dear me! I can look at myself in the glass and be just as
+      happy as anyone else; I love everything beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Polly beamed upon her. &ldquo;I am glad of it, my dear,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;I
+      only wish I could say something to you to make you realize what your
+      wonderful beauty means.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How, Aunt Polly?&rdquo; asked the girl. &ldquo;Have you been reading poetry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;not exactly; but you know very well in your heart
+      what hopes I have for you, Helen, and I only wish you could appreciate the
+      gift that has been given you, and not fling it away in any foolish
+      fashion. With your talents and your education, my dear, there is almost
+      nothing that you might not do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, with all of her seriousness, &ldquo;I often think of it;
+      perhaps, Auntie, I might become a poetess!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other looked aghast. Helen had seen the look on her aunt's face at the
+      mention of her walk with Arthur, and being a young lady of electrical wit,
+      had understood just what it meant, and just how the rest of the
+      conversation was intended to bear upon the matter; with that advantage she
+      was quite in her glory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you can never tell; just suppose, for
+      instance, I were to fall in love with and marry a man of wonderful genius,
+      who would help me to devote myself to art? It would not make any
+      difference, you know, if he were poor&mdash;we could struggle and help
+      each other. And oh, I tell you, if I were to meet such a man, and to know
+      that he loved me truly, and to have proof that he could remember me and be
+      true to me, even when I was far away, oh, I tell you, nothing could ever
+      keep me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was declaiming her glowing speech with real fervor, her hands
+      dramatically outstretched. But she could not get any further, for the look
+      of utter horror upon her auditor's face was too much for her; she dropped
+      her hands and made the air echo with her laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Aunt Polly, you goose!&rdquo; she cried, flinging one arm about her, &ldquo;have
+      you really forgotten me that much in three years?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other was so relieved at the happy denouement of that fearful tragedy
+      that she could only protest, &ldquo;Helen, Helen, why do you fool me so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you fool me, or try to,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;When you have a sermon to
+      preach on the impropriety of walking in the woods alone with a susceptible
+      young poet, I wish you'd mount formally into the pulpit and begin with the
+      text.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; laughed the other, &ldquo;you are too quick; but I must confess&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you must,&rdquo; said the girl; and she folded her hands meekly and
+      looked grave. &ldquo;And now I am ready; and if you meet with any difficulties
+      in the course of your sermon, I've an expert at home who has preached one
+      hundred and four every year for twenty years, all genuine and no two
+      alike.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;I do wish you would talk seriously with me. You
+      are old enough to be your own mistress now, and to do as you please, but
+      you ought to realize that I have seen the world more than you, and that my
+      advice is worth something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell it to me,&rdquo; said Helen, ceasing to laugh, and leaning back in the
+      carriage and gazing at her aunt. &ldquo;What do you want me to do, now that I am
+      home? I will be really serious if you wish me to, for that does interest
+      me. I suppose that my education is finished?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;it ought to be, certainly; you have had every
+      advantage that a girl can have, a great deal more than I ever had. And you
+      owe it all to me, Helen,&mdash;you do, really; if it hadn't been for my
+      insisting you'd have gotten all your education at Hilltown, and you'd have
+      played the piano and sung like Mary Nelson across the way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen shuddered, and felt that that was cause indeed for gratitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is true,&rdquo; said her aunt; &ldquo;I've taken as much interest in you as in any
+      one of my own children, and you must know it. It was for no reason at all
+      but that I saw what a wonderful woman you promised to become, and I was
+      anxious to help you to the social position that I thought you ought to
+      have. And now, Helen, the chance is yours if you care to take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am taking it, am I not?&rdquo; asked Helen; &ldquo;I'm going with you, and I shall
+      be just as charming as I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; said the other, smiling a little; &ldquo;but that is not exactly
+      what I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, my dear, you may enter good society a while by visiting me;
+      but that will not be permanently. You will have to marry into it, Helen
+      dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Marry!&rdquo; echoed the girl, taken aback. &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will wish to marry some time,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;and so you should
+      look forward to it and choose your course. With your charms, Helen, there
+      is almost nothing that you might not hope for; you must know yourself that
+      you could make any man fall in love with you that you wished. And you
+      ought to know also that if you only had wealth you could enter any
+      society; for you have good birth, and you will discover that you have more
+      knowledge and more wit than most of the people you meet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've discovered that already,&rdquo; said Helen, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All that you must do, my love,&rdquo; went on the other, &ldquo;is to realize what is
+      before you, and make up your mind to what you want. You know that your
+      tastes are not those of a poor woman; you have been accustomed to comfort,
+      and you need refinement and wealth; you could never be happy unless you
+      could entertain your friends properly, and live as you pleased.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don't want to marry a man just for his money,&rdquo; protested the girl,
+      not altogether pleased with her aunt's business-like view.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one wants you to,&rdquo; the other responded; &ldquo;you may marry for love if you
+      like; but it is not impossible to love a rich man, is it, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;I am satisfied as I am now. I do not want
+      to marry anybody. The very idea makes me shudder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not in the least anxious that you should,&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;You are
+      young, and you may choose your own time. All I am anxious for is that you
+      should realize the future that is before you. It is dreadful to me to
+      think that you might throw your precious chance away by some ridiculous
+      folly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen looked at her aunt for a moment, and then the irrepressible smile
+      broke out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, child?&rdquo; asked the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, except that I was thinking about how these thoughts were brought
+      up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apropos of my woodland walk with poor Arthur. Auntie, I do believe you're
+      afraid I'm going to fall in love with the dear fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Aunt Polly; &ldquo;it is not exactly that, for I'd never be able to
+      sleep at night if I thought you capable of anything quite so ghastly. But
+      we must have some care of what people will think, my dear Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly did have some very serious fears about the
+      matter, as has been hinted before; it was, perhaps, a kind of tribute to
+      the divine fire which even society's leaders pay. If it had been a
+      question of a person of her own sense and experience, the word &ldquo;genius&rdquo;
+       would have suggested no danger to Mrs. Roberts, but it was different with
+      a young and probably sentimental person like Helen, with her inflaming
+      beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;everybody understands my
+      intimacy with Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Helen dear,&rdquo; said the other, turning her keen glance upon her;
+      &ldquo;tell me the honest truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not in love with Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen answered her with her eyes very wide open: &ldquo;No, I certainly am
+      not in the least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the other drew secretly a great breath of relief. &ldquo;Is he in love with
+      you, Helen?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Helen thought of Arthur's departure, the question could not but bring a
+      smile. &ldquo;I&mdash;I'm afraid he is,&rdquo; she said.&mdash;&ldquo;a very little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a ridiculous impertinence!&rdquo; exclaimed the other, indignantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right, Auntie,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;he really can't help it, you
+      know.&rdquo; She paused for a moment, and then she went on: &ldquo;Such things used to
+      puzzle me when I was very young, and I used to think them quite exciting;
+      but I'm getting used to them now. All the men seem to fall in love with
+      me,&mdash;they do, honestly, and I don't know how in the world to help it.
+      They all will make themselves wretched, and I'm sure it isn't my fault. I
+      haven't told you anything about my German lovers, have I, Auntie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gracious, no!&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;were there any?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any?&rdquo; laughed the girl. &ldquo;I might have robbed the Emperor of a whole
+      colonel's staff, and the colonel at the head of it. But I'll tell you
+      about Johann, the funniest one of all; I think he really loved me more
+      than all the rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pray, who was Johann?&rdquo; asked Aunt Polly, thinking how fortunate it was
+      that she learned of these things only after the danger was over.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never will forget the first time I met him,&rdquo; laughed the girl, &ldquo;the
+      first day I went to the school. Johann was a little boy who opened the
+      door for me, and he stared at me as if he were in a trance; he had the
+      most wonderful round eyes, and puffy red cheeks that made me always think
+      I'd happened to ring the bell while he was eating; and every time after
+      that he saw me for three years he used to gaze at me in the same helpless
+      wonder, with all lingers of his fat little hands wide apart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a disagreeable wretch!&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not in the least,&rdquo; laughed Helen; &ldquo;I liked him. But the funniest part
+      came afterwards, for when I came away Johann had grown a whole foot, and
+      was quite a man. I sent for him to put the straps on my trunks, and guess
+      what he did! He stared at me for a minute, just the same as ever, and then
+      he ran out of the room, blubbering like a baby; and that's the last I ever
+      saw of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was laughing as she told the story, but then she stopped and looked
+      a little conscience-stricken. &ldquo;Do you know, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it is
+      really a dreadful thing to make people unhappy like that; I suppose poor
+      Johann had spent three whole years dreaming about the enchanted castle in
+      which I was to be fairy princess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a good chance for a romantic marriage,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl, laughing again; &ldquo;I tried to fancy it. He'd have kept
+      a Wirthshaus, I suppose, and I'd have served the guests; and Arthur might
+      have come, and I'd have cut Butterbrod for him and he could have been my
+      Werther! Wouldn't Arthur have made a fine Werther, though, Aunt Polly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And blown his brains out afterwards,&rdquo; added the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;brains are too scarce; I'd rather have him follow
+      Goethe's example and write a book about it instead. You know I don't
+      believe half the things these poets tell you, for I think they put
+      themselves through their dreadful experiences just to tell about them and
+      make themselves famous. Don't you believe that, Auntie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said the other (a statement which she seldom made). &ldquo;I
+      don't know much about such things. Nobody reads poetry any more, you know,
+      Helen, and it doesn't really help one along very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn't do any harm, does it?&rdquo; inquired the girl, smiling to herself,
+      &ldquo;just a little, once in a while?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, of course not,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;I believe that a woman ought to
+      have a broad education, for she never knows what may be the whims of the
+      men she meets, or what turn a conversation may take. All I'm afraid of,
+      Helen, is that if you fill your mind with sentimental ideas you might be
+      so silly as to fancy that you were doing something romantic in throwing
+      your one great chance away upon some worthless nobody. I want you to
+      realize what you are, Helen, and that you owe something to yourself, and
+      to your family, too; for the Roberts have always had wealth and position
+      until your mother chose to marry a poor man. What I warn you of now is
+      exactly what I warned her of. Your father is a good man, but he had
+      absolutely nothing to make your mother happy; she was cut off from
+      everything she had been used to,&mdash;she could not even keep a carriage.
+      And of course she could not receive her old friends, very few of them
+      cared to have anything more to do with her, and so she simply pined away
+      in discontentment and miserable poverty. You have had an easy life, Helen,
+      and you have no idea of what a horrible thing it is to be poor; you have
+      had the best of teachers, and you have lived at an expensive school, and
+      of course you have always had me to rely upon to introduce you to the
+      right people; but if you married a poor man you couldn't expect to keep
+      any of those advantages. I don't speak of your marrying a man who had no
+      money at all, for that would be too fearful to talk about; but suppose you
+      were to take any one of the young men you might meet at Oakdale even,
+      you'd have to live in a mean little house, and do with one or two
+      servants, and worry yourself about the butcher's bills and brush your own
+      dresses and drive your own horse. And how long do you suppose it would be
+      before you repented of that? Think of having to be like those poor Masons,
+      for instance; they are nice people, and I like them, but I hate to go
+      there, for every time I can't help seeing that the parlor furniture is
+      more dingy, and thinking how miserable they must be, not to be able to buy
+      new things. And their servants' liveries are half worn too; and when you
+      dine there you see that Mrs. Mason is eating with a plated fork, because
+      she has not enough of her best silver to go around. All those things are
+      trifles, Helen, but think of the worry they must give those poor people,
+      who are pinching themselves and wearing themselves out soul and body,
+      trying to keep in the station where they belong, or used to. Poor Mrs.
+      Mason is pale and nervous and wrinkled at forty, and those three poor
+      girls, who spend their time making over their old dresses, are so
+      dowdy-looking and uneasy that no man ever glances at them twice. It is
+      such misery as that which I dread for you, Helen, and why I am talking to
+      you. There is no reason why you should take upon you such sorrows; you
+      have a clear head, and you can think for yourself and make up your mind
+      about things if you only won't blind yourself by foolish sentimentality.
+      You have been brought up to a certain station in life, and no man has a
+      right to offer himself to you unless he can maintain you in that station.
+      There is really no scarcity of such men, Helen, and you'd have no trouble
+      in finding one. There are hundreds of men in New York who are worth
+      millions, and who would fling themselves and their wealth at your feet if
+      you would have them. And you would find such a difference between the
+      opportunities of pleasure and command that such a chance would give you
+      and the narrow life that you lead in this little town that you would
+      wonder how you could ever have been satisfied. It is difficult for you to
+      realize what I mean, my dear, because you have only a schoolgirl's
+      knowledge of life and its pleasures, but when you are in the world, and
+      have learned what power is, and what it means to possess such beauty as
+      yours, you will feel your heart swelling with a new pleasure, and you will
+      thank me for what I tell you. I have figured a wonderful triumph for you,
+      Helen, and it is time you knew what is before you. Of what use is your
+      beauty, if you do not carry it into a wide enough sphere, where it can
+      bring you the admiration and homage you deserve? You need such a field,
+      Helen, to discover your own powers in; believe me, my dear, there is
+      really a higher ambition in the world than to be a country clergyman's
+      daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any higher than being happy, Auntie?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The importance of that observation was beyond the other's ken, as indeed
+      it was beyond Helen's also; she had thrown it out as a chance remark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Roberts and I were talking about this last night,&rdquo; went on Aunt
+      Polly, &ldquo;and he told me that I ought to talk seriously to you about it, and
+      get you to realize what a golden future is before you. For it is really
+      true, Helen, as sure as you can trust what I know about the world, that
+      you can have absolutely anything that you want. That is the long and short
+      of the matter&mdash;anything that you want! And why should you not have
+      the very best that life can give you? Why should you have to know that
+      other people dwell in finer houses than yours, and are free from cares
+      that make you ill? Why should you have the humiliation of being looked
+      down upon and scorned by other people? Are these other people more
+      entitled to luxury than you, or more able to enjoy it; or could anyone do
+      it more honor than you? You are beautiful beyond telling; you have every
+      gift that a woman can ask to complete enjoyment of life; you are perfect,
+      Helen, you are really perfect! You <i>must</i> know that; you must say it
+      to yourself when you are alone, and know that your life ought to be a
+      queenly triumph. You have only to stretch out your arms and everything
+      will come to you; and there is really and truly no end to the happiness
+      you can taste.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was gazing at the other with real earnestness, and the words were
+      sinking deep into her soul, deeper than words generally sunk there. She
+      felt her cheeks burning, and her frame stirred by a new emotion; she had
+      seldom before thought of anything but the happiness of the hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just think of it, my love,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Roberts, &ldquo;and know that that
+      is what your old auntie was thinking of when you were only a little tiny
+      girl, sitting upon her knee, and when you were so beautiful that artists
+      used to beg to have you pose for them. I never said anything about it
+      then, because you were too young to understand these things; but now that
+      you are to manage yourself, I have been waiting for a chance to tell you,
+      so that you may see what a prize is yours if you are only wise. And if you
+      wonder why I have cared so much and thought so much of what might be
+      yours, the only reason I can give is that you are my niece, and that I
+      felt that any triumph you might win would be mine. I want you to win a
+      higher place in the world than mine, Helen; I never had such a gift as
+      yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was silent for a minute, deeply thoughtful.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Auntie,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;and is it really true, then, that a woman
+      is to train herself and grow beautiful and to have so much trouble and
+      money spent upon her&mdash;only for her marriage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why of course, Helen; what else can a woman do? Unless you have money and
+      a husband you cannot possibly hope to accomplish anything in society. With
+      your talents and your beauty you might go anywhere and rule anywhere, but
+      you have to have money before you can even begin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But where am I to meet such a rich man, Aunt Polly?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know perfectly well where. Do you suppose that after I have worried
+      myself about you all this time I mean to desert you now, when you are at
+      the very climax of your glory, when you are all that I ever dared dream
+      of? My dear Helen, I am more interested in you just now than in anything
+      else in the world. I feel as a card player feels when millions are at
+      stake, and when he knows that he holds the perfect hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very nice,&rdquo; said Helen, laughing nervously. &ldquo;But there is always
+      a chance of mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is none this time, Helen, for I am an old player, and I have been
+      picking and arranging my hand for long, long years; and you are the hand,
+      my love, and the greatest glory of it all must be yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's heart was throbbing still faster with excitement, as if she were
+      already tasting the wonderful triumph that was before her; her aunt was
+      watching her closely, noting how the blood was mounting to her bright
+      cheeks. The girl felt herself suddenly choking with her pent up
+      excitement, and she stretched out her arms with a strange laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Auntie,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you tell me too much at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other had been marshaling her forces like a general during the last
+      few minutes, and she felt just then as if there were nothing left but the
+      rout. &ldquo;All that I tell you, you may see for yourself,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I don't
+      ask you to take anything on my word, for you have only to look in the
+      glass and compare yourself with the women you meet. You will find that all
+      men will turn their eyes upon you when you enter a room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen did not consider it necessary to debate that question. &ldquo;You have
+      invited some rich man to meet me at your house?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was going to say nothing to you about it at first,&rdquo; said the other,
+      &ldquo;and let you find out. But I thought afterwards that it would be better to
+      tell you, so that you could manage for yourself. I have invited all the
+      men whom Mr. Roberts and I thought it would be best for you to meet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gazed at her aunt silently for a moment, and then she broke into a
+      nervous laugh. &ldquo;A regular exposition!&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;and you'll bring them
+      out one by one and put them through their paces, won't you, Auntie? And
+      have them labeled for comparison,&mdash;so that I can tell just what
+      stocks they own and how they stand on the 'Street'! Do you remember the
+      suitor in Moliere?&mdash;<i>'J'ai quinze mille livres de rente; j'ai le
+      corps sain; j'ai des beaux dents!</i>'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a flash of Helen's old merriment, but it did not seem so natural as
+      usual, even to her. She forced herself to laugh, for she was growing more
+      and more excited and uneasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; said Aunt Polly, &ldquo;please do not begin making fun again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you must let me joke a little, Auntie,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;I have never
+      been serious for so long before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to be serious about it, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;I have really listened attentively; you must tell
+      me all about these rich men that I am to meet, and what I am to do. I hope
+      I am not the only girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; was the response; &ldquo;I would not do anything ridiculous. I
+      have invited a number of other girls&mdash;but they won't trouble you in
+      the least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;I am not afraid of other girls; but what's to be done?
+      It's a sort of house-warming, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;I suppose so, for I only came down last week
+      myself. I have asked about twenty people for a week or two; they all know
+      each other, more or less, so there won't be much formality. We shall amuse
+      ourselves with coaching and golf, and anything else we please; and of
+      course there will be plenty of music in the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen smiled at the significant tone of her aunt's voice. &ldquo;Are the people
+      there now?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Those who live anywhere in the neighborhood are; most of the men will be
+      down on the afternoon train, in time for dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And tell me who are the men, Auntie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid I won't have time,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, glancing out of the
+      carriage. &ldquo;We are too near home. But I will tell you about one of them, if
+      you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The king-bee?&rdquo; laughed Helen. &ldquo;Is there a king-bee?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts; &ldquo;there is. At any rate, my husband and I think
+      he is, and we are anxious to see what you think. His name is Gerald
+      Harrison, and he comes from Cincinnati.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;I hate to meet men from the West. He must be a
+      pork-packer, or something horrible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;he is a railroad president.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why do you think he's the king-bee; is he very rich?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is worth about ten million dollars,&rdquo; said Aunt Polly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gazed at her wildly. &ldquo;Ten million dollars!&rdquo; she gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;about that, probably a little more. Mr. Roberts
+      knows all about his affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was staring into her aunt's face. &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; she asked, very
+      nervously indeed. &ldquo;Tell me, honestly!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that the man you are bringing me here to meet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Helen,&rdquo; said the other quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl's hands were clasped tightly together just then. &ldquo;Aunt Polly,&rdquo;
+       she asked, &ldquo;what kind of a man is he? I will not marry a bad man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A bad man, child? How ridiculous! Do you suppose I would ask you to marry
+      a bad man, if he owned all New York? I want you to be happy. Mr. Harrison
+      is a man who has made his own fortune, and he is a man of tremendous
+      energy. Everyone is obliged to respect him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he must be old, Auntie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is very young, Helen, only about forty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;I could never marry a man as old as forty; and
+      then, I'd have to go out West!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Harrison has come to New York to live,&rdquo; was the other's reply. &ldquo;He
+      has just bought a really magnificent country seat about ten miles from
+      here&mdash;the old Everson place, if you remember it; and he is
+      negotiating for a house near ours in the city. My husband and I both
+      agreed, Helen, that if you could make Mr. Harrison fall in love with you
+      it would be all that we could desire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not the real problem,&rdquo; Helen said, gazing out of the carriage
+      with a frightened look upon her face; &ldquo;it is whether I can fall in love
+      with him. Aunt Polly, it is dreadful to me to think of marrying; I don't
+      want to marry! I don't care who the man is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll see about that later on,&rdquo; said the other, smiling reassuringly, and
+      at the same time putting her arm about the girl; &ldquo;there is no hurry, my
+      love, and no one has the least thought of asking you to do what you do not
+      want to do. But a chance like this does not come often to any girl, my
+      dear. Mr. Harrison is in every way a desirable man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But he's stupid, Aunt Polly, I know he's stupid! All self-made men are;
+      they tell you about how they made themselves, and what wonderful things
+      they hare made!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must of course not expect to find Mr. Harrison as cultured as
+      yourself, Helen,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;his education has been that of the
+      world, and not of books. But nobody thinks less of a man for that in the
+      world; the most one can ask is that he does not make pretenses. And he is
+      very far from stupid, I assure you, or he would not have been what he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose not,&rdquo; said Helen, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, besides,&rdquo; observed Aunt Polly, laughing to cheer the girl up, &ldquo;I
+      assure you it doesn't make any difference. My husband makes no pretense to
+      being a wit, or a musician, or anything like that; he's just a plain,
+      sensible man, but we get along as happily as you could wish. We each of us
+      go our own way, and understand each other perfectly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I'm to marry a plain, sensible man?&rdquo; asked the girl, apparently not
+      much comforted by the observation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A plain, sensible man with ten million dollars, my dear,&rdquo; said Aunt
+      Polly, &ldquo;who adores you and has nothing to do with his money but to let you
+      make yourself happy and glorious with it? But don't worry yourself, my
+      child, because the first thing for you to feel is that if you don't like
+      him you need not take him. It all rests upon you; he won't be here till
+      after the rest, till the evening train, so you can have time to think it
+      over and calculate whether ten million dollars will buy anything you
+      want.&rdquo; And Mrs. Roberts laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the carriage having passed within the gates of her home, she kissed
+      the girl upon her cheek. &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;if you want to meet a
+      romantic person to offset Mr. Harrison, I'll tell you about Mr. Howard. I
+      haven't mentioned him, have I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never heard of him,&rdquo; said Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a real romance,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;You didn't suppose that your
+      sensible old auntie could have a romance, did you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me about it,&rdquo; laughed Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage was driving up the broad avenue that led to the Roberts
+      house; it was a drive of a minute or two, however, and so Aunt Polly had
+      time for a hasty explanation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was over twenty years ago,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;before your mother was married,
+      and when our family had a camp up in the Adirondacks; there were only two
+      others near us, and in each of them there was a young man about my age. We
+      three were great friends for three or four years, but we've never seen
+      each other since till a short while ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And one of them is this man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts; &ldquo;his name is David Howard; I met him quite by
+      accident the other day, and recognized him. He lives all alone, in the
+      winter in New York somewheres, and in the summer up at the same place in
+      the mountains; he's the most romantic man you ever met, and I know you'll
+      find him interesting. He's a poet, I fancy, or a musician at any rate, and
+      he's a very great scholar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he rich too?&rdquo; asked the girl, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancy not,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;but I can't tell; he lives very plainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aren't you afraid I'll fall in love with him, Auntie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the other, smiling to herself; &ldquo;I'm not worrying about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait till you see him, my dear,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;if you choose him for a
+      husband I'll give my consent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That sounds mysterious,&rdquo; observed the girl, gazing at her aunt; &ldquo;tell me,
+      is he here now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Aunt Polly; &ldquo;he's been here a day or two; but I don't think
+      you'll see him at dinner, because he has been feeling unwell today; he may
+      be down a while this evening, for I've been telling him about you, and
+      he's anxious to see you. You must be nice to him, Helen, and try to feel
+      as sorry for him as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sorry for him?&rdquo; echoed the girl with a start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my dear, he is an invalid, with some very dreadful affliction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen stared at her aunt. &ldquo;An affliction!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Aunt Polly,
+      that is horrible! What in the world did you invite an invalid for at this
+      time, with all the other people? I <i>hate</i> invalids!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had asked him before,&rdquo; was the apologetic reply, &ldquo;and so I couldn't
+      help it. I had great difficulty in getting him to promise to come anyway,
+      for he's a very strange, solitary man. But I wanted to have my little
+      romance, and renew our acquaintance, and this was the only time the third
+      party could come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the third one is here too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will be in a day or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His name is Lieutenant Maynard, and he's in the navy; he's stationed at
+      Brooklyn just now, but he expects to get leave for a while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a little better,&rdquo; Helen remarked, as the carriage was drawing up
+      in front of the great house. &ldquo;I'd marry a naval officer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; laughed Aunt Polly; &ldquo;he leaves a wife and some children in Brooklyn.
+      We three are going to keep to ourselves and talk about old times and what
+      has happened to us since then, and so you young folks will not be troubled
+      by us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you will,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;for I can't ever be happy with
+      invalids.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And there, as the carriage door was opened, the conversation ended
+      abruptly. When Helen had sprung out she found that there were six or eight
+      people upon the piazza, to whom the excitement of being introduced drove
+      from her mind for a time all thoughts which her aunt's words had brought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me,
+    Without my stir.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Most of the people whom Helen met upon her arrival were of her own sex, so
+      that she did not feel called upon to make special exertions to please
+      them; but she was naturally cheerful and happy with everyone, and the
+      other matters of which Mrs. Roberts had talked took on such vast
+      proportions before her mind that it was a relief to her to put them aside
+      and enjoy herself for a while in her usual way. Helen was glad that most
+      of the men were to arrive later, so that she might make her appearance
+      before them under the most favorable circumstances. When she heard the
+      distant whistle of the afternoon train a couple of hours later, it was
+      with that thought that she retired to her room to rest before dressing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Polly, following her plan of accustoming the girl to a proper style
+      of living, had engaged a maid to attend her during her stay; and Helen
+      found therefore that her trunks were unpacked and everything in order. It
+      was a great relief to her to be rid of all care, and she took off her
+      dress and flung herself down upon the bed to think.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had imbided during her Sunday-school days the usual formulas of
+      dogmatic religion, but upon matters of morality her ideas were of the
+      vaguest possible description. The guide of her life had always been her
+      instinct for happiness, her &ldquo;genial sense of youth.&rdquo; She had never
+      formulated any rule of life to herself, but that which she sought was joy,
+      primarily for herself, and incidentally for other people, because unhappy
+      people were disturbing (unless it were possible to avoid them). In
+      debating within herself the arguments which her aunt had brought before
+      her mind, it was that principle chiefly by which she tested them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the girl's eager nature, keenly sensitive to pleasure and greedy for
+      it, the prospect so suddenly flung wide before her eyes was so
+      intoxicating that again and again as she thought of it it made her tremble
+      and burn. So far as Helen could see at that moment, a marriage with this
+      Mr. Harrison would mean the command of every source of happiness; and upon
+      a scale so magnificent, so belittling of everything she had known before,
+      that she shrank from it as something impossible and unnatural. Again and
+      again she buried her heated brow in her hands and muttered: &ldquo;I ought to
+      have known it before! I ought to have had time to realize it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That which restrained the girl from welcoming such an opportunity, from
+      clasping it to her in ecstasy and flinging herself madly into the whirl of
+      pleasure it held out, was not so much her conscience and the ideals which
+      she had formed more or less vaguely from the novels and poems she had
+      read, as the instinct of her maidenhood, which made her shrink from the
+      thought of marriage with a man whom she did not love. So strong was this
+      feeling in her that at first she felt that she could not even bear to be
+      introduced to him with such an idea in her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Aunt Polly's wisdom and diplomacy which finally overcame her
+      scruples enough to persuade her to that first step; Helen kept thinking of
+      her aunt's words&mdash;that no one wanted to compel her to marry the man,
+      that she might do just as she chose. She argued that it was foolish to
+      worry herself, or to be ill at ease. She might see what sort of a man he
+      was; if he fell in love with her it would do no harm,&mdash;Helen was not
+      long in discovering by the increased pace of her pulses that she would
+      find it exciting to have everyone know that a multimillionaire was in love
+      with her. &ldquo;As for the rest,&rdquo; she said to herself, &ldquo;we'll see when the time
+      comes,&rdquo; and knew not that one who goes to front his life's temptation with
+      that resolution is a mariner who leaves the steering of his vessel to the
+      tempest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had stilled her objection by such arguments, and was just beginning to
+      feel the excitement of the prospect once more, when the maid knocked at
+      the door and asked to know if mademoiselle were ready to dress for dinner.
+      And mademoiselle arose and bathed her face and arms and was once more her
+      old refreshed and rejoicing self, ready for that mysterious and wonderful
+      process which was to send her out an hour or two later a vision of
+      perfectness, compounded of the hues of the rose and the odors of evening,
+      with the new and unutterable magic that is all the woman's own. Besides
+      the prospects her aunt had spoken of, there were reasons enough why Helen
+      should be radiant, for it was her first recognized appearance in high
+      society; and so she sat in front of the tall mirror and criticised every
+      detail of the coiffure which the maid prepared, and eyed by turns her
+      gleaming neck and shoulders and the wonderful dress, as yet unworn, which
+      shone from the bed through its covering of tissue paper; and was all the
+      time so filled with joy and delight that it was a pleasure to be near her.
+      Soon Aunt Polly, clad in plain black as a sign that she retired in favor
+      of Helen, came in to assist and superintend the toilet. So serious at the
+      task, and so filled with a sense of its importance and the issues that
+      were staked upon it was she and the maid also, that one would not dare
+      think of the humor of the situation if Helen herself had not broken the
+      spell by declaring that she felt like an Ashantee warrior being decked out
+      for battle with plumes and war paint, or like Rinaldo, or Amadis donning
+      his armor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen was in fact going to war, a war for which nature has been
+      training woman since the first fig-tree grew. She carried a bow strong as
+      the one of Ulysses, which no man could draw, and an arrow sharp as the
+      sunbeam and armed with a barb; for a helmet, beside her treasure of golden
+      hair, she wore one rose, set there with the art that conceals art, so that
+      it was no longer a red rose, but one more bright perfection that had come
+      to ripeness about the glowing maiden. Her dress was of the same color, a
+      color which when worn upon a woman is a challenge, crying abroad that here
+      is perfection beyond envy and beyond praise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the last touch was finished and Helen gazed upon herself, with her
+      bare shoulders and arms and her throat so soft and white, she knew that
+      she was, compared to all about her, a vision from another world. Chiefest
+      of all, she knew that neither arms and shoulders, nor robe, nor gleaming
+      hair, would ever be thought of when once the face that smiled upon her
+      with its serene perfectness had caught the eye; she knew that as usual,
+      men must start when they saw her, and never take their eyes from her. The
+      thought filled her with an exulting consciousness of power, and reared her
+      form with a new dignity, and made her chest heave and her cheeks burn with
+      yet a new beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When everything was ready, Aunt Polly's husband was called in to gaze upon
+      her. A little man was Aunt Polly's husband, with black side whiskers and a
+      head partly bald; a most quiet and unobtrusive person, looking just what
+      he had been represented,&mdash;a &ldquo;plain, sensible man,&rdquo; who attended to
+      his half of the family affairs, and left the other half to his wife. He
+      gazed upon Helen and blinked once or twice, as if blinded by so much
+      beauty, and then took the end of her fingers very lightly in his and
+      pronounced her &ldquo;absolutely perfect.&rdquo; &ldquo;And, my dear,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;it's after
+      seven, so perhaps we'd best descend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So he led the girl down to her triumph, to the handsome parlors of the
+      house where eight or ten men were strolling about. It was quite exciting
+      to Helen to meet them, for they were all strangers, and Aunt Polly had
+      apparently considered Mr. Harrison of so much importance that she had said
+      nothing about the others, leaving her niece at liberty to make what
+      speculations she pleased.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a brilliant company which was seated in the dining room a short
+      while later. As it was assembled in Helen's honor, Aunt Polly had taken
+      care to bring those who would please the girl, and represent high life and
+      luxury at its best; all of the guests were young, and therefore perfect.
+      The members of the &ldquo;smart set,&rdquo; when they have passed the third decade,
+      are apt to show signs of weariness; a little of their beauty and health is
+      gone, and some of their animation, and all of their joy,&mdash;so that one
+      may be led to ask himself if there be not really something wrong about
+      their views and ways of living. When they are young, however, they
+      represent the possibilities of the human animal in all things external. In
+      some wonderful way known only to themselves they have managed to
+      manipulate the laws of men so as to make men do for them all the hard and
+      painful tasks of life, so that they have no care but to make themselves as
+      beautiful and as clever and as generally excellent as selfishness can be.
+      Helen, of course, was not in the least troubled about the selfishness, and
+      she was quite satisfied with externals. She saw about her perfect toilets
+      and perfect manners; she saw everyone as happy as she liked everyone to
+      be; and the result was that her spirits took fire, and she was clever and
+      fascinating beyond even herself. She carried everything before her, and
+      performed the real feat of dominating the table by her beauty and
+      cleveness, without being either presumptuous or vain. Aunt Polly replied
+      to the delighted looks of her husband at the other end of the table, and
+      the two only wished that Mr. Harrison had been there then.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As a matter of fact, Helen had forgotten Mr. Harrison entirely, and he did
+      not come back to her mind until the dinner was almost over, when suddenly
+      she heard the bell ring. It was just the time that he was due to arrive,
+      and so she knew that she would see him in another half hour. In the
+      exultation of the present moment all of her hesitation was gone, and she
+      was as ready to meet him as her aunt could have wished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the party rose a few minutes later and went into the parlors again,
+      Helen was the first to enter, upon the arm of her neighbor. She was
+      thinking of Mr. Harrison; and as she glanced about her, she could not keep
+      from giving a slight start. Far down at the other end of the room she had
+      caught sight of the figure of a man, and her first thought had been that
+      it must be the millionaire. His frail, slender form was more than half
+      concealed by the cushions of the sofa upon which he was seated, but even
+      so, Helen could discover that he was a slight cripple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man rose as the party entered, and Aunt Polly went towards him; she
+      apparently expected her niece to follow and be introduced to the stranger,
+      but in the meantime the truth had occurred to Helen, that it must be the
+      Mr. Howard she had been told of; she turned to one side with her partner,
+      and began remarking the pictures in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she found opportunity, she glanced over and saw that the man had
+      seated himself on the sofa and was talking to Mrs. Roberts. He looked, as
+      Helen thought, all the invalid her aunt had described him to be, for his
+      face was white and very wan, so that it made her shudder. &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed to herself, &ldquo;I don't think such a man ought to go into public.&rdquo;
+       And she turned resolutely away, and set herself to the task of forgetting
+      him, which she very easily did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A merry party was soon gathered about her, rejoicing in the glory of her
+      presence, and listening to the stories which she told of her adventures in
+      Europe. Helen kept the circle well in hand that way, and was equally ready
+      when one of the young ladies turned the conversation off upon French
+      poetry in the hope of eclipsing her. Thus her animation continued without
+      rest until Mrs. Roberts escorted one of the guests to the piano to sing
+      for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's keeping me for Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; thought Helen, laughing mischievously
+      to herself; &ldquo;and I suppose she's picked out the worst musician first, so
+      as to build up a climax.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed as if that might have been the plan for a fact; the performer
+      sang part of Gluck's &ldquo;J'ai perdu mon Eurydice,&rdquo; in strange French, and in
+      a mournful voice which served very well to display the incompatibility of
+      the melody and the words. As it happened, however, Mistress Helen heard
+      not a word of the song, for it had scarcely begun before she turned her
+      eyes towards the doorway and caught sight of a figure that drove all other
+      ideas from her mind. Mr. Harrison had come at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a tall, dignified man, and Helen's first feeling was of relief to
+      discover that he was neither coarse-looking, nor even plain. He had rather
+      too bright a complexion, and rather too large a sandy mustache, but his
+      clothes fitted him, and he seemed to be at ease as he glanced about him
+      and waited in the doorway for the young lady at the piano to finish. While
+      the faint applause was still sounding he entered with Mrs. Roberts, moving
+      slowly across the room. &ldquo;And now!&rdquo; thought Helen, &ldquo;now for it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she expected, the two came towards her, and Mr. Harrison was presented;
+      Helen, who was on the watch with all her faculties, decided that he bore
+      that trial tolerably, for while his admiration of course showed itself, he
+      did not stare, and he was not embarrassed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a little late, I fear,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;have I missed much of the music?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;that was the first selection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of that,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      According to the laws which regulate the drifting of conversation, it was
+      next due that Helen should ask if he were fond of singing; and then that
+      he should answer that he was very fond of it, which he did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mrs. Roberts tells me you are a skillful musician,&rdquo; he added; &ldquo;I trust
+      that I shall hear you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen of course meant to play, and had devoted some thought to the
+      selection of her program; therefore she answered: &ldquo;Possibly; we shall see
+      by and by.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am told that you have been studying in Germany,&rdquo; was the next
+      observation. &ldquo;Do you like Germany?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;Only they made me work very hard at music, and
+      at everything else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is perhaps why you are a good player,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You ought to wait until you hear me,&rdquo; the girl replied, following his
+      example of choosing the most obvious thing to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear I am not much of a critic,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so the conversation drifted on for several minutes, Mr. Harrison's
+      remarks being so very uninspiring that his companion could find no way to
+      change the subject to anything worth talking about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Evidently,&rdquo; the girl thought, during a momentary lull, &ldquo;he has learned
+      all the rules of talking, and that's why he's at ease. But dear me, what
+      an awful prospect! It would kill me to have to do this often. But then, to
+      be sure I shan't see him in the day time, and in the evenings we should
+      not be at home. One doesn't have to be too intimate with one's husband, I
+      suppose. And then&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, &ldquo;that your aunt is coming to ask you to
+      play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was Aunt Polly's mission, for a fact, and Helen was much relieved,
+      for she had found herself quite helpless to lift the conversation out of
+      the slough of despond into which it had fallen; she wanted a little time
+      to collect her faculties and think of something clever to start with
+      again. When in answer to the request of Aunt Polly she arose and went to
+      the piano, the crushed feeling of course left her, and her serenity
+      returned; for Helen was at home at the piano, knowing that she could do
+      whatever she chose, and do it without effort. It was a stimulus to her
+      faculties to perceive that a general hush had fallen upon the room, and
+      that every eye was upon her; as she sat down, therefore, all her old
+      exultation was back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused a moment to collect herself, and gave one easy glance down the
+      room at the groups of people. She caught a glimpse as she did so of Mr.
+      Howard, who was still seated upon the sofa, leaning forward and resting
+      his chin in his hand and fixing his eyes upon her. At another time the
+      sight of his wan face might perhaps have annoyed the girl, but she was
+      carried beyond that just then by the excitement of the moment; her glance
+      came back to the piano, and feeling that everyone was attentive and
+      expectant, she began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen numbered in her repertoire a good many pieces that were hopelessly
+      beyond the technic of the average salon pianist, and she had chosen the
+      most formidable with which to astonish her hearers that evening. She had
+      her full share of that pleasure which people get from concerning
+      themselves with great things: a pleasure which is responsible for much of
+      the reading, and especially the discussing, of the world's great poets,
+      and which brings forth many lofty sentiments from the numerous class of
+      persons who combine idealism with vanity. Helen's selection was the first
+      movement of the &ldquo;Sonata Appassionata,&rdquo; and she was filled with a pleasing
+      sense of majesty and importance as she began. She liked the first theme
+      especially because it was striking and dignified and never failed to
+      attract attention; and in what followed there was room for every shading
+      of tone, from delicate softness that showed much feeling and sympathy, to
+      stunning fortissimos that made everyone stare. The girl was relieved of
+      any possible fear by the certainty that the composition was completely
+      beyond her hearers' understanding, and so she soon lost herself in her
+      task, and, as her excitement mounted, played with splendid spirit and
+      abandon. Her calculations proved entirely well made, for when she stopped
+      she received a real ovation, having genuinely astonished her hearers; and
+      she crossed the room, beaming radiantly upon everyone and acknowledging
+      their compliments, more assured of triumph than ever before. To cap the
+      climax, when she reached her seat she found Mr. Harrison betraying
+      completely his profound admiration, his gaze being riveted upon the
+      glowing girl as she sat down beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; he said, with evident sincerity, &ldquo;that was really
+      wonderful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you very much,&rdquo; said Helen, radiantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the most splendid piano playing I have ever heard in my life,&rdquo; the
+      other went on. &ldquo;Pray what was it that you played&mdash;something new?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; was the answer, &ldquo;it is very old indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, &ldquo;those old composers were very great men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, demurely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was astonished to see with what ease you played,&rdquo; the other continued,
+      &ldquo;and yet so marvelously fast! That must be a fearfully hard piece of music
+      to play.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;but it is quite exciting,&rdquo; she added, fanning
+      herself and laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was at the top of her being just then, and in perfect command of
+      things; she had no idea of letting herself be dragged down into the
+      commonplace again. &ldquo;I think it's about time I was fascinating him,&rdquo; she
+      said to herself, and she started in, full of merriment and life. Taking
+      her last remark as a cue, she told him funny stories about the
+      eccentricities of the sonata's great composer, how he would storm and rage
+      up and down his room like a madman, and how he hired a boy to pump water
+      over his head by the hour, in case of emergency.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Harrison remarked that it was funny how all musicians were such queer
+      chaps, but even that did not discourage Helen. She rattled on, quite as
+      supremely captivating as she had been at the dinner table, and as she saw
+      that her companion was yielding to her spell, the color mounted to her
+      cheeks and her blood flowed faster yet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is of the nature of such flame to feed itself, and Helen grew the more
+      exulting as she perceived her success,&mdash;and consequently all the more
+      irresistible. The eyes of the man were soon riveted upon the gorgeous
+      vision of loveliness before him, and the contagion of the girl's animation
+      showed itself even in him, for he brightened a little, and was clever
+      enough to startle himself. It was a new delight and stimulus to Helen to
+      perceive it, and she was soon swept away in much the same kind of nervous
+      delight as her phantasy with the thunderstorm. The sofa upon which the two
+      were seated had been somewhat apart from the rest, and so they had nothing
+      to disturb them. A short half hour fled by, during which Helen's daring
+      animation ruled everything, and at the end of which Mr. Harrison was quite
+      oblivious to everything about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were others, however, who were watching the affair; the keen-eyed
+      Aunt Polly was comprehending all with joy, but she was as ever calculating
+      and prudent, and she knew that Helen's monopoly of Mr. Harrison would soon
+      become unpleasantly conspicuous, especially as she had so far introduced
+      him to no one else. She felt that little would be lost by breaking the
+      spell, for what the girl was doing then she might do any time she chose;
+      and so after waiting a while longer she made her way unobtrusively over to
+      them and joined their conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen of course understood her aunt's meaning, and acquiesced; she kept on
+      laughing and talking for a minute or two more, and then at a lull in the
+      conversation she exclaimed: &ldquo;But I've been keeping Mr. Harrison here
+      talking to me, and nobody else has seen anything of him.&rdquo; And so Mr.
+      Harrison, inwardly anathematizing the rest of the company, was compelled
+      to go through a long series of handshakings, and finally to be drawn into
+      a group of young persons whose conversation seemed to him the most inane
+      he had ever heard in his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime someone else was giving a piano selection, one which Helen
+      had never heard, but which sounded to every one like a finger exercise
+      after her own meteoric flight; the girl sat half listening to it and half
+      waiting for her aunt to return, which Mrs. Roberts finally did, beaming
+      with gratitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My love,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;you are an angel; you have done better than I
+      ever dreamed of!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen felt her blood give a sudden leap that was not quite pleasant;
+      the surging thoughts that were in her mind at that moment brought back the
+      nervous trembling she had felt in the carriage, so that she leaned against
+      the sofa for support.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now listen, my dear,&rdquo; the other went swiftly on, perhaps divining the
+      girl's state, &ldquo;I want you to do a great favor for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was not that for you, Auntie?&rdquo; asked Helen, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my dear, that was for yourself. But this&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you to come and talk to my David Howard a little while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl gave a start, and turned a little paler. &ldquo;Aunt Polly,&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed, &ldquo;not now! He looks so ill, it makes me nervous even to see
+      him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Helen, my dear, that is nonsense,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;Mr. Howard is one
+      of the most interesting men you ever met. He knows more than all the
+      people in this room together, and you will forget he is an invalid when
+      you have talked to him a while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was, or wished to think herself, upon the heights of happiness just
+      then, and she shrunk more than ever from anything that was wretched. &ldquo;Not
+      now, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; she said, faintly. &ldquo;Please wait until&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my dear,&rdquo; said Aunt Polly, &ldquo;now is the very time; you will wish to
+      be with Mr. Harrison again soon. And you must meet Mr. Howard, for that is
+      what he came for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose then I'll have to,&rdquo; said Helen, knitting her brows; &ldquo;I'll
+      stroll over in a minute or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;and please try to get acquainted with him,
+      Helen, for I want you to like him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do my best,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;He won't talk about his ailments,
+      will he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the other, laughing, &ldquo;I fancy not. Talk to him about music&mdash;he's
+      a great musician, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And as her aunt left the room, Helen stole a side glance at the man, who
+      was alone upon the sofa just then. His chin was still resting in his hand,
+      and he was looking at Helen as before. As she glanced at him thus he
+      seemed to be all head, or rather all forehead, for his brow was very high
+      and white, and was set off by heavy black hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He does look interesting,&rdquo; the girl thought, as she forced a smile and
+      walked across the room; her aunt entered at the same time, as if by
+      accident, and the two approached Mr. Howard. As he saw them coming he
+      rose, with some effort as Helen noticed, and with a very slight look of
+      pain; it cost her some resolution to give the man her hand. In a minute or
+      two more, however, they were seated alone upon the sofa, Aunt Polly having
+      gone off with the remark to Helen that she had made Mr. Howard promise to
+      talk to her about music, and that they both knew too much about it for
+      her. &ldquo;You must tell Helen all about her playing,&rdquo; she added to him,
+      laughingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then Helen, to carry on the conversation, added, &ldquo;I should be very
+      much pleased if you would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid it is an ungracious task Mrs. Roberts has chosen me,&rdquo; the man
+      answered, smiling. &ldquo;Critics are not a popular race.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It depends upon the critics,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;They must be sincere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is just where they get into trouble,&rdquo; was the response.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks as if he were going to be chary with his praise,&rdquo; thought Helen,
+      feeling just the least bit uncomfortable. She thought for a moment, and
+      then said, not without truth, &ldquo;You pique my curiosity, Mr. Howard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My criticism could not be technical,&rdquo; said the other, smiling, again,
+      &ldquo;for I am not a pianist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You play some other instrument?&rdquo; asked Helen; afterwards she added,
+      mischievously, &ldquo;or are you just a critic?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I play the violin,&rdquo; the man answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going to play for us this evening?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;I fear I shall not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; Helen inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not been feeling very well to-day,&rdquo; was the response. &ldquo;But I have
+      promised your aunt to play some evening; we had quite a long dispute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not like to play in public?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The question was a perfectly natural one, but it happened unfortunately
+      that as the girl asked it her glance rested upon the figure of her
+      companion. The man chanced to look at her at the same instant, and she saw
+      in a flash that her thought had been misread. Helen colored with the most
+      painful mortification; but Mr. Howard gave, to her surprise, no sign of
+      offense.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not in general,&rdquo; he said, with simple dignity. &ldquo;I believe that I am
+      much better equipped as a listener.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had never seen more perfect self-possession than that, and she felt
+      quite humbled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been difficult to guess the age of the man beside her, but
+      Helen noticed that his hair was slightly gray. A closer view had only
+      served to strengthen her first impression of him, that he was all head,
+      and she found herself thinking that if that had been all of him he might
+      have been handsome, tho in a strange, uncomfortable way. The broad
+      forehead seemed more prominent than ever, and the dark eyes seemed fairly
+      to shine from beneath it. The rest of the face, tho wan, was as powerful
+      and massive as the brow, and seemed to Helen, little used as she was to
+      think of such things, to indicate character as well as suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It looks a little like Arthur's,&rdquo; she thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This she had been noticing in the course of the conversation; then,
+      because her curiosity had really been piqued, she brought back the
+      original topic again. &ldquo;You have not told me about my playing,&rdquo; she smiled,
+      &ldquo;and I wish for your opinion. I am very vain, you know.&rdquo; (There is wisdom
+      in avowing a weakness which you wish others to think you do not possess.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It gave me great pleasure to watch you,&rdquo; said the man, after a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To watch me!&rdquo; thought Helen. &ldquo;That is a palpable evasion. That is not
+      criticising my music itself,&rdquo; she said aloud, not showing that she was a
+      trifle annoyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have evidently been very well taught,&rdquo; said the other,&mdash;&ldquo;unusually
+      well; and you have a very considerable technic.&rdquo; And Helen was only more
+      uncomfortable than ever; evidently the man would have liked to add a &ldquo;but&rdquo;
+       to that sentence, and the girl felt as if she had come near an icicle in
+      the course of her evening's triumph. However, she was now still more
+      curious to hear the rest of his opinion. Half convinced yet that it must
+      be favorable in the end, she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should not in the least mind your speaking plainly; the admiration of
+      people who do not understand music I really do not care for.&rdquo; And then as
+      Mr. Howard fixed his deep, clear eyes upon her, Helen involuntarily
+      lowered hers a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you really want my opinion,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;you shall have it. But
+      you must remember that it is yourself who leads me to the bad taste of
+      being serious in company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That last remark was in Helen's own style, and she looked interested. For
+      the rest, she felt that she had gotten into grave trouble by her question;
+      but it was too late to retreat now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will excuse you,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I wish to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard; &ldquo;the truth is that I did not care for
+      your selection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gave a slight start. &ldquo;If that is all the trouble, I need not worry,&rdquo;
+       she thought; and she added easily, &ldquo;The sonata is usually considered one
+      of Beethoven's very greatest works, Mr. Howard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am aware of that,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;but do you know how Beethoven came
+      to compose it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had the happy feeling of a person of moderate resources when the
+      conversation turns to one of his specialties. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I have
+      read how he said 'So pocht das Schicksal auf die Pforte.' [Footnote: &ldquo;So
+      knocks Fate upon the door.&rdquo;] Do you understand that, Mr. Howard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only partly,&rdquo; said the other, very gently; &ldquo;do you?&rdquo; And Helen felt just
+      then that she had made a very awkward blunder indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fate is a very dreadful thing to understand, Miss Davis,&rdquo; the other
+      continued, slowly. &ldquo;When one has heard the knock, he does not forget it,
+      and even the echo of it makes him tremble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose then,&rdquo; said Helen, glibly, trying to save herself, &ldquo;that you
+      think the sonata is too serious to be played in public?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not exactly,&rdquo; was the answer; &ldquo;it depends upon the circumstances. There
+      are always three persons concerned, you know. In this case, as you have
+      pardoned me for being serious, there is in the first place the great
+      genius with his sacred message; you know how he learned that his life work
+      was to be ruined by deafness, and how he poured his agony and despair into
+      his greatest symphony, and into this sonata. That is the first person,
+      Miss Davis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused for a moment; and Helen took a deep breath, thinking that it was
+      the strangest conversation she had ever been called upon to listen to
+      during an evening's merriment. Yet she did not smile, for the man's deep,
+      resonant voice fascinated her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the second?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The second,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard, turning his dark, sunken eyes full upon the
+      girl, &ldquo;is another man, not a genius, but one who has suffered, I fear,
+      nearly as much as one; a man who is very hungry for beauty, and very
+      impatient of insincerity, and who is accustomed to look to the great
+      masters of art for all his help and courage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen felt very uncomfortable indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Evidently,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I am the third.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard, &ldquo;the pianist is the third. It is the pianist's
+      place to take the great work and live it, and study it until he knows all
+      that it means; and then&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I took it quite so seriously as that,&rdquo; said Helen, with a
+      poor attempt at humility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard, gravely; &ldquo;it was made evident to me that you did
+      not by every note you played; for you treated it as if it had been a Liszt
+      show-piece.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was of course exceedingly angry at those last blunt words; but she
+      was too proud to let her vexation be observed. She felt that she had
+      gotten herself into the difficulty by asking for serious criticism, for
+      deep in her heart she knew that it was true, and that she would never have
+      dared to play the sonata had she known that a musician was present. Helen
+      felt completely humiliated, her few minutes' conversation having been
+      enough to put her out of humor with herself and all of her surroundings.
+      There was a long silence, in which she had time to think of what she had
+      heard; she felt in spite of herself the folly of what she had done, and
+      her whole triumph had suddenly come to look very small indeed; yet, as was
+      natural, she felt only anger against the man who had broken the spell and
+      destroyed her illusion. She was only the more irritated because she could
+      not find any ground upon which to blame him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been very difficult for her to have carried on the
+      conversation after that. Fortunately a diversion occurred, the young
+      person who had last played having gone to the piano again, this time with
+      a young man and a violin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Polly has found someone to take your place,&rdquo; said Helen, forcing a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;she told me we had another violinist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The violinist played Raff's Cavatina, a thing with which fiddlers all love
+      to exhibit themselves; he played it just a little off the key at times, as
+      Helen might have told by watching her companion's eyebrows. She in the
+      meantime was trying to recover her equanimity, and to think what else she
+      could say. &ldquo;He's the most uncomfortable man I ever met,&rdquo; she thought with
+      vexation. &ldquo;I wish I'd insisted upon keeping away from him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      However, Helen was again relieved from her plight by the fact that as the
+      fiddler stopped and the faint applause died out, she saw Mr. Harrison
+      coming towards her. Mr. Harrison had somehow succeeded in extricating
+      himself from the difficulty in which his hostess had placed him, and had
+      no doubt guessed that Helen was no better pleased with her new companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I join you?&rdquo; he asked, as he neared the sofa.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Helen, smiling; she introduced the two men, and Mr.
+      Harrison sat down upon the other side of the girl. Somehow or other he
+      seemed less endurable than he had just before, for his voice was not as
+      soft as Mr. Howard's, and now that Helen's animation was gone she was
+      again aware of the millionaire's very limited attainments.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was a very interesting thing we just heard,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What was it?
+      Do you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen answered that it was Raff's Cavatina.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cavatina?&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;The name sounds familiar; I may have heard
+      it before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen glanced nervously at Mr. Howard; but the latter gave no sign.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Howard is himself a violinist,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We must be careful what
+      criticisms we make.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I do not make any&mdash;I do not know enough about it,&rdquo; said the
+      other, with heartiness which somehow seemed to Helen to fail of deserving
+      the palliating epithet of &ldquo;bluff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Howard has just been telling me about my own playing,&rdquo; Helen went on,
+      growing a little desperate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope he admired it as much as I did,&rdquo; said the unfortunate
+      railroad-president.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid he didn't,&rdquo; said Helen, trying to turn the matter into a
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He didn't!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Harrison, in surprise. &ldquo;Pray, why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He asked the question of Mr. Howard, and Helen shuddered, for fear he
+      might begin with that dreadful &ldquo;There are always three persons concerned,
+      you know.&rdquo; But the man merely said, very quietly, &ldquo;My criticism was of
+      rather a technical nature, Mr. Harrison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sure, for my part I thought her playing wonderful,&rdquo; said the
+      gentleman from Cincinnati, to which the other did not reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen felt herself between two fires and her vexation was increasing every
+      moment; yet, try as she might, she could not think of anything to change
+      the subject, and it was fortunate that the watchful Aunt Polly was on hand
+      to save her. Mrs. Roberts was too diplomatic a person not to see the
+      unwisdom of putting Mr. Harrison in a position where his deficiencies must
+      be so very apparent, and so she came over, determined to carry one of the
+      two men away. She was relieved of the trouble by the fact that, as she
+      came near, Mr. Howard rose, again with some pain as it seemed to Helen,
+      and asked the girl to excuse him. &ldquo;I have been feeling quite ill today,&rdquo;
+       he explained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen, as she saw him walk away with Mrs. Roberts, sank back with a sigh
+      which was only half restrained. &ldquo;A very peculiar person,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Harrison, who was clever enough to divine her vexation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;very, indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seemed to be lecturing you about something, from what I saw,&rdquo; added
+      the other. The remark was far from being in the best taste, but it pleased
+      Helen, because it went to justify her to herself, and at the same time
+      offered her an opportunity to vent her feelings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It was about music; he was very much displeased with
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;I hope you do not let that disturb you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the girl, laughing,&mdash;&ldquo;or at any rate, I shall soon recover
+      my equanimity. It is very hard to please a man who plays himself, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or who says he plays,&rdquo; observed Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;He <i>didn't</i> play, you
+      notice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was pleased to fancy that there might be wisdom in the remark. &ldquo;Let
+      us change the subject,&rdquo; she said more cheerfully. &ldquo;It is best to forget
+      things that make one feel uncomfortable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll leave the finding of a new topic to you,&rdquo; replied the other, with
+      graciousness which did a little more to restore Helen's self-esteem. &ldquo;I
+      have a very humble opinion of my own conversation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like mine?&rdquo; the girl asked with a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do, indeed,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison with equally pleasing frankness. &ldquo;I was
+      as interested as could be in the story that you were telling me when we
+      were stopped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we'll begin where we left off!&rdquo; exclaimed Helen, and felt as if she
+      had suddenly discovered a doorway leading from a prison. She found it easy
+      to forget the recent events after that, and Mr. Harrison grew more
+      tolerable to her every moment now that the other was gone; her
+      self-possession came back to her quickly as she read his admiration in his
+      eyes. Besides that, it was impossible to forget for very long that Mr.
+      Harrison was a multi-millionaire, and the object of the envious glances of
+      every other girl in the room; and so when Aunt Polly returned a while
+      later she found the conversation between the two progressing very well,
+      and in fact almost as much enjoyed by both as it had been the first time.
+      After waiting a few minutes she came to ask Helen to sing for the company,
+      a treat which she had reserved until the last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's buoyant nature had by that time flung all her doubts behind her,
+      and this last excitement was all that was needed to sweep her away
+      entirely again. She went to the piano as exulting as ever in her command
+      of it and in the homage which it brought her. She sang an arrangement of
+      the &ldquo;Preislied,&rdquo; and she sang it with all the energy and enthusiasm she
+      possessed; partly because she had a really good voice and enjoyed the
+      song, and partly because an audience appreciates singing more easily than
+      any other kind of music. She really scored the success of the evening.
+      Everybody was as enthusiastic as the limits of good taste allowed, and
+      Helen was compelled, not in the least against her will, to sing again and
+      again. While she was laughing with happiness and triumph, something
+      brought, back &ldquo;Wohin&rdquo; to her mind, and she sang it again, quite as gaily
+      as she had sung it by the streamlet with Arthur. It was enough to delight
+      even the dullest, and perhaps if Mr. Howard had been there even he would
+      have applauded a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At any rate, as Helen rose from the piano she received a complete ovation,
+      everyone coming to her to thank her and to praise her, and to share in the
+      joy of her beauty; she herself had never been more radiant and more
+      exulting in all her exulting life, drinking in even Mr. Harrison's
+      rapturous compliments and finding nothing exaggerated in them. And in the
+      meantime, Aunt Polly having suggested a waltz to close the festivities,
+      the furniture was rapidly moved to one side, and the hostess herself took
+      her seat at the piano and struck up the &ldquo;Invitation to the Dance;&rdquo; Mr.
+      Harrison, who had been at Helen's side since her singing had ceased, was
+      of course her partner, and the girl, flushed and excited by all the homage
+      she had received, was soon waltzing delightedly in his arms. The man
+      danced well, fortunately for him, and that he was the beautiful girl's
+      ardent admirer was by this time evident, not only to Helen, but to
+      everyone else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the mood that she was then, the fact was as welcome to her as it could
+      possibly have been, and when, therefore, Mr. Harrison kept her arm and
+      begged for the next dance, and the next in turn, Helen was sufficiently
+      carried away to have no wish to refuse him; when after the third dance she
+      was tired out and sat down to rest, Mr. Harrison was still her companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was at the very height of her happiness then, every trace of her
+      former vexation gone, and likewise every trace of her objections to the
+      man beside her. The music was still sounding merrily, and everyone else
+      was dancing, so that her animation did not seem at all out of taste; and
+      so brilliant and fascinating had she become, and so completely enraptured
+      was Mr. Harrison, that he would probably have capitulated then and there
+      if the dancing had not ceased and the company separated when it did. The
+      end of all the excitement was a great disappointment to Helen; she was
+      completely happy just then, and would have gone just as far as the stream
+      had carried her. It being her first social experience was probably the
+      reason that she was less easily wearied than the rest; and besides, when
+      one has thus yielded to the sway of the senses, he dreads instinctively
+      the subsiding of the excitement and the awakening of reason.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The awakening, however, is one that must always come; Helen, having sent
+      away the maid, suddenly found herself standing alone in the middle of her
+      own room gazing at herself in the glass, and seeing a frightened look in
+      her eyes. The merry laughter of the guests ceased gradually, and silence
+      settled about the halls of the great house; but even then Helen did not
+      move. She was standing there still when her aunt came into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts was about as excited as was possible in a matron of her age
+      and dignity; she flung her arms rapturously around Helen, and clasped her
+      to her. &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;it was a triumph!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Auntie,&rdquo; said Helen, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You dear child, you!&rdquo; went on the other, laughing; &ldquo;I don't believe you
+      realize it yet! Do you know, Helen, that Mr. Harrison is madly in love
+      with you? You ought to be the happiest girl in the land tonight!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Auntie,&rdquo; said Helen again, still more weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come here, my dear,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, drawing her gently over to the
+      bed and sitting down beside her; &ldquo;you are a little dazed, I fancy, and I
+      do not blame you. I should have been beside myself at your age if such a
+      thing had happened to me; do you realize, child, what a fortune like Mr.
+      Harrison's is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;it is very hard, Aunt Polly. I'm afraid about it; I
+      must have some time to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Think!&rdquo; laughed the other. &ldquo;You queer child! My dear, do you actually
+      mean that you could think of refusing this chance of your lifetime?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said Helen, trembling; &ldquo;I don't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everybody'd think you were crazy, child! I know I should, for one.&rdquo; And
+      she added, coaxingly, &ldquo;Let me tell you what Mr. Roberts said.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, Auntie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He sent you in this message; he's a great person for doing generous
+      things, when he takes it into his head. He told me to tell you that if
+      you'd accept Mr. Harrison's offer he would give you the finest trousseau
+      that he could buy. Wasn't that splendid of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;thank him for me;&rdquo; and she shuddered. &ldquo;Don't talk to
+      me any more about it now, tho,&rdquo; she pleaded. &ldquo;Please don't, Aunt Polly. I
+      was so excited, and it was all like a dream, and I'm half dazed now; I
+      can't think about it, and I must think, somehow! It's too dreadful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shan't think about it tonight, child,&rdquo; laughed the other, &ldquo;for I want
+      you to sleep and be beautiful tomorrow. See,&rdquo; she added, beginning to
+      unfasten Helen's dress, &ldquo;I'm going to be your little mother tonight, and
+      put you to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so, soothing the girl and kissing her burning forehead and trying to
+      laugh away her fears, her delighted protectress undressed her, and did not
+      leave her until she had seen her in bed and kissed her again. &ldquo;And promise
+      me, child,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that you won't worry yourself tonight. Go to sleep,
+      and you'll have time to think tomorrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen promised that she would; but she did not keep her promise. She heard
+      the great clock in the hallway strike many times, and when the darkest
+      hours of the night had passed she was sitting up in bed and gazing about
+      her at the gray shadows in the room, holding the covering tightly about
+      her, because she was very cold; she was muttering nervously to herself,
+      half deliriously: &ldquo;No, no, I will not do it! They shall not <i>make</i> me
+      do it! I must have time to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And when at last she fell into a restless slumber, that thought was still
+      in her mind, and those words upon her lips: &ldquo;I will not do it; I must have
+      time to think!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      [Music: The opening passage of Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata.]
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
+  What them shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee; and
+  My strong imagination sees a crown
+  Dropping upon thy head.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      When Helen awoke upon the following morning, the resolution to withstand
+      her aunt's urging was still strong within her; as she strove to bring back
+      the swift events of the night before, the first discovery she made was a
+      headache and a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction that was new to
+      her. She arose and looked in the glass, and seeing that she was pale,
+      vowed again, &ldquo;They shall not torment me in this way! I do not even mean
+      that he shall propose to me; I must have time to realize it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so firm was she in her own mind that she rang the bell and sent the
+      maid to call her aunt. It was then only nine o'clock in the morning, and
+      Helen presumed that neither Mrs. Roberts nor any of the other guests would
+      be awake, they not being fresh from boarding school as she was; but the
+      girl was so nervous and restless, and so weighed upon by her urgent
+      resolution, that she felt she could do nothing else until she had declared
+      it and gotten rid of the matter. &ldquo;I'm going to tell her once for all,&rdquo; she
+      vowed; &ldquo;they shall not torment me any more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It turned out, however, that Mrs. Roberts had been up and dressed a
+      considerable time,&mdash;for a reason which, when Helen learned it,
+      prevented her delivering so quickly the speech she had upon her mind; she
+      noticed a worried expression upon her aunt's face as soon as the latter
+      came into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; she asked, in some surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very dreadful misfortune, my dear,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts; &ldquo;I don't know
+      how to tell you, you'll be so put out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was quite alarmed as she saw her aunt sink down into a chair; but
+      then it flashed over her that Mr. Harrison might have for some reason been
+      called away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it? Tell me!&rdquo; she asked eagerly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's Mr. Howard, my dear,&rdquo; said the other; and Helen frowned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, bother!&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;what about him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's been ill during the night,&rdquo; replied Aunt Polly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ill!&rdquo; exclaimed Helen. &ldquo;Dear me, what a nuisance!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor man,&rdquo; said the other, deprecatingly; &ldquo;he cannot help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; exclaimed Helen, &ldquo;but he ought not to be here. What is the matter
+      with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;but he has been suffering so all night
+      that the doctor has had to give him an opiate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The wan countenance of Mr. Howard rose up before Helen just then, and she
+      shuddered inwardly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me, what a state of affairs!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;It seems to me as if I
+      were to have nothing but fright and worry. Why should there be such things
+      in the world?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, Helen,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;but it is certainly inopportune
+      for you. Of course the company will all have to leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To leave!&rdquo; echoed Helen; she had never once thought of that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, of course,&rdquo; said her aunt. &ldquo;It would not be possible to enjoy
+      ourselves under such very dreadful circumstances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Aunt Polly, that is a shame!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;The idea of so many
+      people being inconvenienced for such a cause. Can't he be moved?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor declares it would be impossible at present, Helen, and it
+      would not look right anyway, you know. He will certainly have to remain
+      until he is better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how long will that be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A week, or perhaps more,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen saw that her promised holiday was ruined; her emotions, however,
+      were not all of disappointment, for though she was vexed at the
+      interruptions, she recollected with sudden relief that she could thus
+      obtain, and without so much effort of her own, the time to debate the
+      problem of Mr. Harrison. Also there was in her mind, if not exactly pity
+      for the invalid, at any rate the nearest to it that Helen had ever learned
+      to feel, an uncomfortable fright at the idea of such suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise you,&rdquo; said Aunt Polly, who had been watching her face and
+      trying to read her emotions, &ldquo;that we shall only postpone the good time I
+      meant to give you. You cannot possibly be more vexed about it than I, for
+      I was rejoicing in your triumph with Mr. Harrison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not worrying on that account,&rdquo; said Helen, angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, dear,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, pleadingly, &ldquo;what can be the matter with
+      you? I think anyone who was watching you and me would get the idea that I
+      was the one to whom the fortune is coming. I suppose that was only one of
+      your jokes, my dear, but I truly don't think you show a realization of
+      what a tremendous opportunity you have. You show much more lack of
+      experience than I had any idea could be possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't that, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; protested Helen; &ldquo;I realize it, but I want
+      time to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To think, Helen! But what is there to think? It seems to be madness to
+      trifle with such a chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will it be trifling to keep him waiting a while?&rdquo; asked Helen, laughing
+      in spite of her vexation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maybe not, my dear; but you ought to know that every other girl in this
+      house would snap him up at one second's notice. If you'd only seen them
+      watching you last night as I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw a little,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;But, Aunt Polly, is Mr. Harrison the
+      only man whom I can find?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My husband and I have been over the list of our acquaintances, and not
+      found anyone that can be compared with him for an instant, Helen. We know
+      of no one that would do for you that has half as much money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never said <i>he'd</i> do for me,&rdquo; said Helen, again laughing.
+      &ldquo;Understand me, Auntie,&rdquo; she added; &ldquo;it isn't that I'd not like the
+      fortune! If I could get it without its attachment&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my dear, you know you can never get any wealth except by marriage;
+      what is the use of talking such nonsense, even in fun?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, listen,&rdquo; objected Helen in turn; &ldquo;suppose I don't want such a great
+      fortune&mdash;suppose I should marry one of these other men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, if you only could know as much as I know about these things,&rdquo; said
+      Mrs. Roberts, &ldquo;if you only could know the difference between being in the
+      middle and at the top of the social ladder! Dear, why will you choose
+      anything but the best when you can have the best if you want it? I tell
+      you once for all I do not care how clever you are, or how beautiful you
+      are, the great people will look down on you for an upstart if you cannot
+      match them and make just as much of a show. And why can you not discover
+      what your own tastes are? I watched you last night, child; anyone could
+      have seen that you were in your element! You outshone everyone, Helen, and
+      you should do just the same all your life. Can you not see just what that
+      means to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Auntie,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;but then&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you not perfectly happy last night?&rdquo; interrupted the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; protested the other, &ldquo;that's just what I was going to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The only reason in the world why you are not, my dear, is that you were
+      tormenting yourself with foolish scruples. Can you not see that if you
+      once had the courage to rid yourself of them it would be all that you
+      need. Why are you so weak, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not weak!&rdquo; exclaimed the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; asserted Mrs. Roberts, &ldquo;I say it is weak. It is weak of you not to
+      comprehend what your life is to be, and what you need for your happiness.
+      It is a shame for you to make no use of the glorious gifts that are yours,
+      and to cramp and hinder all your own progress. I want you to have room to
+      show your true powers, Helen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had been leaning over the foot of the bed listening to her aunt,
+      stirred again by all her old emotion, and angry with herself for being
+      stirred; her unspoken resolution was not quite so steady as it had been,
+      tho like all good resolutions it remained in her mind to torment her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sprang up suddenly with a very nervous and forced laugh. &ldquo;I'm glad I
+      don't have to argue with you, Auntie,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and that I'm saved the
+      trouble of worrying myself ill. You see the Fates are on my side,&mdash;I
+      must have time to think, whether I want to or not.&rdquo; It was that comfort
+      which saved her from further struggle with herself upon the subject.
+      (Helen much preferred being happy to struggling.) She set hurriedly to
+      work to dress, for her aunt told her that the guests were nearly ready for
+      breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody could sleep since all the excitement,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I wonder it did
+      not wake you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was tired,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;I guess that was it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll find the breakfast rather a sombre repast,&rdquo; added Mrs. Roberts,
+      pathetically. &ldquo;I've been up nearly three hours myself, so frightened about
+      poor Mr. Howard; I had neveer seen anyone so dreadfully ill, and I was
+      quite certain he was in his death agony.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Polly!&rdquo; cried Helen with a sudden wild start, &ldquo;why do you talk like
+      that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't say any more about it,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;only hurry up. And put on
+      your best looks, my dear, for Mr. Harrison to carry away in his memory.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll do that much with pleasure,&rdquo; was the answer; &ldquo;and please have the
+      maid come up to pack my trunks again; for you won't want me to stay now,
+      of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, &ldquo;not unless you want to. Our house won't be a
+      very cheerful place, I fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll come back in a week or two, when you are ready for me,&rdquo; Helen added;
+      &ldquo;in the meantime I can be thinking about Mr. Harrison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was soon on her way downstairs, for it was terrifying to her to be
+      alone and in the neighborhood of Mr. Howard. She found a sombre gathering
+      indeed, for the guests spoke to each other only in half-whispers, and
+      there were few smiles to be seen. Helen found herself placed opposite Mr.
+      Harrison at the table, and she had a chance to study him by glances
+      through the meal. &ldquo;He's well dressed, anyway,&rdquo; she mused, &ldquo;and he isn't
+      altogether bad. I wonder if I'd <i>dare</i> to marry him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After breakfast Helen strolled out upon the piazza, perhaps with some
+      purpose in her mind; for it is not unpleasant to toy with a temptation,
+      even when one means to resist it. At any rate, she was a little excited
+      when she heard Mr. Harrison coming out to join her there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather a sad ending of our little party, wasn't it, Miss Davis?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered the girl, &ldquo;I feel so sorry for poor Mr. Howard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seemed to be rather ill last night,&rdquo; said the other. He was going to
+      add that the fact perhaps accounted for the invalid's severity, but he was
+      afraid of shocking Helen by his levity,&mdash;a not entirely necessary
+      precaution, unfortunately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going back to town this morning, with the others?&rdquo; Helen asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, somewhat to her surprise; &ldquo;I have a different
+      plan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens, does he suppose he's going to stay here with me?&rdquo; thought
+      the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I received your aunt's permission to ask you,&rdquo; continued Mr. Harrison,
+      &ldquo;and so I need only yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For what?&rdquo; Helen inquired, with varied emotions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To drive you over to Oakdale with my rig,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;I had it
+      brought down, you know, because I thought there might be a chance to use
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had turned slightly paler, and was staring in front of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you not fond of driving, then, Miss Davis?&rdquo; asked the other, as she
+      hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;but I don't like to trouble you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you it will be the greatest pleasure in the world,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Harrison; &ldquo;I only regret that I shall not be able to see more of you, Miss
+      Davis; it is only for the present, I hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Helen, still very faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I have a pair of horses that I am rather proud of,&rdquo; added Mr.
+      Harrison, laughing; &ldquo;I should like you to tell me what you think of them.
+      Will you give me the pleasure?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen could not hesitate very much longer without being rude. &ldquo;If you
+      really wish it, Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;very well.&rdquo; And then someone
+      else came out on the piazza and cut short the conversation; Helen had no
+      time to think any more about the matter, but she had a disagreeable
+      consciousness that her blood was flowing faster again, and that her old
+      agitation was back in all its strength. Soon afterwards Mrs. Roberts came
+      out and joined the two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Davis has granted me the very great favor,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison; &ldquo;I
+      fear I shall be happier than I ought to be, considering what suffering I
+      leave behind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will do no good to worry about it,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, a reflection
+      which often keeps the world from wasting its sympathy. &ldquo;I shall have your
+      carriage brought round.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't it rather early to start?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said her aunt; &ldquo;is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We can take a little drive if it is,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison; &ldquo;I mean that
+      Miss Davis shall think a great deal of my horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen said nothing, but stood gazing in front of her across the lawns, her
+      mind in a tempest of emotions. She could not put away from her the
+      excitement that Mr. Harrison's presence brought; the visions of wealth and
+      power which gleamed before her almost overwhelmed her with their vastness.
+      But she had also the memory of her morning resolve to trouble her
+      conscience; the result was the same confused helplessness, the dazed and
+      frightened feeling which she so rebelled against.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not <i>want</i> to be troubled in this way,&rdquo; she muttered angrily to
+      herself, again and again; &ldquo;I wish to be let alone, so that I can be
+      happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet there was no chance just then for her to find an instant's peace, or
+      time for further thought; there were half a dozen people about her, and
+      she was compelled to listen to and answer commonplace remarks about the
+      beauty of the country in front of her, and about her singing on the
+      previous evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had to stifle her agitation as best she could, and almost before she
+      realized it her aunt had come to summon her to get ready for the drive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen hoped to have a moment's quiet then; but there was nothing to be
+      done but put on her hat and gloves, and Mrs. Roberts was with her all the
+      time. &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; she said pleadingly, as she watched the girl surveying
+      herself in the glass, &ldquo;I do hope you will not forget all that I told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would let me alone about it!&rdquo; cried Helen, very peevishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you only knew, my dear girl, how much I have done for you,&rdquo; replied
+      the other, &ldquo;and how I've planned and looked forward to this time, I don't
+      think you'd answer me in that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't that, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; exclaimed Helen, &ldquo;but I am so confused and I
+      don't know what to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am trying my poor, humble best to show you what to think. And you could
+      not possibly feel more worried than I just now; Helen, you could be rid of
+      all these doubts and struggles in one instant, if you chose. Ask yourself
+      if it is not true; you have only to give yourself into the arms of the
+      happiness that calls you. And you never will get rid of the matter in any
+      other way,&mdash;indeed you will not! If you should fling away this
+      chance, the memory of it would never leave you all your life; after you
+      knew it was too late, you would torment yourself a thousand times more
+      than ever you can now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear, dear!&rdquo; cried Helen, half hysterically; &ldquo;I can't stand that,
+      Aunt Polly. I'll do anything, only let me alone! My head is aching to
+      split, and I don't know where I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you will never find another chance like it, Helen,&rdquo; went on the
+      other, with sledge-hammer remorselessness. &ldquo;For if you behave in this
+      perfectly insane way and lose this opportunity, I shall simply give you up
+      in despair at your perversity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I haven't said I was going to lose it,&rdquo; the girl exclaimed. &ldquo;He won't
+      be any the less in love with me if I make him wait, Aunt Polly!&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Harrison was going back to Cincinnati in a day or two,&rdquo; put in Mrs.
+      Roberts, swiftly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will stay if I wish him to,&rdquo; was the girl's reply. &ldquo;There is no need
+      for so much worry; one would think I was getting old.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Old!&rdquo; laughed the other. &ldquo;You are so beautiful this morning, Helen, that
+      I could fall in love with you myself.&rdquo; She turned the girl towards her,
+      seeing that her toilet was finished. &ldquo;I haven't a thought in the world,
+      dear, but to keep you so beautiful,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I hate to see you
+      tormenting yourself and making yourself so pale; why will you not take my
+      advice and fling all these worries aside and let yourself be happy? That
+      is all I want you to do, and it is so easy! Why is it that you do not want
+      to be happy? I like to see you smile, Helen!&rdquo; And Helen, who was tired of
+      struggling, made a wry attempt to oblige her, and then broke into a laugh
+      at herself. Meanwhile the other picked a rose from a great bunch of them
+      that lay upon the bureau, and pinned it upon her dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, child,&rdquo; she, said, &ldquo;he can never resist you now, I know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen kissed her excitedly upon the cheek, and darted quickly out of the
+      door, singing, in a brave attempt to bring back her old, merry self:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la-la, Have nothing to do with
+      the case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later, however, she recollected Mr. Howard and his misfortune,
+      and her heart sank; she ran quickly down the steps to get the thought of
+      him from her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was easy enough to forget him and all other troubles as well when she
+      was once outside upon the piazza; for there were plenty of happy people,
+      and everyone crowded about her to bid her good-by. There too was Mr.
+      Harrison standing upon the steps waiting for her, and there was his
+      driving-cart with two magnificent black horses, alert and eager for the
+      sport. Helen was not much of a judge of horses, having never had one of
+      her own to drive, but she had the eye of a person of aristocratic tastes
+      for what was in good form, and she saw that Mr. Harrison's turnout was all
+      of that, with another attraction for her, that it was daring; for the
+      horses were lithe, restless creatures, thoroughbreds, both of them; and it
+      looked as if they had not been out of the stable in a week. They were
+      giving the groom who held them all that he could do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Harrison held out his hand to the girl as she came down the steps, and
+      eyed her keenly to see if her flushed cheeks would betray any sign of
+      fear. But Helen's emotions were surging too strongly for such thoughts,
+      and she had, besides, a little of the thoroughbred nature herself. She
+      laughed gaily as she gave her hand to her companion and sprang into the
+      wagon; he followed her, and as he took the reins the groom sprang aside
+      and the two horses bounded away down the broad avenue. Helen turned once
+      to wave her hand in answer to the chorus of good-bys that sounded from the
+      porch, and then she faced about and sank back into the seat and drank in
+      with delight the fresh morning breeze that blew in her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I think this is fine!&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You like driving, then?&rdquo; asked the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes indeed,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I like this kind ever so much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait until we get out on the high-road,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, &ldquo;and then we
+      will see what we can do. I came from the West, you know, Miss Davis, so I
+      think I am wise on the subject of horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woods on either side sped by them, and Helen's emotions soon began to
+      flow faster. It was always easy for her to forget everything and lose
+      herself in feelings of joy and power, and it was especially easy when she
+      was as much wrought up as she was just then. It was again her ride with
+      the thunderstorm, and soon she felt as if she were being swept out into
+      the rejoicing and the victory once more. She might have realized, if she
+      had thought, that her joy was coming only because she was following her
+      aunt's advice, and yielding herself into the arms of her temptation; but
+      Helen was thoroughly tired of thinking; she wanted to feel, and again and
+      again she drank in deep breaths of the breeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only a minute or so before they passed the gates of the Roberts
+      place, and swept out of the woods and into the open country. It was really
+      inspiring then, for Mr. Harrison gave his horses the reins, and Helen was
+      compelled to hold on to her hat. He saw delight and laughter glowing in
+      her countenance as she watched the landscape that fled by them, with its
+      hillsides clad in their brightest green and with its fresh-plowed
+      farm-lands and snowy orchards; the clattering of the horses' hoofs and the
+      whirring of the wheels in the sandy road were music and inspiration such
+      as Helen longed for, and she would have sung with all her heart had she
+      been alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As was her way, she talked instead, with the same animation and glow that
+      had fascinated her companion upon the previous evening. She talked of the
+      sights that were about them, and when they came to the top of the hill and
+      paused to gaze around at the view, she told about her trip through the
+      Alps, and pictured the scenery to him, and narrated some of her
+      mountain-climbing adventures; and then Mr. Harrison, who must have been a
+      dull man indeed not to have felt the contagion of Helen's happiness, told
+      her about his own experiences in the Rockies, to which the girl listened
+      with genuine interest. Mr. Harrison's father, so he told her, had been a
+      station-agent of a little town in one of the wildest portions of the
+      mountains; he himself had begun as a railroad surveyor, and had risen step
+      by step by constant exertion and watchfulness. It was a story of a
+      self-made man, such as Helen had vowed to her aunt she could not bear to
+      listen to; yet she did not find it disagreeable just then. There was an
+      exciting story of a race with a rival road, to secure the right to the
+      best route across the mountains; Helen found it quite as exciting as
+      music, and said so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps it is a kind of music,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, laughing; &ldquo;it is the
+      only kind I have cared anything about, excepting yours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no idea people had to work so hard in the world,&rdquo; said Helen,
+      dodging the compliment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They do, unless they have someone else to do it for them,&rdquo; said the
+      other. &ldquo;It is a fierce race, nowadays, and a man has to watch and think
+      every minute of the time. But it is glorious to triumph.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen found herself already a little more in a position to realize what
+      ten million dollars amounted to, and very much more respectful and
+      awe-stricken in her relation to them. She was sufficiently oblivious to
+      the flight of time to be quite surprised when she gazed about her, and
+      discovered that they were within a couple of miles of home. &ldquo;I had no idea
+      of how quickly we were going,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not tired, then?&rdquo; asked the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No indeed,&rdquo; Helen answered, &ldquo;I enjoyed it ever so much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We might drive farther,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison; &ldquo;these horses are hardly
+      waked up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He reined them in a little and glanced at his watch. &ldquo;It's just eleven,&rdquo;
+       he said, &ldquo;I think there'd be time,&rdquo; and he turned to her with a smile.
+      &ldquo;Would you like to have an adventure?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I generally do,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking of a drive,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;one that we could just about
+      take and return by lunch-time; it is about ten miles from here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have just bought a country place near here,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;I
+      thought perhaps you would like to see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My aunt spoke of it,&rdquo; Helen answered; &ldquo;the Eversons' old home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other; &ldquo;you know it, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only saw it once in my life, when I was a very little girl,&rdquo; Helen
+      replied, &ldquo;and so I have only a dim recollection of its magnificence; the
+      old man who lived there never saw any company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It had to be sold because he failed in business,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison.
+      &ldquo;Would you like to drive over?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much,&rdquo; said Helen, and a minute later, when they came to a fork in
+      the road, they took the one which led them to &ldquo;Fairview,&rdquo; as the place was
+      called.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it a tremendously fine property myself,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison; &ldquo;I
+      made up my mind to have it the first time I saw it. I haven't seen
+      anything around here to equal it, and I hope to make a real English
+      country-seat out of it. I'll tell you about what I want to do when we get
+      there, and you can give me your advice; a man never has good taste, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to see it,&rdquo; answered Helen, smiling; &ldquo;I have a passion for
+      fixing up things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had an exciting time at the sale,&rdquo; went on Mr. Harrison reminiscently.
+      &ldquo;You know Mr. Everson's family wanted to keep the place themselves, and
+      the three or four branches of the family had clubbed together to buy it;
+      when the bidding got near the end, there was no one left but the family
+      and myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you got it?&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;How cruel!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The strongest wins,&rdquo; laughed the other. &ldquo;I had made up my mind to have
+      it. The Eversons are a very aristocratic family, aren't they?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;very, indeed; they have lived in this part of the
+      country since the Revolution.&rdquo; As Mr. Harrison went on to tell her the
+      story of the sale she found herself vividly reminded of what her aunt had
+      told her of the difference between having a good deal of money and all the
+      money one wanted. Perhaps, also, her companion was not without some such
+      vaguely felt purpose in the telling. At any rate, the girl was trembling
+      inwardly more and more at the prospect which was unfolding itself before
+      her; as excitement always acted upon her as a stimulant, she was at her
+      very best during the rest of the drive. She and her companion were
+      conversing very merrily indeed when Fairview was reached.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The very beginning of the place was imposing, for there was a high wall
+      along the roadway for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then two massive
+      iron gates set in great stone pillars; they were opened by the gate-keeper
+      in response to Mr. Harrison's call. Once inside the two had a drive of
+      some distance through what had once been a handsome park, though it was a
+      semi-wilderness then. The road ascended somewhat all the way, until the
+      end of the forest was reached, and the first view of the house was gained;
+      Helen could scarcely restrain a cry of pleasure as she saw it, for it was
+      really a magnificent old mansion, built of weather-beaten gray stone, and
+      standing upon a high plateau, surrounded by a lawn and shaded by half a
+      dozen great oaks; below it the lawn sloped in a broad terrace, and in the
+      valley thus formed gleamed a little trout-pond, set off at the back by a
+      thickly-wooded hillside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't it splendid!&rdquo; the girl exclaimed, gazing about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it was rather good,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, deprecatingly. &ldquo;It can
+      be made much finer, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you take your last year's hay crop from the lawn, for one thing,&rdquo;
+       laughed she. &ldquo;But I had no idea there was anything so beautiful near our
+      little Oakdale. Just look at that tremendous entrance!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's all built in royal style,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;The family must have
+      been wealthy in the old days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably slave-dealers, or something of that kind,&rdquo; observed Helen. &ldquo;Is
+      the house all furnished inside?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;but I expect to do most of it over. Wouldn't you
+      like to look?&rdquo; He asked the question as he saw the gate-keeper coming up
+      the road, presumably with the keys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl gazed about her dubiously; she would have liked to go in, except
+      that she was certain it would be improper. Helen had never had much
+      respect for the proprieties, however, being accustomed to rely upon her
+      own opinions of things; and in the present case, besides, she reflected
+      that no one would ever know anything about it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'd not have time to do more than glance around,&rdquo; continued the other,
+      &ldquo;but we might do that, if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, after a moment more of hesitation, &ldquo;I think I should.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her heart was beating very fast as the two ascended the great stone steps
+      and as the door opened before them; her mind could not but be filled with
+      the overwhelming thought that all that she saw might be hers if she really
+      wanted it. The mere imagining of Mr. Harrison's wealth had been enough to
+      make her thrill and burn, so it was to be expected that the actual
+      presence of some of it would not fail of its effect. It is to be observed
+      that the great Temptation took place upon a high mountain, where the
+      kingdoms of the earth could really be seen; and Helen as she gazed around
+      had the further knowledge that the broad landscape and palatial house,
+      which to her were almost too splendid to be real, were after all but a
+      slight trifle to her companion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl entered the great hallway, with its huge fireplace and its
+      winding stairway, and then strolled through the parlors of the vast house;
+      Helen had in all its fullness the woman's passion for spending money for
+      beautiful things, and it had been her chief woe in all her travels that
+      the furniture and pictures and tapestry which she gazed at with such keen
+      delight must be forever beyond her thoughts. Just at present her fancy was
+      turned loose and madly reveling in these memories, while always above her
+      wildest flights was the intoxicating certainty that there was no reason
+      why they should not all be possible. She could not but recollect with a
+      wondering smile that only yesterday she had been happy at the thought of
+      arranging one dingy little parlor in her country parsonage, and had been
+      trying to persuade her father to the extravagance of re-covering two
+      chairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been hard for Helen to keep her emotions from Mr. Harrison,
+      and he must have guessed the reason why she was so flushed and excited.
+      They were standing just then in the center of the great dining-room, with
+      its massive furniture of black mahogany, and she was saying that it ought
+      to be papered in dark red, and was conjuring up the effect to herself.
+      &ldquo;Something rich, you know, to set off the furniture,&rdquo; she explained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you must take that dreadful portrait from over the mantel,&rdquo; she
+      added, laughing. (It was a picture of a Revolutionary warrior, on
+      horseback and in full uniform, the coloring looking like faded oilcloth.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had thought of that myself,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;It's the founder of
+      the Eversons; there's a picture gallery in a hall back of here, with two
+      whole rows of ancestors in it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don't you adopt them?&rdquo; asked Helen mischievously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One can buy all the ancestors one wants to, nowadays,&rdquo; laughed Mr.
+      Harrison. &ldquo;I thought I'd make something more interesting out of it. I'm
+      not much of a judge of art, you know, but I thought if I ever went abroad
+      I'd buy up some of the great paintings that one reads about&mdash;some of
+      the old masters, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid you'd find very few of them for sale,&rdquo; said Helen, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not accustomed to fail in buying things that I want,&rdquo; was the other's
+      reply. &ldquo;Are you fond of pictures?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much indeed,&rdquo; answered the girl. As a matter of fact, the mere
+      mention of the subject opened a new kingdom to her, for she could not
+      count the number of times she had sat before beautiful pictures and almost
+      wept at the thought that she could never own one that was really worth
+      looking at. &ldquo;I brought home a few myself,&rdquo; she said to her companion,&mdash;&ldquo;just
+      engravings, you know, half a dozen that I thought would please me; I mean
+      to hang them around my music-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me about it,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;I have been thinking of fixing up
+      such a place myself, you know. I thought of extending the house on the
+      side that has the fine view of the valley, and making part a piazza, and
+      part a conservatory or music-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It could be both!&rdquo; exclaimed the girl, eagerly. &ldquo;That would be the very
+      thing; there ought not to be anything in a music-room, you know, except
+      the piano and just a few chairs, and the rest all flowers. The pictures
+      ought all to be appropriate&mdash;pictures of nature, of things that dance
+      and are beautiful; oh, I could lose myself in such a room as that!&rdquo; and
+      Helen ran on, completely carried away by the fancy, and forgetting even
+      Mr. Harrison for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have often dreamed of such a place,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;where everything would
+      be sympathetic; it's a pity that one can't have a piano taken out into the
+      fields, the way I remember reading that Haydn used to do with his
+      harpsichord. If I were a violinist, that's the way I'd do all my playing,
+      because then one would not need to be afraid to open his eyes; oh, it
+      would be fine&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen stopped; she was at the height of her excitement just then; and the
+      climax came a moment afterwards. &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; asked the man, &ldquo;would you
+      really like to arrange such a music-room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The tone of his voice was so different that the girl comprehended
+      instantly; it was this moment to which she had been rushing with so much
+      exultation; but when it came her heart almost stopped beating, and she
+      gave a choking gasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you really like it?&rdquo; asked Mr. Harrison again, bending towards her
+      earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, certainly,&rdquo; said Helen, making one blind and desperate effort to
+      dodge the issue. &ldquo;I'll tell you everything that is necessary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not what I mean, Miss Davis!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not?&rdquo; echoed Helen, and she tried to look at him with her frank, open
+      eyes; but when she saw his burning look, she could not; she dropped her
+      eyes and turned scarlet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; went on the man rapidly, &ldquo;I have been waiting for a chance
+      to tell you this. Let me tell you now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gazed wildly about her once, as if she would have fled; then she
+      stood with her arms lying helplessly at her sides, trembling in every
+      nerve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is very little pleasure that one can get from such beautiful things
+      alone, Miss Davis, and especially when he is as dulled by the world as
+      myself. I thought that some day I might be able to share them with some
+      one who could enjoy them more than I, but I never knew who that person was
+      until last night. I know that I have not much else to offer you, except
+      what wealth and position I have gained; and when I think of all your
+      accomplishments, and all that you have to place you so far beyond me, I
+      almost fear to offer myself to you. But I can only give what I have&mdash;my
+      humble admiration of your beauty and your powers; and the promise to
+      worship you, to give the rest of my life to seeing that you have
+      everything in the world that you want. I will put all that I own at your
+      command, and get as much more as I can, with no thought but of your
+      happiness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Harrison could not have chosen words more fitted to win the trembling
+      girl beside him; that, he should recognize as well as she did her
+      superiority to him, removed half of his deficiency in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; the other went on, &ldquo;I cannot know how you will feel toward
+      such a promise, but I cannot but feel that what I possess could give you
+      opportunities of much happiness. You should have all the beauty about you
+      that you wished, for there is nothing in the world too beautiful for you;
+      and you should have every luxury that money can buy, to save you from all
+      care. If this house seemed too small for you, you should have another
+      wherever you desired it, and be mistress of it, and of everything in it;
+      and if you cared for a social career, you should have everything to help
+      you, and it would be my one happiness to see your triumph. I would give a
+      thousand times what I own to have you for my wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the man continued, pleading his cause, until at last he stopped,
+      waiting anxiously for a sign from the girl; he saw that she was agitated,
+      for her breast was heaving, and her forehead flushed, but he could not
+      tell the reason. &ldquo;Perhaps, Miss Davis,&rdquo; he said, humbly, &ldquo;you will scorn
+      such things as I have to offer you; tell me, is it that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen answered him, in a faint voice, &ldquo;It is not that, Mr. Harrison; it
+      is,&mdash;it is,&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, Miss Davis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has been but a day! I have had no time to know you&mdash;to love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen stopped, afraid at the words she herself was using; for she knew
+      that for the first time in her life she had stooped to a sham and a lie.
+      Her whole soul was ablaze with longing just then, with longing for the
+      power and the happiness which this man held out to her; and she meant to
+      take him, she had no longer a thought of resistance. It was all the world
+      which offered itself to her, and she meant to clasp it to her&mdash;to
+      lose herself quite utterly and forget herself in it, and she was already
+      drunk with the thought. Therefore she could not but shudder as she heard
+      the word &ldquo;love&rdquo; upon her lips, and knew that she had used it because she
+      wished to make a show of hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not need but one day, Miss Davis,&rdquo; went on the other pleadingly,
+      &ldquo;to know that I loved you&mdash;to know that I no longer set any value on
+      the things that I had struggled all my life to win; for you are perfect,
+      Miss Davis. You are so far beyond me that I have scarcely the courage to
+      ask you what I do. But I <i>must</i> ask you, and know my fate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped again and gazed at her; and Helen looked at him wildly, and
+      then turned away once more, trembling. She wished that he would only
+      continue still longer, for the word was upon her lips, and yet it was
+      horror for her to utter it, because she felt she ought not to yield so
+      soon,&mdash;because she wanted some delay; she sought for some word that
+      would be an evasion, that would make him urge her more strongly; she
+      wished to be wooed and made to surrender, and yet she could find no
+      pretext.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Answer me, Miss Davis!&rdquo; exclaimed the other, passionately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&mdash;what do you wish me to say?&rdquo; asked Helen faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you to tell me that you will be my wife; I wish you to take me for
+      what I can give you for your happiness and your glory. I ask nothing else,
+      I make no terms; if you will do it, it will make me the happiest man in
+      the world. There is nothing else that I care for in life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then as the girl still stood, flushed and shuddering, hovering upon
+      the verge, he took her hand in his and begged her to reply. &ldquo;You must not
+      keep me in suspense!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;You must tell me,&mdash;tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen, almost sinking, answered him &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; It was such a faint word
+      that she scarcely heard it herself, but the other heard it, and trembling
+      with delight, he caught her in his arms and pressed a burning kiss upon
+      her cheek.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The effect surprised him; for the fire which had burned Helen and inflamed
+      her cheeks had been ambition, and ambition alone. It was the man's money
+      that she wanted and she was stirred with no less horror than ever at the
+      thought of the price to be paid; therefore the touch of his rough mustache
+      upon her cheek acted upon her as an electric contact, and all the shame in
+      her nature burst into flame. She tore herself loose with almost a scream.
+      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Harrison gazed at her in astonishment for a moment, scarcely able to
+      find a word to say. &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; he protested, &ldquo;Helen&mdash;what is the
+      matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had no right to do that!&rdquo; she cried, trembling with anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; protested the other, &ldquo;have you not just promised to be my wife?&rdquo;
+       And the words made the girl turn white and drop her eyes in fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; she panted helplessly, &ldquo;but you should not&mdash;it is too
+      soon!&rdquo; The other stood watching her, perhaps divining a little of the
+      cause of her agitation, and feeling, at any rate, that he could be
+      satisfied for the present with his success. He answered, very humbly,
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are right; I am very sorry for offending you,&rdquo; and stood
+      silently waiting until the girl's emotions had subsided a little, and she
+      had looked at him again. &ldquo;You will pardon me?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; she said, weakly, &ldquo;only&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you will not forget the promise you have made me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered, and then she gazed anxiously toward the door. &ldquo;Let us
+      go,&rdquo; she said imploringly; &ldquo;it is all so hard for me to realize, and I
+      feel so very faint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The two went slowly down the hallway, Mr. Harrison not even venturing to
+      offer her his arm; outside they stood for a minute upon the high steps,
+      Helen leaning against a pillar and breathing very hard. She dared not
+      raise her eyes to the man beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You wish to go now?&rdquo; he asked, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, please,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;I think so; it is very late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen scarcely knew what happened during the drive home, for she passed it
+      in a half-dazed condition, almost overwhelmed by what she had done. She
+      answered mechanically to all Mr. Harrison's remarks about his arrangements
+      of the house and his plans elsewhere, but all reference to his wealth
+      seemed powerless to waken in her a trace of the exultation that had swept
+      her away before, while every allusion to their personal relationship was
+      like the touch of fire. Her companion seemed to divine the fact, and again
+      he begged her anxiously not to forget the promise she had given. Helen
+      answered faintly that she would not; but the words were hard for her to
+      say and it was an infinite relief to her to see Oakdale again, and to feel
+      that the strain would soon be over, for the time at any rate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall stay somewhere in the neighborhood,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison. &ldquo;You will
+      let me see you often, Helen, will you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Helen, mechanically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will come to-morrow,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;and take you driving if you
+      like; I promised to go back and lunch with your aunt to-day, as I thought
+      I was to return to the city.&rdquo; In a moment more the carriage stopped in
+      front of Helen's home, and the girl, without waiting for anyone to assist
+      her, leaped out and with a hasty word of parting, ran into the house. She
+      heard the horses trotting away, and then the door closed behind her, and
+      she stood in the dark, silent hallway. She saw no one, and after gazing
+      about her for a moment she stole into her little music-room and flung
+      herself down upon the couch, where she lay with her head buried in her
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a long time afterwards when she glanced up again; she was trembling
+      all over, and her face was white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In Heaven's name, how can I have done it?&rdquo; she whispered hoarsely, to
+      herself. &ldquo;How can I have done it? And what <i>am</i> I to do now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nur wer der Minne Macht ent-sagt, nur wer der Liebe Lust verjagt
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Wie kommt's, dass du so traurig bist,
+    Da alles froh erscheint?
+  Man sieht dir's an den Augen an,
+    Gewiss, du hast geweint.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen might have spent the afternoon in that situation, tormenting herself
+      with the doubts and fears that filled her mind, had it not been for the
+      fact that her presence was discovered by Elizabeth, the servant, who came
+      in to clean the room. The latter of course was astonished to see her, but
+      Helen was in no mood to vouchsafe explanations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just leave me alone,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I do not feel very well. And don't tell
+      father I am here yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father, Miss Helen!&rdquo; exclaimed the woman; &ldquo;didn't you get his
+      letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What letter?&rdquo; And then poor Helen was made aware of another trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Davis wrote Mrs. Roberts last night,&rdquo; answered the servant. &ldquo;He's
+      gone away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Away!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;Where to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To New York.&rdquo; Then the woman went on to explain that Mr. Davis had been
+      invited to take the place of a friend who was ill, and had left Oakdale
+      for a week. Helen understood that the letter must have reached her aunt
+      after her own departure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me!&rdquo; the girl exclaimed, &ldquo;How unfortunate! I don't want to stay here
+      alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But afterwards it flashed over her that if she did she might be able to
+      have a week of quiet to regain her self-possession. &ldquo;Mr. Harrison couldn't
+      expect to visit me if I were alone,&rdquo; she thought. &ldquo;But then, I suppose he
+      could, too,&rdquo; she added hastily, &ldquo;if I am engaged to him! And I could never
+      stand that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Helen,&rdquo; said the servant, who had been standing and watching her
+      anxiously, &ldquo;you look very ill; is anything the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; Helen answered, &ldquo;only I want to rest. Leave me alone, please,
+      Elizabeth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going to stay?&rdquo; the other asked; &ldquo;I must fix up your room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll have to stay,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;There's nothing else to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you had lunch yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but I don't want any; just let me be, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen expected the woman to protest, but she did not. She turned away, and
+      the girl sank back upon the couch and covered her face again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything has gone wrong!&rdquo; she groaned to herself, &ldquo;I know I shall die
+      of despair; I don't want to be here all alone with Mr. Harrison coming
+      here. Dear me, I wish I had never seen him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen's nervous impatience grew upon her, until she could stand it no
+      more, and she sprang up and began pacing swiftly up and down the room; she
+      was still doing that when she heard a step in the hall and saw the
+      faithful servant in the doorway with a tray of luncheon. Elizabeth asked
+      no questions about matters that did not concern her, but she regarded this
+      as her province, and she would pay no attention to Helen's protests.
+      &ldquo;You'll be ill if you don't eat,&rdquo; she vowed; &ldquo;you look paler than I ever
+      saw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so the girl sat down to attempt to please her, Elizabeth standing by
+      and talking to her in the meantime; but Helen was so wrapped up in her own
+      thoughts that she scarcely heard a word&mdash;until the woman chanced to
+      ask one question: &ldquo;Did you hear about Mr. Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen gazed up at her. &ldquo;Hear about him?&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;hear what about
+      him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He's very ill,&rdquo; said Elizabeth. Helen gave a start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ill!&rdquo; she gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, &ldquo;I thought you must know; Mr. Davis was over to see
+      him yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor said he must have been fearfully run down, and he was out in
+      the storm and caught a cold; and he's been in a very bad way, delirious
+      and unconscious by turns for two or three days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was staring at the servant in a dumb fright. &ldquo;Tell me, Elizabeth,&rdquo;
+       she cried, scarcely able to say the words, &ldquo;he is not dangerously ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The danger is over now,&rdquo; the other answered, &ldquo;so the doctor said, or else
+      Mr. Davis would never have left; but he's in a bad way and it may be some
+      time before he's up again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it was the girl's overwrought condition that made her more easily
+      alarmed just then, for she was trembling all over as she heard those
+      words. She had forgotten Arthur almost entirely during the past two days,
+      and he came back to her at that moment as another thorn in her conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Davis said he wrote you to go and see him,&rdquo; went on the servant;
+      &ldquo;shall you, Miss Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I don't know,&rdquo; said Helen faintly, &ldquo;I'll see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As a matter of fact, she knew that she almost certainly would <i>not</i>
+      go to see Arthur after what had just passed; even to have him find out
+      about it was something of which she simply could not think. She felt dread
+      enough at having to tell her father of what had occurred with Mr.
+      Harrison, and to see Arthur, even though he did not know about it, she
+      knew was not in her power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I ought not to have told you about it until after you had had
+      your lunch; you are not eating anything, Miss Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want anything,&rdquo; said Helen, mournfully; &ldquo;take it now, please,
+      Elizabeth, and please do not trouble me any more. I have a great deal to
+      worry me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the woman had left the room, Helen shut the door and then sat down on
+      a chair, staring blankly before her; there was a mirror just across the
+      room, and her own image caught her eye, startling her by its pale and
+      haggard look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear me, it's dreadful!&rdquo; she cried aloud, springing up. &ldquo;Why <i>did</i> I
+      let people trouble me in this way? I can't help Arthur, and I couldn't
+      have helped him in the beginning. It's every bit of it his own fault, and
+      I don't see why I should let it make me ill. And it's the same with the
+      other thing; I could have been happy without all that wealth if I'd never
+      seen it, and now I know I'll never be happy again,&mdash;oh, I know it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen began once more pacing up and down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never was this way before in my life,&rdquo; she cried with increasing
+      vexation, &ldquo;and I won't have it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She clenched her hands angrily, struggling within herself to shake off
+      what was tormenting her. But she might as well have tried to shake off a
+      mountain from her shoulders; hers had been none of the stern experience
+      that gives power and command to the character, and of the kind of energy
+      that she needed she had none, and not even a thought of it. She tried only
+      to forget her troubles in some of her old pleasures, and when she found
+      that she could not read, and that the music she tried to play sounded
+      hollow and meaningless, she could only fling herself down upon the sofa
+      with a moan. There, realizing her own impotence, she sank into dull
+      despair, unable any longer to realize the difficulties which troubled her,
+      and with only one certainty in her mind&mdash;that she was more lost and
+      helpless than she had ever thought it possible for her to be.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Time is not a thing of much consequence under such circumstances, and it
+      was a couple of hours before Helen was aroused. She heard a carriage stop
+      at the door, and sprang up in alarm, with the thought that it might be Mr.
+      Harrison. But as she stood trembling in the middle of the room she heard a
+      voice inquiring for her, and recognized it as that of her aunt; a moment
+      later Mrs. Roberts rushed into the room, and catching sight of Helen,
+      flung her arms eagerly about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear girl,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;Mr. Harrison has just told me about what has
+      happened!&rdquo; And then as she read her niece's state of mind in her
+      countenance, she added, &ldquo;I expected to find you rejoicing, Helen; what is
+      the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In point of fact the woman had known pretty well just how she would find
+      Helen, and having no idea of leaving her to her own tormenting fancies,
+      she had driven over the moment she had finished her lunch. &ldquo;I received
+      your father's letter,&rdquo; she said, without waiting for Helen to answer her,
+      &ldquo;so I came right over to take you back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To take me back!&rdquo; echoed Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my dear; you don't suppose I mean to leave you here all alone by
+      yourself, do you? And especially at such a time as this, when Mr. Harrison
+      wants to see you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; protested Helen, &ldquo;I don't want to see him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't want to see him? Why, my dear girl, you have promised to be his
+      wife!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts saw Helen shudder slightly, and so she went on quickly, &ldquo;He
+      is going to stay at the hotel in the village; you won't find it the same
+      as being in the house with him. But I do assure you, child, there never
+      was a man more madly in love than he is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Auntie, dear, that Mr. Howard, too!&rdquo; protested Helen, trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will not interfere with you, for he never makes any noise; and you'll
+      not know he's there. Of course, you won't play the piano, but you can do
+      anything else you choose. And Mr. Harrison will probably take you driving
+      every day.&rdquo; Then seeing how agitated Helen was, her aunt put her arms
+      around her again, and led her to the sofa. &ldquo;Come, Helen,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I
+      don't blame you for being nervous. I know just how you feel, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Aunt Polly!&rdquo; moaned the girl. &ldquo;I am so wretched!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; laughed Aunt Polly; &ldquo;it's the idea of having to marry him, I
+      suppose; I felt the very same way when I was in your place. But you'll
+      find that wears off very quickly; you'll get used to seeing him. And
+      besides, you know that you've <i>got</i> to marry him, if you want any of
+      the other happiness!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Mrs. Roberts stopped and gazed about her. &ldquo;Think, for instance, my
+      dear,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;of having to be content with this dingy little room,
+      after having seen that magnificent place of his! Do you know, Helen, dear,
+      that I really envy you; and it seems quite ridiculous to come over here
+      and find you moping around. One would think you were a hermit and did not
+      care anything about life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do care about it,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;and I love beautiful things and
+      all; but, Aunt Polly, I can't help thinking it's dreadful to have to
+      marry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come and learn to like Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; said the other, cheerfully. &ldquo;Helen,
+      you are really too weak to ruin your peace of mind in this way; for you
+      could see if you chose that all your troubles are of your own making, and
+      that if you were really determined to be happy, you could do it. Why don't
+      you, dear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; protested the girl, faintly; &ldquo;perhaps I am weak, but I
+      can't help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; laughed the other, &ldquo;if you spend your afternoons shut up
+      in a half-dark room like this. When you come with me you won't be able to
+      do that way; and I tell you you'll find there's nothing like having social
+      duties and an appearance to maintain in the world to keep one cheerful. If
+      you didn't have me at your elbow I really believe you'd go all to pieces.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fear I should,&rdquo; said the girl; but she could not help laughing as she
+      allowed herself to be led upstairs, and to have the dust bathed from her
+      face and the wrinkles smoothed from her brow. In the meantime her
+      diplomatic aunt was unobtrusively dropping as many hints as she could
+      think of to stir Helen to a sense of the fact that she had suddenly become
+      a person of consequence; and whether it was these hints or merely the
+      reaction natural to Helen, it is certain that she was much calmer when she
+      went down to the carriage, and much more disposed to resign herself to
+      meeting Mr. Harrison again. And Mrs. Roberts was correspondingly glad that
+      she had been foreseeing enough to come and carry her away; she had great
+      confidence in her ability to keep Helen from foolish worrying, and to
+      interest her in the great future that was before her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then it's just as well that she should be at my house where she can
+      find the comfort that she loves,&rdquo; she reflected. &ldquo;I can see that she
+      learns to love it more every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The great thing, of course, was to keep her ambition as much awake as
+      possible, and so during the drive home Mrs. Roberts' conversation was of
+      the excitement which the announcement of Helen's engagement would create
+      in the social world, and of the brilliant triumph which the rest of her
+      life would be, and of the vast preparations which she was to make for it.
+      The trousseau soon came in for mention then; and what woman could have
+      been indifferent to a trousseau, even for a marriage which she dreaded?
+      After that the conversation was no longer a task, for Helen's animation
+      never failed to build itself up when it was once awake; she was so pleased
+      and eager that the drive was over before she knew it, and before she had
+      had time for even one unpleasant thought about meeting Mr. Harrison.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It proved not to be a difficult task after all, for Mr. Harrison was quiet
+      and dignified, and even a little reserved, as Helen thought, so that it
+      occurred to her that perhaps he was offended at the vehemence with which
+      she had repelled him. She did not know, but it seemed to her that perhaps
+      it might have been his right to embrace her after she had promised to
+      marry him; the thought made her shudder, yet she felt sure that if she had
+      asked her aunt she would have learned that she was very much in the wrong
+      indeed. Helen's conscience was very restless just at that time, and it was
+      pleasant to be able to lull it by being a little more gracious and kind to
+      her ardent lover. The latter of course responded joyfully, so that the
+      remainder of the afternoon passed quite pleasantly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Mr. Roberts arrived and had been acquainted with the tidings, he of
+      course sought the first opportunity to see the girl, and to congratulate
+      her upon her wonderful fortune. Helen had always found in her uncle a
+      grave, business-like person, who treated her with indifference, and
+      therefore inspired her with awe; it was not a little stirring to her
+      vanity to find that she was now a person of sufficient consequence to
+      reverse the relation. This fact did yet a little more to make her realize
+      the vastness of her sudden conquest, and so throughout dinner she was
+      almost as exulting in her own heart as she had been at the same time on
+      the previous day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her animation mounted throughout the evening, for Mr. Harrison and her
+      aunt talked of the future&mdash;of endless trips abroad, and of palatial
+      houses and royal entertainments at home&mdash;until the girl was
+      completely dazed. Afterwards, when she and Mr. Harrison were left alone,
+      Helen fascinated her companion as completely as ever, and was radiant
+      herself, and rejoicing. As if to cap the climax, Mr. Harrison broached the
+      subject of a trip to New York, to see if she could find anything at the
+      various picture dealers to suit her music room, and also of a visit to
+      Fairview to meet an architect and discuss her plan there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl went up to her room just as completely full of exultation as she
+      had been upon the night before, yet more comfortable in the conviction
+      that there would be no repetition of that night's worry. Yet even as the
+      thought occurred to her, it made her tremble; and as if some fiend had
+      arranged it especially for her torment, as she passed down the hall a
+      nurse came silently out of one of the rooms, and through the half open
+      doorway Helen fancied that she heard a low moan. She shuddered and darted
+      into her own room and locked the door; yet that did not exclude the image
+      of the sufferer, or keep it from suggesting a train of thought that
+      plunged the girl into misery. It made her think of Arthur, and of the
+      haggard look that had been upon his face when he left her; and all Helen's
+      angry assertions that it was not her fault could not keep her from
+      tormenting herself after that. Always the fact was before her that however
+      sick he might be, even dying, she could never bear to see him again, and
+      so Arthur became the embodiment of her awakening conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The result was that the girl slept very little that night, spending half
+      of it in fact alternately sitting in a chair and pacing the room in
+      agitation, striving in vain to find some gleam of light to guide her out
+      of the mazes in which she was lost. The gray dawn found her tossing
+      feverishly about upon her pillow, yearning for the time when she had been
+      happy, and upbraiding herself for having been drawn into her present
+      trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she arose later on, she was more pale and wearied than she had been
+      upon the morning before; then she had at least possessed a resolution,
+      while this time she was only helpless and despairing. Thus her aunt found
+      her when she came in to greet her, and the dismay of the worthy matron may
+      be imagined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, being an indefatigable little body, she set bravely to work
+      again; first of all, by rebuking the girl for her weakness she managed to
+      rouse her to effort once more, and then by urging the necessity of seeing
+      people and of hiding her weakness, she managed to obtain at last a
+      semblance of cheerfulness. In the meantime Mrs. Roberts was helping her to
+      dress and to remove all traces of her unhappiness, so that when Helen
+      descended to breakfast she had received her first lesson in one of the
+      chief tasks of the social regime:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Full many in the silent night
+    Have wept their grief away;
+  And in the morn you fancy
+    Their hearts were ever gay.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And Helen played her part so well that Mrs. Roberts was much encouraged,
+      and beamed upon her across the table. As a matter of fact, because her
+      natural happiness was not all crushed, and because playing a part was not
+      easy to the girl, she was very soon interested in the various plans that
+      were being discussed. When Mr. Harrison called later on and proposed a
+      drive, she accepted with genuine pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To be sure, she found it a trifle less thrilling than on the day before,
+      for the novelty was gone; but that fact did not cause her much worry. In
+      all her anticipations of the pleasure before her, it had occurred to her
+      as little as it occurs to others in her situation to investigate the laws
+      of the senses through which the pleasure is to be obtained. There is a
+      whole moral philosophy to be extracted from the little word &ldquo;ennui&rdquo; by
+      those who know; but Helen was not of the knowing. She believed that when
+      she was tired of the horses she could delight herself with her beautiful
+      house, and that when she was tired of the house she could have a new one.
+      All her life she had been deriving ecstasy from beautiful things, from
+      dresses, and flowers, and books, and music, and pictures; and of course it
+      was only necessary to have an infinite quantity of such things in order to
+      be infinitely happy. The way to have the infinite quantity was to marry
+      Mr. Harrison, or at any rate that was Helen's view, and she was becoming
+      more and more irritated because it did not work well in practice, and more
+      and more convinced that her aunt must be right in blaming her weakness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime, being in the open air and among all the things that she
+      loved, she was bound to rejoice once more; and rejoice she did, not even
+      allowing herself to be hindered by Mr. Harrison's too obvious failures to
+      comprehend her best remarks. Helen argued that she was not engaged to the
+      man because of his cleverness, and that when she had come to the infinite
+      happiness towards which she was traveling so fast, she would have
+      inspiration enough for two. She had enough for the present to keep them
+      both happy throughout the drive, and when she returned she found that some
+      of the neighbors had driven over to see her, and to increase her
+      excitement by their congratulations. The Machiavellian Aunt Polly had told
+      the news to several friends on the day before, knowing full well that it
+      would spread during the night, and that Helen would have her first taste
+      of triumph the next day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so it continued, and exactly as on the night before, the feverish
+      excitement swept Helen on until the bedtime hour arrived. Then she went up
+      into her room alone, to wrestle with the same dreadful specter as before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The story of that day was the story of all that followed; Helen was
+      destined to find that she might sweep herself away upon the wings of her
+      ambition as often as she chose, and revel all she pleased in the thought
+      of Mr. Harrison's wealth; but when the excitement was over, and she came
+      to be all alone, she could think only of the one dreadful fact of the
+      necessity of marrying him. She was paying a Faustus price for her
+      happiness; and in the night time the price stared at her, and turned all
+      her happiness to misery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A state of mind such as this was so alien to Helen that it would have been
+      strange indeed if she had sunk into it without protest and rebellion; as
+      day after day passed, and the misery continued, her dissatisfaction with
+      everything about her built itself into a climax; more and more plainly she
+      was coming to see the widening of the gulf between the phantom she was
+      pursuing and the place, where she stood. Finally there came one day,
+      nearly a week after her engagement, when Helen was so exhausted and so
+      wretched that she had made up her mind to remain in her room, and had
+      withstood all her aunt's attempts to dissuade her. She had passed the
+      morning in bed, between equally vain attempts to become interested in a
+      book and to make up for the sleep she had missed during the night, and was
+      just about giving up both in despair when the maid entered to say that
+      Elizabeth wished to see her. Helen gave a start, for she knew that
+      something must be wrong; when the woman entered she asked breathlessly
+      what it was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's about Mr. Arthur,&rdquo; was the hurried reply, and Helen turned paler
+      than ever, and clutched the bedclothing in her trembling hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; she cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why you know, Miss Helen,&rdquo; said Elizabeth, &ldquo;your father wrote me to go
+      and see him whenever I could, and I've just come from there this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He looked dreadful, but he had gotten up to-day, and he was sitting by
+      the window when I came in. He was hardly a shadow of himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was trembling. &ldquo;You have not been to see him?&rdquo; asked the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen, faintly, &ldquo;I&mdash;&rdquo; and then she stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; Elizabeth inquired anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He did not ask for me, did he?&rdquo; asked the girl, scarcely able to utter
+      the words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the woman, &ldquo;but you know, everybody told me you were engaged to
+      a rich man&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen started forwrard with a cry. &ldquo;Elizabeth!&rdquo; she gasped, &ldquo;you&mdash;you
+      didn't&mdash;-!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;I told him.&rdquo; And then seeing the girl's look of
+      terror, she stopped short. Helen stared at her for fully half a minute
+      without uttering a word; and then the woman went on, slowly, &ldquo;It was very
+      dreadful, Miss Helen; he went almost crazy, and I was so frightened that I
+      didn't know what I should do. Please tell me what is the matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was still gazing dumbly at the woman, seeming not to have heard the
+      last question. &ldquo;I&mdash;I can't tell you,&rdquo; she said, when it was repeated
+      again; &ldquo;you ought not to have told him, Elizabeth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Helen,&rdquo; cried the woman, anxiously, &ldquo;you <i>must</i> do something!
+      For I am sure that I know what is the matter; he loves you, and you must
+      know it, too. And it will certainly kill him; weak as he was, he rushed
+      out of the house, and I could not find him anywhere. Miss Helen, you <i>must</i>
+      go and see him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl sat with the same look of helpless fright upon her face, and with
+      her hands clenched tightly between her knees; the other went on talking
+      hurriedly, but Helen scarcely heard anything after that; her mind was too
+      full of its own thoughts. It was several minutes more before she even
+      noticed that the woman was still insisting that she must go to see
+      Artheur. &ldquo;Please leave me now!&rdquo; she cried wildly; &ldquo;please leave me! I
+      cannot explain anything,&mdash;I want to be alone!&rdquo; And when the door was
+      shut she became once more dumb and motionless, staring blankly ahead of
+      her, a helpless victim of her own wretched thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the end of it,&rdquo; she groaned to herself; &ldquo;oh, that is the end of
+      it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winkt dir nicht hold die hehre Burg?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Thou would'st be happy,
+  Endlessly happy,
+  Or endlessly wretched.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen was quite powerless to do anything whatever after that last piece of
+      misfortune; it seemed as if she could have remained just where she was for
+      hours, shuddering at the sight of what was happening, yet utterly helpless
+      before it. The world was taking a very serious aspect indeed to the bright
+      and laughing girl, who had thought of it as the home of birds and flowers;
+      yet she knew not what to make of the change, or how she was to blame for
+      it, and she could only sit still and tremble. She was in the same position
+      and the same state of mind when her aunt entered the room some minutes
+      later.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts stood watching her silently, and then as Helen turned her
+      gaze of pleading misery upon her, she came forward and sat down in a chair
+      by the bedside, and fixed her keen eyes upon the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Aunt Polly!&rdquo; cried Helen; &ldquo;what am I to do? I am so wretched!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have just been talking to Elizabeth,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, with some
+      sternness, &ldquo;and she's been telling you about Arthur&mdash;is that what is
+      the matter with you, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the trembling response, &ldquo;what can I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Helen, in the first place,&rdquo; demanded the other. &ldquo;When you saw
+      Arthur that day in the woods, what did you do? Did you make him any
+      promises?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Auntie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you hold out any hopes to him? Did you say anything to him at all
+      about love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I told him it was impossible,&rdquo; said Helen, eagerly, clutching at
+      that little crumb of comfort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then in Heaven's name, child,&rdquo; cried the other in amazement, &ldquo;what is the
+      matter with you? If Arthur chooses to carry on in this fashion, why in the
+      world should you punish yourself in this horrible way? What is the matter
+      with you, Helen? Are you responsible to him for your marriage? I don't
+      know which is the most absurd, the boy's behavior, or your worrying about
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Auntie,&rdquo; stammered the girl, &ldquo;he is so ill&mdash;he might die!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Die, bosh!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Roberts; &ldquo;he frightened Elizabeth by his
+      ravings; it is the most absurd nonsense,&mdash;he a penniless
+      school-teacher, and the Lord only knows what besides! I only wish I'd been
+      there to talk to him, for I don't think he'd have frightened me! What in
+      the world do you suppose he wants, anyway? Is he mad enough to expect you
+      to marry him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; said Helen, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'd never have believed that Arthur could be capable of anything so
+      preposterous as this behavior,&rdquo; vowed Mrs. Roberts; &ldquo;and then to come up
+      here and find you wearing yourself to a skeleton about it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't only that, Auntie,&rdquo; protested Helen, &ldquo;there is so much else; I
+      am miserable!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, grimly; &ldquo;I see it as well as you, and there's just
+      about as much reason in any of it as in the matter of Arthur.&rdquo; Then Mrs.
+      Roberts moved her chair nearer, and after gazing at Helen for a moment,
+      began again. &ldquo;I've been meaning to say something to you, and it might just
+      as well be said now. For all this matter is coming to a climax, Helen; it
+      can't go on this way very much longer, for you'll kill yourself. It's got
+      to be settled one way or the other, once and for all.&rdquo; And Mrs. Roberts
+      stopped and took a deep breath, preparing for one more struggle; Helen
+      still gazed at her helplessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not going to say anything more about Arthur,&rdquo; declared the woman; &ldquo;if
+      you choose to torment yourself about such absurdities, I can't help it.
+      Arthur's behavior is not the least your fault, and you know it; but all
+      the other trouble is your fault, and there's nobody else to blame. For the
+      question is just as simple as the day, Helen, and you must see it and
+      decide it; you've got to choose between one of two things, either to marry
+      Mr. Harrison or to give him up; and there's no excuse for your hesitating
+      and tormenting yourself one day longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the indomitable woman set to work at her old task of conjuring up
+      before the girl's eyes all the allurements that had so often made her
+      heart throb; she, pictured Fairview and all its luxuries, and the
+      admiration and power that must be hers when she was mistress of it; and
+      she mentioned every other source of pleasure that she knew would stir
+      Helen's eager thirst. After having hammered away at that theme until she
+      saw signs of the effect she desired, she turned to the other side of the
+      picture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; she demanded, &ldquo;is it really possible for you to think of giving
+      up these things and going back to live in that miserable little house at
+      Oakdale? Can you not see that you would be simply burying yourself alive?
+      You might just as well be as ugly as those horrible Nelson girls across
+      the way. Helen, you <i>know</i> you belong to a different station in life
+      than those people! You know you have a right to some of the beautiful
+      things in the world, and you know that after this vision of everything
+      perfect that you have seen, you can never possibly be happy in your
+      ignorant girlish way again. You have promised Mr. Harrison to marry him,
+      and made him go to all the expense that he has; and you've told everybody
+      you know, and all the world is talking about your triumph; and you've had
+      Mr. Roberts go to all the trouble he has about your trousseau,&mdash;surely,
+      Helen, you cannot dream of changing your mind and giving all this up. It
+      is ridiculous to talk about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to give it up,&rdquo; protested the girl, moaning, &ldquo;but, oh, I
+      can't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;I've heard all that a thousand times.
+      Don't you see, Helen, that you've simply <i>got</i> to marry him! There is
+      no other possibility to think of, and all of your weakness is that you
+      don't perceive that fact, and make up your mind to it. Just see how absurd
+      you are, to make yourself ill in this way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I can't help it, Auntie, indeed I can't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You could help it if you wanted to,&rdquo; vowed the other. &ldquo;I am quite
+      disgusted with you. I have told you a thousand times that this is all an
+      imaginary terror that you are conjuring up for yourself, to ruin your
+      health and happiness. When you have married him you will see that it's
+      just as I tell you, and you'll laugh at yourself for feeling as you did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's in the meantime, Aunt Polly&mdash;it's having to think about it
+      that frightens me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, let me tell you one thing,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts; &ldquo;if I found that I
+      couldn't cure myself of such weakness as this, sooner than let it ruin my
+      life and make everyone about me wretched, I'd settle the matter right now
+      and forever; I'd marry him within a week, Helen!&rdquo; And the resolute little
+      woman clenched her hands grimly. &ldquo;Yes, I would,&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;and if I
+      found I hadn't strength enough to hold my resolution, I'd marry him
+      to-morrow, and there'd be an end to it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't realize, Helen, how you treat Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; she went on, as
+      the girl shuddered; &ldquo;and how patient he is. You'd not find many men like
+      him in that respect, my dear. For he's madly in love with you, and you
+      treat him as coldly as if he were a stranger. I can see that, for I watch
+      you, and I can see how it offends him. You have promised to be his wife,
+      Helen, and yet you behave in this ridiculous way. You are making yourself
+      ill, and you look years older every day, yet you make not the least
+      attempt to conquer yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So she went on, and Helen began to feel more and more that she was doing a
+      very great wrong indeed. Mrs. Roberts' sharp questioning finally drew from
+      her the story of her reception of Mr. Harrison's one kiss, and Helen was
+      made to seem quite ridiculous and even rude in her own eyes; her aunt
+      lectured her with such unaccustomed sternness that she was completely
+      frightened, and came to look upon her action as the cause of all the rest
+      of her misery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's precisely on that account that you still regard him as a stranger,&rdquo;
+       Mrs. Roberts vowed; &ldquo;of course he makes no more advances, and you might go
+      on forever in that way.&rdquo; Helen promised that the next time she was alone
+      with Mr. Harrison she would apologize for her rudeness, and treat him in a
+      different manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish,&rdquo; Mrs. Roberts went on, &ldquo;that I could only make you see as plainly
+      as I see, Helen, how very absurd your conduct is. Day by day you are
+      filling your mind with the thought of the triumph that is to be yours, so
+      that it takes hold of you and becomes all your life to you; and all the
+      time you know that to possess it there is one thing which you have got to
+      do. And instead of realizing the fact and reconciling yourself to it, you
+      sit down and torment yourself as if you were a creature without reason or
+      will. Can you not see that you must be wretched?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I see,&rdquo; said Helen, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see it, but you make no effort to do anything else! You make me
+      almost give you up in despair. You will not see that this weakness has
+      only to be conquered once, and that then your life can be happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Auntie, dear,&rdquo; exclaimed Helen, &ldquo;it is so hard!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything in life would be hard for a person who had no more resolution
+      than you,&rdquo; responded the other. &ldquo;Because you know nothing about the world,
+      you fancy you are doing something very unusual and dreadful; but I assure
+      you it's what every girl has to do when she marries in society. And
+      there's no one of them but would laugh at your behavior; you just give Mr.
+      Harrison up, and see how long it would be before somebody else would take
+      him! Oh, child, how I wish I could give you a little of my energy; you
+      would go to the life that is before you in a very different way, I promise
+      you! For really the only way that you can have any happiness in the world
+      is to be strong and take it, and if you once had a purpose and some
+      determination you would feel like a different person. Make up your mind
+      what you wish to do, Helen, and go and do it, and take hold of yourself
+      and master yourself, and show what you are made of!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Polly was quite sublime as she delivered that little exordium; and to
+      the girl, anxious as she was for her old strength and happiness, the words
+      were like music. They made her blood flow again, and there was a light in
+      her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Auntie,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I'll try to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try!&rdquo; echoed the other, &ldquo;what comes of all your trying? You have been
+      reveling for a week in visions of what is to be yours; and that ought
+      surely to have been enough time for you to make up your mind; and yet
+      every time that I find you alone, all your resolution is gone; you simply
+      have no strength, Helen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I will have it!&rdquo; cried the girl; &ldquo;I don't mean to do this way any
+      more; I never saw it so plainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see it now, because I'm talking to you, and you always do see it
+      then. But I should think the very terror of what you have suffered would
+      serve as a motive, and make you quite desperate. Can you not see that your
+      very safety depends upon your taking this resolution and keeping it, and
+      not letting go of it, no matter what happens? From what I've seen of you,
+      Helen, I know that if you do not summon all your energies together, and
+      fling aside every purpose but this, and act upon it <i>now</i>, while you
+      feel it so keenly, you will surely fail. For anybody can withstand a
+      temptation for a while, when his mind is made up; all the trouble is in
+      keeping it made up for a long time. I tell you if I found I was losing,
+      sooner than surrender I would do anything, absolutely anything!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts had many more words of that heroic kind; she was a vigorous
+      little body, and she was quite on fire with enthusiasm just then, and with
+      zeal for the consummation of the great triumph. Perhaps there is no
+      occupation of men quite without its poetry, and even a society leader may
+      attain to the sublime in her devotion to life as she sees it. Besides that
+      the over-zealous woman was exalted to eloquence just then by a feeling
+      that she was nearer her goal than ever before, and that she had only to
+      spur Helen on and keep her in her present glow to clinch the matter; for
+      the girl was very much excited indeed, and showed both by what she said
+      and by the change in her behavior that she was determined to have an end
+      to her own wretchedness and to conquer her shrinking from her future
+      husband at any cost. During all the time that she was dressing, her aunt
+      was stirring her resolution with the same appeal, so that Helen felt that
+      she had never seen her course so clearly before, or had so much resolution
+      to follow it. She spread out her arms and drank deep breaths of relief
+      because she was free from her misery, and knew how to keep so; and at the
+      same time, because she still felt tremblings of fear, she clenched her
+      hands in grim earnestness. When she was ready to descend she was flushed
+      and trembling with excitement, and quite full of her resolution. &ldquo;She
+      won't have to go very far,&rdquo; Mrs. Roberts mused, &ldquo;for the man is madly in
+      love with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you to look as beautiful as you can, dear,&rdquo; she said aloud, by way
+      of changing the subject; &ldquo;besides Mr. Harrison, there'll be another
+      visitor at lunch to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A stranger?&rdquo; echoed Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You remember, dear, when I told you of Mr. Howard I spoke of a third
+      person who was coming&mdash;Lieutenant Maynard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said the girl; &ldquo;is he here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just until the late train this evening,&rdquo; answered the other. &ldquo;He got his
+      leave as he expected, but of course he didn't want to come while Mr.
+      Howard was so ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen remembered with a start having heard someone say that Mr. Howard was
+      better. &ldquo;Auntie,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;he won't be at lunch, will he? I don't want
+      to see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He won't, dear,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;the doctor said he could leave his room
+      to-day, but it will be afterwards, when you have gone driving with Mr.
+      Harrison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And will he leave soon?&rdquo; asked Helen, shuddering; the mention of the
+      invalid's name had instantly brought to her mind the thought of Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will leave to-morrow, I presume; he probably knows he has caused us
+      trouble enough,&rdquo; answered Mrs. Roberts; and then reading Helen's thought,
+      and seeing a sign upon her face of the old worry, she made haste to lead
+      her down the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen found Mr. Harrison in conversation with a tall,
+      distinguished-looking man in naval uniform, to whom she was introduced by
+      her aunt; the girl saw that the officer admired her, which was only
+      another stimulant to her energies, so that she was at her cleverest during
+      the meal that followed. She accepted the invitation of Mr. Harrison to go
+      with him to Fairview during the afternoon, and after having been in her
+      room all the morning, she was looking forward to the drive with no little
+      pleasure, as also&mdash;to the meeting with the architect whom Mr.
+      Harrison said would be there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed once as if the plan were to be interrupted, and as if her
+      excitement and resolution were to come to naught, for a telegram arrived
+      for Mr. Harrison, and he announced that he was called away to New York
+      upon some business. But as it proved, this was only another circumstance
+      to urge her on in carrying out her defiant resolution, for Mr. Harrison
+      added that he would not have to leave until the evening, and her aunt
+      gazed at the girl significantly, to remind her of how little time there
+      was. Helen felt her heart give a sudden leap, and felt a disagreeable
+      trembling seize upon her; her animation became more feverish yet in
+      consequence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the luncheon, when she ran up for her hat and gloves, her aunt
+      followed her, but Helen shook her off with a laughing assurance that
+      everything would be all right, and then ran out into the hallway; she did
+      not go on, however, for something that she saw caused her to spring
+      quickly back, and turn pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; whispered her aunt, as Helen put her finger to her lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's <i>he!</i>&rdquo; replied the girl, shuddering; &ldquo;wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He&rdquo; was the unfortunate invalid, who was passing down the hallway upon
+      the arm of Lieutenant Maynard; Helen shook her head at all her aunt's
+      laughing protests, and could not be induced to leave the room until the
+      two had passed on; then she ran down, and leaving the house by another
+      door, sprang into the carriage with Mr. Harrison and was whirled away,
+      waving a laughing good-by to her aunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fresh air and the swift motion soon completed the reaction from
+      Helen's morning unhappiness; and as generally happened when she was much
+      excited, her imagination carried her away in one of her wild flights of
+      joy, so that her companion was as much lost as ever in admiration and
+      delight. Helen told him countless stories, and made countless
+      half-comprehended witticisms, and darted a great many mischievous glances
+      which were comprehended much better; when they had passed within the gates
+      of Fairview, being on private land she felt even less need of restraint,
+      and sang &ldquo;Dich, theure Halle, gruss' ich wieder!&rdquo; and laughed at her own
+      cleverness quite as much as if her companion had understood it all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After that it was a new delight to discover that work was progressing
+      rapidly upon the trimming of the forest and the turning of the grass-grown
+      road into a broad avenue; likewise the &ldquo;hay crop&rdquo; was in, and the lawn
+      plowed and raked and ready for grass seed, and the undesirable part of the
+      old furniture carted away,&mdash;all of which things Helen knew had been
+      done according to her commands. And scarcely had all this been appreciated
+      properly before the architect arrived; Helen was pleased with him because
+      for one thing he was evidently very much impressed by her beauty, and for
+      another because he entered so understandingly into all her ideas. He and
+      the girl spent a couple of the happiest hours in discussing the details of
+      the wonderful music room, a thing which seemed to her more full of
+      delightful possibilities than any other in all her radiant future; it was
+      a sort of a child's dream to her, with a fairy godmother to make it real,
+      and her imagination ran riot in a vision of banks of flowers, and of
+      paintings of all things that embody the joys of music, the &ldquo;shapes that
+      haunt thought's wildernesses.&rdquo; At night the whole was to be illuminated in
+      such a way as to give these verisimilitude, and in the daytime it would be
+      no less beautiful, because it was to be almost all glass upon two sides.
+      Helen was rejoiced that the architect realized the importance of the fact
+      that &ldquo;a music room ought to be out of doors;&rdquo; and then as she made the
+      further welcome discovery that the moon would shine into it, she vowed
+      eagerly that there would be no lights at all in her music room at those
+      times. Afterwards she told a funny story of how Schumann had been wont to
+      improvise under such circumstances, until his next-door neighbor was so
+      struck by the romance of it that he proceeded to imitate it, and to play
+      somebody or other's technical studies whenever the moon rose; at which
+      narrative Helen and the architect laughed very heartily, and Mr. Harrison
+      with them, though he would not have known the difference between a
+      technical study and the &ldquo;Moonlight Sonata.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Altogether, Helen was about as happy as ever throughout that afternoon,
+      tho one who watched her closely might have thought there was something
+      nervous about her animation, especially later on, when the talk with the
+      architect was nearing its end; Helen's eyes had once or twice wandered
+      uneasily about the room, and when finally the man rose to leave, she asked
+      him with a sudden desperate resolution to look over the rest of the rooms
+      and see what he thought of her suggestions. The latter expressed himself
+      as pleased to oblige her, but he would probably have been somewhat
+      chagrined had he known how little Helen really attended to his remarks;
+      her mind was in a whirl, and all that he said sounded distant and vague;
+      her one wish was that he might stay and give her time to think.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Helen found the uselessness of shrinking, and the time came at last
+      when she saw to her despair that there was no more to say, and that the
+      man must go. In a few minutes more he was actually gone, and she was left
+      all alone in the great house with Mr. Harrison.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two went back into the dining room, where Mr. Harrison stood leaning
+      his hand upon the table, and Helen stood in front of him, her lips
+      trembling. Twice she made a faint attempt to speak, and then she turned
+      and began pacing up and down the room in agitation. Mr. Harrison was
+      watching her, seeing that there was something on her mind, and also that
+      her emotion made her more beautiful and more disturbing to him than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Helen went and sat down upon a sofa at one side, and clenching her
+      hands very tightly about her knees, looked up at him and said, in a faint
+      voice, &ldquo;I had something to say to you, Mr. Harrison.&rdquo; Then she stopped,
+      and her eyes fell, and her breath came very hard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, dear?&rdquo; asked Mr. Harrison gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen's lips trembled more than ever, and her voice sank still lower
+      as she said, &ldquo;I&mdash;I don't know how to begin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other was silent for a few moments more, after which he came slowly
+      across the room and sat down beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I had something to say to you also; suppose I say it
+      first?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl's chest was heaving painfully, and her heart throbbing violently,
+      but she gazed into his eyes, and smiled, and answered him &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo; He
+      took one of her burning hands in his, and she made no resistance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, dear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;do you remember it was nearly a week ago that we
+      stood in this same room, and that you promised to be my wife? You were
+      very cold to me then. I have been waiting patiently for you to change a
+      little, not venturing to say anything for fear of offending you. But it is
+      very hard&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had bent forward pleadingly, and his face was very close to hers,
+      trying to read her heart. Perhaps it was well that he could not, for it
+      would have frightened him. The moment was one of fearful suffering for
+      Helen, tho there was no sign of it, except that she was trembling like a
+      leaf, and that her lips were white. There was just a moment of suspense,
+      and then with a cruel effort she mastered herself and gazed up at the man,
+      a smile forcing itself to her lips again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it that you wish?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you to care for me,&rdquo; the other said&mdash;&ldquo;to love me just a
+      little, Helen; will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I think so,&rdquo; was the reply, in a scarcely audible voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Mr. Harrison pressed her hand in his and bent forward eagerly. &ldquo;Then I
+      may kiss you, dear?&rdquo; he asked; &ldquo;you will not mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen bowed her head and answered, &ldquo;No.&rdquo; In this same instant, as she
+      sank forward the man clasped her in his arms; he pressed her upon his
+      bosom, and covered her cheeks and forehead with his passionate, burning
+      kisses. Helen, crushed and helpless in his grasp, felt a revulsion of
+      feeling so sudden and so overwhelming that it was an agony to her, and she
+      almost screamed aloud. She was choking and shuddering, and her cheeks were
+      on fire, while in the meantime Mr. Harrison, almost beside himself with
+      passion, pressed her tighter to him and poured out his protestations of
+      devotion. Helen bore it until she was almost mad with the emotion that had
+      rushed over her, and then she made a wild effort to tear herself free. Her
+      hair was disordered, and her face red, and her whole being throbbing with
+      shame, but he still held her in his tight embrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not angry, Helen dear?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; the girl gasped
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You told me that I might kiss you,&rdquo; he said; and she was so choking with
+      her emotion that she could not answer a word, she could only shudder and
+      submit to his will. And Mr. Harrison, supposing that her emotions were
+      very different from what they were, rested her head upon his shoulder,
+      smoothing back her tangled hair and whispering into her ear how beautiful
+      she was beyond any dream of his, and how the present moment was the
+      happiest of his lifetime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it would never come, dear,&rdquo; he said, kissing her forehead
+      again, &ldquo;you were so very cold.&rdquo; Helen had not yet ceased fighting the
+      fearful battle in her own heart, and so as he looked into her eyes, she
+      gazed up at him and forced another ghastly smile to her lips: they looked
+      so very beautiful that Mr. Harrison kissed them again and again, and he
+      would probably have been content to kiss them many times more, and to
+      forget everything else in the bliss, had Helen been willing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But she felt just then that if the strain continued longer she would go
+      mad; with a laugh that was half hysterical, she tore herself loose by main
+      force, and sprang up, reminding the other that he had a train to catch.
+      Mr. Harrison demurred, but the girl would hear no more, and she took him
+      by the hand and led him to the door, still laughing, and very much flushed
+      and excited, so that he thought she was happier than ever. It would have
+      startled him could he have seen her as he went to call for the horses,&mdash;how
+      she staggered and clung to a pillar for support, as white as the marble
+      she leaned against.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not see her, however, and when the two were driving rapidly away
+      she was as vivacious as ever; Helen had fought yet one more conflict, and
+      her companion was not skilled enough in the study of character to perceive
+      that it was a desperate and hysterical kind of animation. Poor Helen was
+      facing gigantic shadows just then, and life wore its most fearful and
+      menacing look to her; she had plunged so far in her contest that it was
+      now a battle for life and death, and with no quarter. She had made the
+      choice of &ldquo;Der Atlas,&rdquo; of endless joy or endless sorrow, and in her
+      struggle to keep the joy she was becoming more and more frantic, more and
+      more terrified at the thought of the other possibility. She knew that to
+      fail now would mean shame and misery more overwhelming than she could
+      bear, and so she was laughing and talking with frenzied haste; and every
+      now and then she would stop and shudder, and then race wildly on,&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Like one, that on a lonesome road
+    Doth walk in fear and dread,
+  And having once turned round walks on,
+    And turns no more his head;
+  Because he knows a frightful fiend
+    Doth close behind him tread.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And so all through the ride, because the girl's shame and fear haunted her
+      more and more, she became more and more hysterical, and more and more
+      desperate; and Mr. Harrison thought that he had never seen her so
+      brilliant, and so daring, and so inspired; nor did he have the least idea
+      how fearfully overwrought she was, until suddenly as they came to a fork
+      in the road he took a different one than she expected, and she clutched
+      him wildly by the arm. &ldquo;Why do you do that?&rdquo; she almost screamed. &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; he asked in surprise. &ldquo;Take this road?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; exclaimed Helen. &ldquo;Stop! Stop!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's only half a mile or so farther,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, reining up
+      his horses, &ldquo;and I thought you'd like the change.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; panted Helen, with more agitation than ever. &ldquo;But I can't,&mdash;we'd
+      have to go through Hilltown!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The wondering look of course did not leave the other's face at that
+      explanation. &ldquo;You object to Hilltown?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, shuddering; &ldquo;it is a horrible place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, I thought it was a beautiful town,&rdquo; laughed he. &ldquo;But of course it is
+      for you to say.&rdquo; Then he gazed about him to find a place to turn the
+      carriage. &ldquo;We'll have to go on a way,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The road is too narrow
+      here. I'm sorry I didn't ask you, but I had no idea it made any
+      difference.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They continued, however, for fully a mile, and the road remained narrow,
+      so that there was danger of upsetting in the ditch if they tried to turn.
+      &ldquo;What do you wish me to do?&rdquo; Mr. Harrison asked with a smile. &ldquo;The more we
+      go on the longer it will take us if we are to go back, and I may miss my
+      train; is your prejudice against Hilltown so very strong, Miss Davis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no,&rdquo; Helen answered, with a ghastly smile. &ldquo;Pray go on; it's of no
+      consequence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As a matter of fact, it was of the greatest consequence; for that incident
+      marked the turning point of the battle in Helen's heart. Her power seemed
+      to go from her with every turn of the wheels that brought her nearer to
+      that dreaded place, and she became more and more silent, and more
+      conscious of the fearful fact that her wretchedness was mastering her
+      again. It seemed to her terrified imagination as if everything was growing
+      dark and threatening, as before the breaking of a thunderstorm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must indeed dislike Hilltown, Miss Davis,&rdquo; said her companion,
+      smiling. &ldquo;Why are you so very silent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen made no reply; she scarcely heard him, in fact, so taken up was she
+      with what was taking place in her own mind; all her thoughts then were
+      about Arthur and what had become of him, and what he was thinking about
+      her; and chiefest of all, because her cheeks and forehead had a fearfully
+      conscious feeling, what he would think, could he know what she had just
+      been doing. Thus it was that as the houses of Hilltown drew near, remorse
+      and shame and terror were rising, and her frantic protests against them
+      were weakening, until suddenly every emotion was lost in suspense, and the
+      shadows of the great elm-trees that arched the main street of the town
+      closed them in. Helen knew the house where Arthur lodged, and knew that
+      she should pass it in another minute; she could do nothing but wait and
+      watch and tremble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage rattled on, gazed at by many curious eyes, for everyone in
+      Hilltown knew about the young beauty and the prize she had caught; but
+      Helen saw no one, and had eyes for only one thing, the little white house
+      where Arthur lodges. The carriage swept by and she saw no one, but she saw
+      that the curtain of Arthur's room was drawn, and she shuddered at the
+      thought, &ldquo;Suppose he should be dying!&rdquo; Yet it was a great load off her
+      mind to have escaped seeing him, and she was beginning to breathe again
+      and ask herself if she still might not win the battle, when the carriage
+      came to the end of the town, and to a sight that froze her blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a tavern by the roadside, a low saloon that was the curse of the
+      place, and she saw from the distance a figure come out of the door. Her
+      heart gave a fearful throb, for it was a slender figure, clad in black,
+      hatless and with disordered hair and clothing. In a moment more, as Helen
+      clutched the rail beside her and stared wildly, the carriage had swept on
+      and come opposite the man; and he glanced up into Helen's eyes, and she
+      recognized the face, in spite of all its ghastly whiteness and its sunken
+      cheeks; it was Arthur!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was just an instant's meeting of their looks, and then the girl was
+      whirled on; but that one glance was enough to leave her as if paralyzed.
+      She made no sound, nor any movement, and so her companion did not even
+      know that anything had happened until they had gone half a mile farther;
+      then as he chanced to glance at her he reined up his horses with a cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; The girl clutched his arm so
+      tightly that he winced, powerful man that he was. &ldquo;Take me home,&rdquo; she
+      gasped. &ldquo;Oh, quick, please take me home!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;Peace! Sit you down,
+  And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
+  If it be made of penetrable stuff.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen ran up to her room when she reached home, and shut herself in, and
+      after that she had nothing to do but suffer. All of her excitement was
+      gone from her then, and with it every spark of her strength; the fiends
+      that had been pursuing her rose up and seized hold of her, and lashed her
+      until she writhed and cried aloud in agony. She was helpless to resist
+      them, knowing not which way to turn or what to do,&mdash;completely cowed
+      and terrified. But there was no more sinking into the dull despair that
+      had mastered her before; the face of Arthur, as she had seen it in that
+      one glimpse, had been burned into her memory with fire, and she could not
+      shut it from her sight; when the fact that he had come from the tavern,
+      and what that must mean rose before her, it was almost more than she could
+      bear, cry out as she might that she could not help it, that she never
+      could have helped it, that she had nothing to do with it. Moreover, if
+      there was any possibility of the girl's driving out that specter, there
+      was always another to take its place. It was not until she was alone in
+      her room, until all her resolution was gone, and all of her delusions,
+      that she realized the actual truth about what she had done that afternoon;
+      it was like a nightmare to her then. She seemed always to feel the man's
+      arms clasping her, and whenever she thought of his kisses her forehead
+      burned her like fire, so that she flung herself down by the bedside, and
+      buried it in the pillows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was thus that her aunt found her when she came in to call Helen to
+      dinner; and this time the latter's emotions were so real and so keen that
+      there was no prevailing over them, or persuading her to anything. &ldquo;I don't
+      want to eat!&rdquo; she cried again and again in answer to her aunt's alarmed
+      insistence. &ldquo;No, I am not coming down! I want to be alone! Alone, Aunt
+      Polly&mdash;please leave me alone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Helen,&rdquo; protested Mrs. Roberts, &ldquo;won't you please tell me what is
+      the matter? What in the world can have happened to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't tell you,&rdquo; the girl cried hysterically. &ldquo;I want you to go and
+      leave me alone!&rdquo; And she shut the door and locked it, and then began
+      pacing wildly up and down the room, heedless of the fact that her aunt was
+      still standing out in the hallway; the girl was too deeply shaken just
+      then to have any thought about appearances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was thinking about Arthur again, and about his fearful plight; there
+      rushed back upon her all the memories of their childhood, and of the
+      happiness which they had known together. The thought of the broken figure
+      which she had seen by the roadside became more fearful to her every
+      moment. It was not that it troubled her conscience, for Helen could still
+      argue to herself that she had done nothing to wrong her friend, that there
+      had been nothing selfish in her attitude towards him; she had wished him
+      to be happy. It seemed to her that it was simply a result of the cruel
+      perversity of things that she had been trampling upon her friend's
+      happiness in order to reach her own, and that all her struggling had only
+      served to make things worse. The fact that it was not her fault, however,
+      did not make the situation seem less tragic and fearful to her; it had
+      come to such a crisis now that it drove her almost mad to think about it,
+      yet she was completely helpless to know what to do, and as she strode up
+      and down the room, she clasped her hands to her aching head and cried
+      aloud in her perplexity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then too her surging thoughts hurried on to another unhappiness,&mdash;to
+      her father, and what he would say when he learned the dreadful news. How
+      could she explain it to him? And how could she tell him about her
+      marriage? At the mere thought of that the other horror seized upon her
+      again, and she sank down in a chair by the window and hid her face in her
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how can I have done it?&rdquo; she gasped to herself. &ldquo;Oh, it was so
+      dreadful! And what am I to do now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That last was the chief question, the one to which all others led; yet it
+      was one to which she could find no answer. She was completely confused and
+      helpless, and she exclaimed aloud again and again, &ldquo;Oh, if I could only
+      find some one to tell me! I do not know how I can keep Arthur from
+      behaving in that dreadful way, and I know that I cannot ever marry Mr.
+      Harrison!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The more she tortured herself with these problems, the more agitated she
+      became. She sat there at the window, clutching the sill in her hands and
+      staring out, seeing nothing, and knowing only that the time was flying,
+      and that her anxiety was building itself up and becoming an agony which
+      she could not bear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, what am I to do?&rdquo; she groaned again and again; and she passed hours
+      asking herself the fearful question; the twilight had closed about her,
+      and the moon had risen behind the distant hills.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So oblivious to all things about her was she, that she failed at first to
+      notice something else, something which would ordinarily have attracted her
+      attention at once,&mdash;a sound of music which came to her from somewhere
+      near. It was the melody of Grieg's &ldquo;An den Frubling&rdquo; played upon a violin,
+      and it had stolen into Helen's heart and become part of her own stormy
+      emotion before she had even thought of what it was or whence it came. The
+      little piece is the very soul of the springtime passion, and to the girl
+      it was the very utterance of all her yearning, lifting her heart in a
+      great throbbing prayer. When it had died away her hands were clenched very
+      tightly, and her breath was coming fast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She remained thus for a minute, forgetful of everything; then at last she
+      found herself thinking &ldquo;it must be Mr. Howard,&rdquo; and waiting to see if he
+      would play again. But he did not do so, and Helen sat in silence for a
+      long time, her thoughts turned to him. She found herself whispering &ldquo;so he
+      is a wonderful musician after all,&rdquo; and noticing that the memory of his
+      wan face frightened her no longer; it seemed just then that there could be
+      no one in the world more wretched than herself. She was only wishing that
+      he would begin again, for that utterance of her grief had seemed like a
+      victory, and now in the silence she was sinking back into her despair. The
+      more she waited, the more impatient she grew, until suddenly she rose from
+      her seat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He might play again if I asked him,&rdquo; she said to herself. &ldquo;He would if he
+      knew I was unhappy; I wonder where he can be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's window was in the front of the house, opening upon a broad lawn
+      whose walks were marked in the moonlight by the high shrubbery that lined
+      them. Some distance beyond, down one of the paths, were two summer-houses,
+      and it seemed to her that the music had come from one of them, probably
+      the far one, for it had sounded very soft. No sooner had the thought come
+      to her than she turned and went quietly to the door. She ran quickly down
+      the steps, and seeing her aunt and Mr. Roberts upon the piazza, she turned
+      and passed out by one of the side doors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had yielded to a sudden impulse in doing thus, drawn by her yearning
+      for the music. When she thought about it as she walked on it seemed to her
+      a foolish idea, for the man could not possibly know of her trouble, and
+      moreover was probably with his friend the lieutenant. But she did not stop
+      even then, for her heart's hunger still drove her on, and she thought,
+      &ldquo;I'll see, and perhaps he will play again without my asking; I can sit in
+      the near summer-house and wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went swiftly on with that purpose in mind, not going upon the path,
+      because she would have been in the full moonlight, and in sight of the two
+      upon the piazza. She passed silently along by the high hedge, concealed in
+      its shadows, and her footsteps deadened by the grass. She was as quiet as
+      possible, wishing to be in the summer-house without anyone's knowing it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she had come very close to it indeed, within a few yards, when
+      suddenly she stopped short with an inward exclamation; the silence of the
+      twilight had been broken by a voice&mdash;one that seemed almost beside
+      her, and that startled her with a realization of the mistake she had made.
+      The two men were themselves in the house to which she had been going.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Mr. Howard's voice which she heard; he was speaking very low,
+      almost in a whisper, yet Helen was near enough to hear every word that he
+      uttered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most people would think it simply a happy and beautiful piece of music,&rdquo;
+       he said. &ldquo;Most people think that of the springtime; but when a man has
+      lived as I, he may find that the springtime too is a great labor and a
+      great suffering,&mdash;he does not forget that for the thousands of
+      creatures that win the great fight and come forth rejoicing, there are
+      thousands and tens of thousands that go down, and have their mite of life
+      crushed out, and find the law very stern indeed. Even those that win do it
+      by a fearful effort, and cannot keep their beauty long; so that the
+      springtime passion takes on a kind of desperate intensity when one thinks
+      of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The voice ceased again for a moment, and Helen stood gazing about her; the
+      words were not without a dimly-felt meaning to her just then, and the tone
+      of the man's voice seemed like the music she had heard him play. She would
+      have liked to stay and listen, tho she knew that she had no right to. She
+      was certain that she had not been seen, because the little house was
+      thickly wrapped about with eglantine; and she stood, uncertain as to
+      whether she ought to steal back or go out and join the two men. In the
+      meantime the voice began again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It gives a man a new feeling of the preciousness of life to know keenly
+      what it means to fail, to be like a tiny spark, struggling to maintain
+      itself in the darkness, and finding that all it can do is not sufficient,
+      and that it is sinking back into nothingness forever. I think that is the
+      meaning of the wild and startled look that the creatures of the forest
+      wear; and it is a very tragic thing indeed to realize, and makes one full
+      of mercy. If he knows his own heart he can read the same thing in the
+      faces of men, and he no longer even laughs at their pride and their
+      greediness, but sees them quite infinitely wretched and pitiable. I do not
+      speak merely of the poor and hopeless people, the hunted creatures of
+      society; for this terror is not merely physical. It is the same imperative
+      of life that makes conscience, and so every man knows it who has made
+      himself a slave to his body, and sees the soul within him helpless and
+      sinking; and every man who has sinned and sees his evil stamped upon the
+      face of things outside him, in shapes of terror that must be forever.
+      Strange as it may seem, I think the man who lives most rightly, the man of
+      genius, knows the feeling most of all, because his conscience is the
+      quickest. It is his task to live from his own heart, to take the power
+      that is within him and wrestle with it, and build new universes from it,&mdash;to
+      be a pioneer of the soul, so to speak, and to go where no man has ever
+      been before; and yet all his victory is nothing to him, because he knows
+      so well what he might have done. Every time that he shrinks, as he must
+      shrink, from what is so hard and so high in his own vision, he knows that
+      yet another glory is lost forever, and so it comes that he stands very
+      near indeed to the'tears of things.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stopped again, and Helen found herself leaning forward and
+      wondering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know more about those tears than most people,&rdquo; the man went on slowly,
+      after a long pause, &ldquo;for I have had to build my own life in that way; I
+      know best of all the failure, for that has been my lot. When you and I
+      knew each other, I was very strong in my own heart, and I could always
+      find what joy and power I needed for the living of my life; but there have
+      come to me since, in the years that I have dwelt all alone with my great
+      trial, times when I think that I have stood face to face with this thing
+      that we speak of, this naked tragedy and terror of existence. There have
+      been times when all the yearning and all the prayer that I had could not
+      save me, when I have known that I had not an ounce of resource left, and
+      have sat and watched the impulse of my soul die within me, and all my
+      strength go from me, and seen myself with fearful plainness as a spark of
+      yearning, a living thing in all its pitifulness and hunger, helpless and
+      walled up in darkness. To feel that is to be very near indeed to the
+      losing creatures and their sorrow, and the memory of one such time is
+      enough to keep a man merciful forever. For it is really the deepest fact
+      about life that a man can know;&mdash;how it is so hazardous and so
+      precious, how it keeps its head above the great ocean of the infinite only
+      by all the force it can exert; it happens sometimes that a man does not
+      discover that truth until it is too late, and then he finds life very
+      cruel and savage indeed, I can tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stopped, and Helen drew a deep breath; she had been trembling
+      slightly as she stood listening; then as he spoke again, her heart gave a
+      violent throb. &ldquo;Some day,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;this girl that we were talking about
+      will have to come to that part of her life's journey; it is a very sad
+      thing to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will understand her sonata better,&rdquo; said the officer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;I wish I could think even that; I know how sorrow
+      affects a person whose heart is true, how it draws him close to the great
+      heart of life, and teaches him its sacredness, and sends him forth
+      merciful and humble. But selfish misery and selfish fear are no less ugly
+      than selfish happiness; a person who suffers ignobly becomes only
+      disgusted and disagreeable, and more selfish than ever. * * * But let us
+      not talk any more about Miss Davis, for it is not a pleasant subject; to a
+      man who seeks as I do to keep his heart full of worship the very air of
+      this place is stifling, with its idleness and pride. It gives the lie to
+      all my faith about life, and I have only to go back into my solitude and
+      forget it as soon as I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That ought not to be a difficult thing to do,&rdquo; said the officer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is for me,&rdquo; the other answered; &ldquo;it haunts my thoughts all the time.&rdquo;
+       He paused for a while, and then he added, &ldquo;I happened to think of
+      something I came across this morning, in a collection of French verse I
+      was reading; William, did you ever read anything of Auguste Brizeux?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other answered in the negative.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has some qualities that are very rare in French poetry,&rdquo; went on Mr.
+      Howard. &ldquo;He makes one think of Wordsworth. I happened to read a homely
+      little ballad of his,&mdash;a story of some of that tragedy of things that
+      we spoke of; one could name hundreds of such poems quite as good, I
+      suppose, but this happened to be the one I came across, and I could not
+      help thinking of Miss Davis and wondering if she were really so cold and
+      so hard that she could have heard this story without shuddering. For it
+      really shook me very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; the other asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can tell you the story in a few words,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard. &ldquo;To me it was
+      one of those flashes of beauty that frighten one and haunt him long
+      afterwards; and I do not quite like to think about it again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The speaker's voice dropped, and the girl involuntarily crept a little
+      nearer to hear him; there was a tree in front of her, and she leaned
+      against it, breathing very hard, tho making no sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ballad is called 'Jacques the Mason,'&rdquo; said Mr. Howard, &ldquo;There are
+      three little pictures in it; in the first of them you see two men setting
+      off to their work together, one of them bidding his wife and children
+      good-by, and promising to return with his friend for an evening's feast,
+      because the great building is to be finished. Then you see them at work,
+      swarming upon the structure and rejoicing in their success; and then you
+      hear the shouts of the crowd as the scaffolding breaks, and see those two
+      men hanging over the abyss, clinging to a little plank. It is not strong
+      enough to hold them both, and it is cracking, and that means a fearful
+      death; they try to cling to the stones of the building and cannot, and so
+      there comes one of those fearful moments that makes a man's heart break to
+      think of. Then in the fearful silence you hear one of the men whisper that
+      he has three children and a wife; and you see the other gaze at him an
+      instant with terror in his eyes, and then let go his hold and shoot down
+      to the street below. And that is all of the story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stopped, and there followed a long silence; afterwards he went
+      on, his voice trembling: &ldquo;That is all,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;except of course that
+      the man was killed. And I can think of nothing but that body hurled down
+      through the air, and the crushed figure and the writhing limbs. I fancy
+      the epic grandeur of soul of that poor ignorant laborer, and the glory
+      that must have flamed up in his heart at that great instant; so I find it
+      a dreadful poem, and wonder if it would not frighten that careless girl to
+      read it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stopped again, and the officer asked if the story were true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know that,&rdquo; answered the other, &ldquo;nor do I care; it is enough to
+      know that every day men are called upon to face the shuddering reality of
+      existence in some such form as that. And the question which it brought to
+      my heart is, if it came to me, as terrible as that, and as sudden and
+      implacable, would I show myself the man or the dastard? And that filled me
+      with a fearful awe and humility, and a guilty wonder whether somewhere in
+      the world there might not be a wall from which I should be throwing
+      myself, instead of nursing my illness as I do, and being content to read
+      about greatness. And oh, I tell you, when I think of such things as that,
+      and see the pride and worthlessness of this thing that men call 'high
+      life,' it seemed to me no longer heedless folly, but dastardly and
+      fiendish crime, so that one can only bury his face in his hands and sob to
+      know of it. And William, the more I realized it, the more unbearable it
+      seemed to me that this glorious girl with all her God-given beauty, should
+      be plunging herself into a stream so foul. I felt as if it were cowardice
+      of mine that I did not take her by the hand and try to make her see what
+      madness she was doing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you not?&rdquo; asked the lieutenant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I should have, in my more Quixotic days,&rdquo; replied the other,
+      sadly; &ldquo;and perhaps some day I may find myself in a kind of high life
+      where royal sincerity is understood. But in this world even an idealist
+      has to keep a sense of humor, unless he happens to be dowered with an
+      Isaiah's rage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard paused for a moment and laughed slightly; then, however, he
+      went on more earnestly: &ldquo;Yet, as I think of it, I know that I could
+      frighten her; I think that if I should tell her of some of the days and
+      nights that I have spent in tossing upon a bed of fire, she might find the
+      cup of her selfishness a trifle less pleasant to drink. It is something
+      that I have noticed with people, that they may be coarse or shallow enough
+      to laugh at virtue and earnestness, but there are very few who do not bow
+      their heads before suffering. For that is something physical; and they may
+      harden their conscience if they please, but from the possibility of bodily
+      pain they know that they can never be safe; and they seem to know that a
+      man who has walked with that demon has laid his hand upon the grim reality
+      of things, before which their shams and vanities shrink into nothingness.
+      The sight of it is always a kind of warning of the seriousness of life,
+      and so even when people feel no sympathy, they cannot but feel fear; I saw
+      for instance, that the first time this girl saw me she turned pale, and
+      she would not come anywhere near me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the speaker paused again, Lieutenant Maynard said, very quietly: &ldquo;I
+      should think that would be a hard cross to bear, David.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard, with a slight smile, &ldquo;I had not that thought in my
+      mind. I have seen too much of the reality of life to trouble myself or the
+      the world with vanity of that very crude kind; I can sometimes imagine
+      myself being proud of my serenity, but that is one step beyond at any
+      rate. A man who lives in his soul very seldom thinks of himself in an
+      external way; when I look in the glass it is generally to think how
+      strange it is that this form of mine should be that which represents me to
+      men, and I cannot find anything they might really learn about me, except
+      the one physical fact of suffering.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They can certainly not fail to learn that,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Mr. Howard sadly, &ldquo;I know, if any man does, what it is to
+      earn one's life by suffering and labor. That is why I have so mastering a
+      sense of life's preciousness, and why I cannot reconcile myself to this
+      dreadful fact of wealth. It is the same thing, too, that makes me feel so
+      keenly about this girl and her beauty, and keeps her in my thoughts. I
+      don't think I could tell you how the sight of her affected me, unless you
+      knew how I have lived all these lonely years. For I have had no friends
+      and no strength for any of the world's work, and all my battle has been
+      with my own soul, to be brave and to keep my self-command through all my
+      trials; I think my illness has acted as a kind of nervous stimulus upon
+      me, as if it were only by laboring to dwell upon the heights of my being
+      night and day that I could have strength to stand against despair. The
+      result is that I have lived for days in a kind of frenzy of effort, with
+      all my faculties at white heat; and it has always been the artist's life,
+      it has always been beauty that brought me the joy that I needed, and given
+      me the strength to go on. Beauty is the sign of victory, and the prize of
+      it, in this heart's battle; the more I have suffered and labored, the more
+      keenly I have come to feel that, until the commonest flower has a song for
+      me. And William, the time I saw this girl she wore a rose in her hair, but
+      she was so perfect that I scarcely saw the flower; there is that in a
+      man's heart which makes it that to him the fairest and most sacred of
+      God's creatures must always be the maiden. When I was young, I walked
+      about the earth half drunk with a dream of love; and even now, when I am
+      twice as old as my years, and burnt out and dying, I could not but start
+      when I saw this girl. For I fancied that she must carry about in that
+      maiden's heart of hers some high notion of what she meant in the world,
+      and what was due to her. When a man gazes upon beauty such as hers, there
+      is a feeling that comes to him that is quite unutterable, a feeling born
+      of all the weakness and failure and sin of his lifetime. For every true
+      man's life is a failure; and this is the vision that he sought with so
+      much pain, the thing that might have been, had he kept the faith with his
+      own genius. It is so that beauty is the conscience of the artist; and that
+      there must always be something painful and terrible about high perfection.
+      It was that way that I felt when I saw this girl's face, and I dreamt my
+      old dream of the sweetness and glory of a maiden's heart. I thought of its
+      spotlessness and of its royal scorn of baseness; and I tell you, William,
+      if I had found it thus I could have been content to worship and not even
+      ask that the girl look at me. For a man, when he has lived as I have
+      lived, can feel towards anything more perfect than himself a quite
+      wonderful kind of humility; I know that all the trouble with my helpless
+      struggling is that I must be everything to myself, and cannot find
+      anything to love, and so be at peace. That was the way I felt when I saw
+      this Miss Davis, all that agitation and all that yearning; and was it not
+      enough to make a man mock at himself, to learn the real truth? I was glad
+      that it did not happen to me when I was young and dependent upon things
+      about me; is it not easy to imagine how a young man might make such a
+      woman the dream of his life, how he might lay all his prayer at her feet,
+      and how, when he learned of her fearful baseness, it might make of him a
+      mocking libertine for the rest of his days?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think it baseness?&rdquo; asked Lieutenant Maynard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tried to persuade myself at first that it must be only blindness; I
+      wondered to myself, 'Can she not see the difference between the life of
+      these people about her and the music and poetry her aunt tells me she
+      loves?' I never waste any of my worry upon the old and hardened of these
+      vulgar and worldly people; it is enough for me to know why the women are
+      dull and full of gossip, and to know how much depth there is in the pride
+      and in the wisdom of the men. But it was very hard for me to give up my
+      dream of the girl's purity; I rememher I thought of Heine's 'Thou art as a
+      flower,' and my heart was full of prayer. I wondered if it might not be
+      possible to tell her that one cannot combine music and a social career,
+      and that one cannot really buy happiness with sin; I thought that perhaps
+      she might be grateful for the warning that in cutting herself off from the
+      great deepening experience of woman she was consigning herself to
+      stagnation and wretchedness from which no money could ever purchase her
+      ransom; I thought that possibly she did not see that this man knew nothing
+      of her preciousness and had no high thoughts about her beauty. That was
+      the way I argued with myself about her innocence, and you may fancy the
+      kind of laughter that came over me at the truth. It is a ghastly thing,
+      William, the utter hardness, the grim and determined worldliness, of this
+      girl. For she knew very well what she was doing, and all the ignorance was
+      on my part. She had no care about anything in the world until that man
+      came in, and the short half hour that I watched them was enough to tell
+      her that her life's happiness was won. But only think of her, William,
+      with all her God-given beauty, allowing herself to be kissed by him! Try
+      to fancy what new kind of fiendishness must lie in her heart! I remember
+      that she is to marry him because he pays her millions, and the word
+      prostitution keeps haunting my memory; when I try to define it, I find
+      that the millions do not alter it in the least. That is a very cruel
+      thought,&mdash;a thought that drives away everything but the prayer&mdash;and
+      I sit and wonder what fearful punishment the hand of Fate will deal out
+      for such a thing as that, what hatefulness it will stamp upon her for a
+      sign to men. And then because the perfect face still haunts my memory, I
+      have a very Christ-like feeling indeed,&mdash;that I could truly die to
+      save that girl from such a horror.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was another long silence, and then suddenly, Mr. Howard rose from
+      his seat. &ldquo;William,&rdquo; he said in a different voice, &ldquo;it is all useless, so
+      why should we talk so? The girl has to live her own life and learn these
+      things for herself. And in the meantime, perhaps I am letting myself be
+      too much moved by her beauty, for there are many people in the world who
+      are not beautiful, but who suffer things they do not deserve to suffer,
+      and who really deserve our sympathy and help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I fancy you'd not be much thanked for it in this case,&rdquo; said the other,
+      with a dry laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stood for some moments in silence, and then turned away to end
+      the conversation. &ldquo;I fear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that I have kept you more than I
+      have any right to. Let us go back to the house; it is not very polite to
+      our hostess to stay so long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be nearly time for my train, anyhow,&rdquo; said the officer, and a
+      moment later the two had passed out of the summer-house and up the path,
+      Lieutenant Maynard carrying Mr. Howard's violin-case in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two did not see Helen as they passed her; the reason was that Helen
+      was stretched out upon the ground by the side of the hedge. It was not
+      that she was hiding,&mdash;she had no thought of that; it was because she
+      had been struck there by the scathing words that she had heard. Some of
+      them were so bitter that they could only have filled her with rage had she
+      not known that they were true, and had she not been awed by what she had
+      learned of this man's heart. She could feel only terror and fiery shame,
+      and the cruel words had beaten her down, first upon her knees, and then
+      upon her face, and they lashed her like whips of flame and tore into her
+      flesh and made her writhe. She dared not cry out, or even sob; she could
+      only dig into the ground with her quivering fingers, and lie there,
+      shuddering in a fearful way. Long after the two men were gone her cruel
+      punishment still continued, for she still seemed to hear his words, seared
+      into her memory with fire as they had been. What Mr. Howard had said had
+      come like a flash of lightning in the darkness to show her actions as they
+      really were; the last fearful sentences which she had heard had set all
+      her being aflame, and the thought of Mr. Harrison's embraces filled her
+      now with a perfect spasm of shame and loathing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sold myself to him for money!&rdquo; she panted. &ldquo;Oh, God, for money!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But then suddenly she raised herself up and stared about her, crying out,
+      half-hysterically, &ldquo;No, no, it is not true! It is not true! I could never
+      have done it&mdash;I should have gone mad!&rdquo; And a moment later Helen had
+      staggered to her feet. &ldquo;I must tell him,&rdquo; she gasped. &ldquo;He must not think
+      so of me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard had come to her as a vision from a higher world, making all
+      that she had known and admired seem hideous and base; and her one thought
+      just then was of him. &ldquo;He will still scorn me,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;but I must
+      tell him I really did suffer.&rdquo; And heedless of the fact that her hair was
+      loose about her shoulders and her dress wet with the dew of the grass, the
+      girl ran swiftly up the lawn towards the house, whispering again and
+      again, &ldquo;I must tell him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only a minute more before she was near the piazza, and could see
+      the people upon it as they stood in the lighted doorway. Mr. Howard was
+      one of them, and Helen would have rushed blindly up to speak to him, had
+      it not been that another thought came to her to stop her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Suppose he should know of Arthur!&rdquo; she muttered, clenching her hands
+      until the nails cut her flesh. &ldquo;Oh, what would he think then? And what
+      could I tell him?&rdquo; And she shrank back into the darkness, like a black and
+      guilty thing. She crept around the side of the house and entered by
+      another door, stealing into one of the darkened parlors, where she flung
+      herself down upon a sofa and lay trembling before that new terror. When a
+      few minutes had passed and she heard a carriage outside, she sprang up
+      wildly, with the thought that he might be going. She had run half way to
+      the door before she recollected that the carriage must be for the
+      lieutenant, and then she stopped and stood still in the darkness, twisting
+      her hands together nervously and asking herself what she could do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It occurred to her that she could look down the piazza from the window of
+      the room, and so she went swiftly to it. The officer was just descending
+      to the carriage, Mr. Roberts with him, and her aunt and Mr. Howard
+      standing at the top of the steps, the latter's figure clearly outlined in
+      the moonlight. Helen's heart was so full of despair and yearning just then
+      that she could have rushed out and flung herself at his feet, had he been
+      alone; but she felt a new kind of shrinking from her aunt. She stood
+      hesitating, therefore, muttering to herself, &ldquo;I must let him know about it
+      somehow, and he will tell me what to do. Oh, I MUST! And I must tell him
+      now, before it is too late!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood by the window, panting and almost choking with her emotion,
+      kneading her hands one upon the other in frenzied agitation; and then she
+      heard Mr. Howard say to her aunt, &ldquo;I shall have to ask you to excuse me
+      now, for I must not forget that I am an invalid.&rdquo; And Helen clutched her
+      burning temples, seeing him turn to enter the house, and seeing that her
+      chance was going. She glanced around her, almost desperate, and then
+      suddenly her heart gave a great leap, for just beside her was something
+      that had brought one resource to her mind. She had seen the piano in the
+      dim light, and had thought suddenly of the song that Mr. Howard had
+      mentioned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will remember!&rdquo; she thought swiftly, as she ran to the instrument and
+      sat down before it. With a strength born of her desperation she mastered
+      the quivering of her hands, and catching her breath, began in a weak and
+      trembling voice the melody of Rubenstein:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Thou art as a flower,
+    So pure and fair thou art;
+  I gaze on thee, and sorrow
+    Doth steal into my heart.
+
+  &ldquo;I would lay my hands upon thee,
+    Upon thy snowy brow,
+  And pray that God might keep thee
+    So pure and fair as now.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen did not know how she was singing, she thought only of telling her
+      yearning and her pain; she was so choked with emotion that she could
+      scarcely utter a sound at all, and the song must have startled those who
+      heard it. It was laden with all the tears that had been gathering in
+      Helen's heart for days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not finish the song; she was thinking, &ldquo;Will he understand?&rdquo; She
+      stopped suddenly as she saw a shadow upon the porch outside, telling her
+      that Mr Howard had come nearer. There was a minute or so of breathless
+      suspense and then, as the shadow began to draw slowly backwards, Helen
+      clenched her hands convulsively, whispering to herself, &ldquo;He will think it
+      was only an accident! Oh, what can I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There are some people all of whose emotions take the form of music; there
+      came into Helen's mind at that instant a melody that was the very soul of
+      her agitation and her longing&mdash;MacDowell's &ldquo;To a Water Lily;&rdquo; the
+      girl thought of what Mr. Howard had said about the feeling that comes to
+      suffering mortals at the sight of something perfect and serene, and she
+      began playing the little piece, very softly, and with trembling hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is quite wonderful music; to Helen with her heart full of grief and
+      despair, the chords that floated so cold and white and high were almost
+      too much to be borne. She played desperately on, however, because she saw
+      that Mr. Howard had stopped again, and she did not believe that he could
+      fail to understand that music.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she continued until she came to the pleading song of the swan. The
+      music is written to a poem of Geibel's which tells of the snow-white lily,
+      and of the bird which wonders at its beauty; afterwards, because there is
+      nothing in all nature more cold and unapproachable than a water-lily, and
+      because one might sing to it all day and never fancy that it heard him,
+      the first melody rises again, as keen and as high as ever, and one knows
+      that his yearning is in vain, and that there is nothing for him but his
+      old despair. When Helen came to that she could go no farther, for her
+      wretchedness had been heaping itself up, and her heart was bursting. Her
+      fingers gave way as she struck the keys, and she sank down and hid her
+      face in her arms, and broke into wild and passionate sobbing. She was
+      almost choking with her pent-up emotions, so shaken that she was no longer
+      conscious of what went on about her. She did not hear Mr. Howard's voice,
+      as he entered, and she did not even hear the frightened exclamations of
+      her aunt, until the latter had flung her arms about her. Then she sprang
+      up and tore herself loose by main force, rushing upstairs and locking
+      herself in her own room, where she flung herself down upon the bed and
+      wept until she could weep no more, in the meantime not even hearing her
+      aunt's voice from the hallway, and altogether unconscious of the flight of
+      time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she sat up and brushed away her tangled hair and gazed about her,
+      everything in the house was silent. She herself was exhausted, but she
+      rose, and after pacing up and down the room a few minutes, seated herself
+      at the writing desk, and in spite of her trembling fingers, wrote a short
+      note to Mr. Gerald Harrison; then with a deep breath of relief, she rose,
+      and going to the window knelt down in front of it and gazed out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The moon was high in the sky by that time, and the landscape about her was
+      flooded with its light. Everything was so calm and still that the girl
+      held her breath as she watched it; but suddenly she gave a start, for she
+      heard the sound of a violin again, so very faint that she at first thought
+      she was deluding herself. As she listened, however, she heard it more
+      plainly, and then she realized in a flash that Mr. Howard must have heard
+      her long-continued sobbing, and that he was playing something for her. It
+      was Schumann's &ldquo;Traumerei;&rdquo; and as the girl knelt there her soul was borne
+      away upon the wings of that heavenly melody, and there welled up in her
+      heart a new and very different emotion from any that she had ever known
+      before; it was born, half of the music, and half of the calm and the
+      stillness of the night,&mdash;that wonderful peace which may come to
+      mortals either in victory or defeat, when they give up their weakness and
+      their fear, and become aware of the Infinite Presence. When the melody had
+      died away, and Helen rose, there was a new light in her eyes, and a new
+      beauty upon her countenance, and she knew that her soul was right at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
+  Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Naturally there was considerable agitation in the Roberts family on
+      account of Helen's strange behavior; early the next morning Mrs. Roberts
+      was at her niece's door, trying to gain admittance. This time she did not
+      have to knock but once, and when she entered she was surprised to see that
+      Helen was already up and dressing. She had been expecting to find the girl
+      more prostrated than ever, and so the discovery was a great relief to her;
+      she stood gazing at her anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, dear,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I scarcely know how to begin to talk to you
+      about your extraordinary&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish,&rdquo; interrupted Helen, &ldquo;that you would not begin to talk to me about
+      it at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you must explain to me what in the world is the matter,&rdquo; protested
+      the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot possibly explain to you,&rdquo; was the abrupt reply. Helen's voice
+      was firm, and there was a determined look upon her face, a look which
+      quite took her aunt by surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my dear girl!&rdquo; she began once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aunt Polly!&rdquo; said the other, interrupting her again, &ldquo;I wish instead of
+      talking about it you would listen to what I have to say for a few moments.
+      For I have made up my mind just what I am going to do, and I am going to
+      take the reins in my own hands and not do any arguing or explaining to
+      anyone. And there is no use of asking me a word about what has happened,
+      for I could not hope to make you understand me, and I do not mean to try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Helen uttered those words she fixed her eyes upon her aunt with an
+      unflinching gaze, with the result that Mrs. Roberts was quite too much
+      taken aback to find a word to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without waiting for anything more Helen turned to the table. &ldquo;Here is a
+      letter,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;which I have written to Mr. Harrison; you know his
+      address in New York, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His address?&rdquo; stammered the other; &ldquo;why,&mdash;yes, of course. But what
+      in the world&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish this letter delivered to him at once, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; Helen
+      continued. &ldquo;It is of the utmost importance, and I want you to do me the
+      favor to send someone into the city with it by the next train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Helen, dear&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now please do not ask me anything about it,&rdquo; went on the girl,
+      impatiently. &ldquo;I have told you that you must let me manage this affair
+      myself. If you will not send it I shall simply have to get someone to take
+      it. He must have it, and have it at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will it not do to mail it, Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, because I wish him to get it this morning.&rdquo; And Helen put the letter
+      into her aunt's hands, while the latter gazed helplessly, first at it, and
+      then at the girl. There is an essay of Bacon's in which is set forth the
+      truth that you can bewilder and master anyone if you are only sufficiently
+      bold and rapid; Mrs. Roberts was so used to managing everything and being
+      looked up to by everyone that Helen's present mood left her quite dazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor did the girl give her any time to recover her presence of mind. &ldquo;There
+      is only one thing more,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I want you to have breakfast as soon
+      as you can, and then to let me have a carriage at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A carriage?&rdquo; echoed the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Aunt Polly, I wish to drive over to Hilltown immediately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Hilltown!&rdquo; gasped Aunt Polly with yet greater consternation, and
+      showing signs of resistance at last; &ldquo;pray what&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Helen only came again to the attack, with yet more audacity and
+      confidence. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to Hilltown; I mean to go to see Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For answer to that last statement, poor Mrs. Roberts had simply no words
+      whatever; she could only gaze, and in the meantime, Helen was going calmly
+      on with her dressing, as if the matter were settled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will Mr. Howard be down to breakfast?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As he is going away to-day, I presume he will be down,&rdquo; was the reply,
+      after which Helen quickly completed her toilet, her aunt standing by and
+      watching her in the meantime.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, dear,&rdquo; she asked at last, after having recovered her faculties a
+      trifle, &ldquo;do you really mean that you will not explain to me a thing of
+      what has happened, or of what you are doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is so much, Aunt Polly, that I cannot possibly explain it now; I
+      have too much else to think of. You must simply let me go my way, and I
+      will tell you afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Helen, is that the right way to treat me? Is it nothing to you, all
+      the interest that I have taken in this and all that I have done for you,
+      that you should think so little of my advice?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not need any advice now,&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;Aunt Polly, I see exactly
+      what I should do, and I do not mean to stop a minute for anything else
+      until I have done it. If it seems unkind, I am very sorry, but in the
+      meantime it must be done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And while she was saying the words, Helen was putting on her hat; then
+      taking up her parasol and gloves she turned towards her aunt. &ldquo;I am ready
+      now,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and please let me have breakfast just as soon as you
+      can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was so much preoccupied with her own thoughts and purposes that
+      she scarcely even heard what her aunt said; she went down into the garden
+      where she could be alone, and paced up and down impatiently until she
+      heard the bell. Then she went up into the dining room, where she found her
+      aunt and uncle in conversation with Mr. Howard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had long been preparing herself to meet him, but she could not keep
+      her cheeks from flushing or keep from lowering her eyes; she bit her lips
+      together, however, and forced herself to look at him, saying very
+      resolutely, &ldquo;Mr. Howard, I have to drive over to Hilltown after breakfast,
+      and I wish very much to talk to you about something; would you like to
+      drive with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very much indeed,&rdquo; said he, quietly, after which Helen said not a word
+      more. She saw that her aunt and uncle were gazing at her and at each other
+      in silent wonder, but she paid no attention to it. After eating a few
+      hurried mouthfuls she excused herself, and rose and went outside, where
+      she saw the driving-cart which had been bought for her use, waiting for
+      her. It was not much longer before Mr. Howard was ready, for he saw her
+      agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is rather a strange hour to start upon a drive,&rdquo; she said to him, &ldquo;but
+      I have real cause for hurrying; I will explain about it.&rdquo; And then she
+      stopped, as her aunt came out to join them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only a moment more before Mr. Howard had excused himself, and the
+      two were in the wagon, Helen taking the reins. She waved a farewell to her
+      aunt and then started the horse, and they were whirled swiftly away down
+      the road.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the morning Helen's mind had been filled with things that she wished
+      to say to Mr. Howard. But now all her resolution seemed to have left her,
+      and she was trembling very much, and staring straight ahead, busying
+      herself with guiding the horse. When they were out upon the main road
+      where they might go as fast as they pleased without that necessity, she
+      swallowed the lump in her throat and made one or two nervous attempts to
+      speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard in the meantime had been gazing in front of him thoughtfully.
+      &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; he said suddenly, turning his eyes upon her, &ldquo;may I ask you
+      a question?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You heard all that I said about you last night?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen turned very red and looked away. &ldquo;Yes, I heard it all,&rdquo; she
+      said; and then there was a long silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was broken by the man, who began in a low voice: &ldquo;I scarcely know how,
+      Miss Davis, I can apologize to you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then he stopped short, for the girl had turned her glance upon him,
+      wonderingly. &ldquo;Apologize?&rdquo; she said; she had never once thought of that
+      view of it, and the word took her by surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard; &ldquo;I said so many hard and cruel things that I
+      cannot bear to think of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen still kept her eyes fixed upon him, as she said, &ldquo;Did you say
+      anything that was not true, Mr. Howard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man hesitated a moment, and then he answered: &ldquo;I said many things that
+      I had no right to say to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not it,&rdquo; said Helen simply. &ldquo;Did you say anything that was not
+      true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again Mr. Howard paused. &ldquo;I am quite sure that I did,&rdquo; he said at last.
+      &ldquo;Most of what I said I feel to have been untrue since I have seen how it
+      affected you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it made me so ashamed?&rdquo; said Helen. And then some of the thoughts
+      that possessed her forced their way out, and she hurried on impetuously:
+      &ldquo;That was the first thing I wanted to tell you. It is really true that you
+      were wrong, for I am not hard-hearted at all. It was something that my&mdash;that
+      people were making me do, and all the time I was wretched. It was
+      dreadful, I know, but I was tempted, because I do love beautiful things.
+      And it was all so sudden, and I could not realize it, and I had nobody to
+      advise me, for none of the people I meet would think it was wrong. You
+      must talk to me and help me, because I've got to be very strong; my aunt
+      will be angry, and when I get back perhaps Mr. Harrison will be there, and
+      I shall have to tell him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the girl stopped, out of breath and trembling with excitement; Mr.
+      Howard turned abruptly and fixed his dark eyes upon her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell him,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Tell him what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I shall not marry him, of course,&rdquo; answered Helen; the other gave a
+      start, but she was so eager that she did not even notice it. &ldquo;I could not
+      lose a minute,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;For it was so very dreadful, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you really mean not to marry him?&rdquo; asked the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mean it!&rdquo; echoed the girl, opening her eyes very wide. &ldquo;Why, how in the
+      world could you suppose&mdash;&rdquo; And then she stopped short, and laughed
+      nervously. &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I forgot; you might suppose anything.
+      But, oh, if I could tell you how I have suffered, Mr. Howard, you would
+      understand that I could never have such a thought again in the world.
+      Please do understand me, for if I had really been so base I should not
+      come to you as I do after what I heard. I cannot tell you how dreadfully I
+      suffered while I was listening, but after I had cried so much about it, I
+      felt better, and it seemed to me that it was the best thing that could
+      have happened to me, just to see my actions as they seemed to someone
+      else,&mdash;to someone who was good. I saw all at once the truth of what I
+      was doing, and it was agony to me to know that you thought so of me. That
+      was why I could not rest last night until I had told you that I was really
+      unhappy; for it was something that I was unhappy, wasn't it, Mr. Howard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;it was very much indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And oh, I want you to know the truth,&rdquo; Helen went on swiftly. &ldquo;Perhaps it
+      is just egotism on my part, and I have really no right to tell you all
+      about myself in this way; and perhaps you will scorn me when you come to
+      know the whole truth. But I cannot help telling you about it, so that you
+      may advise me what to do; I was all helpless and lost, and what you said
+      came last night like a wonderful light. And I don't care what you think
+      about me if you will only tell me the real truth, in just the same way
+      that you did; for I realized afterwards that it was that which had helped
+      me so. It was the first time in my life that it had ever happened to me;
+      when you meet people in the world, they only say things that they know
+      will please you, and that does you no good. I never realized before how a
+      person might go through the world and really never meet with another heart
+      in all his life; and that one can be fearfully lonely, even in a parlor
+      full of people. Did you ever think of that, Mr. Howard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard had fixed his keen eyes upon the girl as she went breathlessly
+      on; she was very pale, and the sorrow through which she had passed had
+      left, &ldquo;I have been so cold and wicked, that you will soon scorn me
+      altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think that is possible,&rdquo; said her companion, gently, as he saw
+      the girl choking back a sob.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, listen then,&rdquo; Helen began; but then she stopped again. &ldquo;Do you wish
+      me to tell you?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Do you care anything about it at all, or does
+      it seem&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I care very much about it, indeed,&rdquo; the other answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However dreadful it may seem,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;Oh, please know that while I
+      have been doing it, it has made me utterly wretched, and that I am so
+      frightened now that I can scarcely talk to you; and that if there is
+      anything that I can do&mdash;oh, absolutely anything&mdash;I will do it!&rdquo;
+       Then the girl bit her lips together and went on with desperate haste,
+      &ldquo;It's what you said about what would happen if there were someone else to
+      love me, and to see how very bad I was!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is some such person?&rdquo; asked the man, in a low voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;It is someone I have known as long as I can remember.
+      And he loves me very much indeed, I think; and while I was letting myself
+      be tempted in this way he was very sick, and because I knew I was so bad I
+      did not dare go near him; and yesterday when he heard I was going to marry
+      this man, it almost killed him, and I do not know what to fear now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, punishing herself very bravely and swallowing all her bitter shame,
+      Helen went on to tell Mr. Howard of Arthur, and of her friendship with
+      him, and of how long he had waited for her; she narrated in a few words
+      how he had left her, and then how she had seen him upon the road.
+      Afterwards she stopped and sat very still, trembling, and with her eyes
+      lowered, quite forgetting that she was driving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; said the other, gently, seeing how she was suffering, &ldquo;if
+      you wish my advice about this, I should not worry myself too much; it is
+      better, I find in my own soul's life, to save most of the time that one
+      spends upon remorse, and devote it to action.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To action?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;You have been very thoughtless, but you may hope
+      that nothing irrevocable has happened; and when you have seen your friend
+      and told him the truth just as you have told it to me, I fancy it will
+      bring him joy enough to compensate him for what he has suffered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was what I meant to do,&rdquo; the girl went on. &ldquo;But I have been
+      terrified by all sorts of fancies, and when I remember how much pain I
+      caused him, I scarcely dare think of speaking to him. When I saw him by
+      the roadside, Mr. Howard, he seemed to me to look exactly like you, there
+      was such dreadful suffering written in his face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man who lives as you have told me your friend has lived,&rdquo; said the
+      other, &ldquo;has usually a very great power of suffering; such a man builds for
+      himself an ideal which gives him all his joy and his power, and makes his
+      life a very glorious thing; but when anything happens to destroy his
+      vision or to keep him from seeking it, he suffers with the same intensity
+      that he rejoiced before. The great hunger that was once the source of his
+      power only tears him to pieces then, as steam wrecks a broken engine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's very dreadful,&rdquo; Helen said, &ldquo;how thoughtless I was all along. I only
+      knew that he loved me very much, and that it was a vexation to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard glanced at her. &ldquo;You do not love him?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen, quickly. &ldquo;If I had loved him, I could never have had a
+      thought of all these other things. But I had no wish to love anybody; it
+      was more of my selfishness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not,&rdquo; the other replied gently. &ldquo;Some day you may come to love
+      him, Miss Davis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; Helen said. &ldquo;Arthur was very impatient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When a man is swift and eager in all his life,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard, smiling,
+      &ldquo;he cannot well be otherwise in his love. Such devotion ought to be very
+      precious to a woman, for such hearts are not easy to find in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had turned and was gazing anxiously at Mr. Howard as he spoke to her
+      thus. &ldquo;You really think,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that I should learn to appreciate
+      Arthur's love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot know much about him from the little you have told me,&rdquo; was the
+      other's answer. &ldquo;But it seems to me that it is there you might find the
+      best chance to become the unselfish woman that you wish to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very strange,&rdquo; the girl responded, wonderingly, &ldquo;how differently
+      you think about it. I should have supposed I was acting very unwisely
+      indeed if I loved Arthur; everyone would have told me of his poverty and
+      obscurity, and of how I must give up my social career.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think differently, perhaps,&rdquo; Mr. Howard said, &ldquo;because I have lived so
+      much alone. I have come to know that happiness is a thing of one's own
+      heart, and not of externals; the questions I should ask about a marriage
+      would not be of wealth and position. If you really wish to seek the
+      precious things of the soul, I should think you would be very glad to
+      prove it by some sacrifice; and I know that two hearts are brought closer,
+      and all the memories of life made dearer, by some such trial in the early
+      days. People sneer at love in a cottage, but I am sure that love that
+      could wish to live anywhere else is not love. And as to the social career,
+      a person who has once come to know the life of the heart soon ceases to
+      care for any kind of life that is heartless; a social career is certainly
+      that, and in comparison very vulgar indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen looked a little puzzled, and repeated the word &ldquo;vulgar&rdquo; inquiringly.
+      Mr Howard smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the word I always use when I am talking about high life,&rdquo; he
+      said, laughing. &ldquo;You may hurl the words 'selfish' and 'worldly' at it all
+      you please, and never reach a vital spot; but the word 'vulgar' goes
+      straight to the heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must explain to me why it is that,&rdquo; said Helen, with so much
+      seriousness that the other could not help smiling again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps I cannot make anyone else see the thing as I do,&rdquo; was his reply.
+      &ldquo;And yet it seems rery simple. When a man lives a while in his own soul,
+      he becomes aware of the existence of a certain spiritual fact which gives
+      life all its dignity and meaning; he learns that this sacred thing demands
+      to be sought for, and worshiped; and that the man who honors it and seeks
+      it is only hailed as gentleman, and aristocrat, and that he who does not
+      honor it and seek it is vulgar, tho he be heir of a hundred earls, and
+      leader of all society, and lord of millions. Every day that one lives in
+      this presence that I speak of, he discovers a little more how sacred a
+      thing is true nobility, and how impertinent is the standard that values
+      men for the wealth they win, or for the ribbons they wear, or for anything
+      else in the world. I fancy that you, if you came once to love your friend,
+      would find it very easy to do without the admiration of those who go to
+      make up society; they would come to seem to you very trivial and empty
+      people, and afterwards, perhaps, even very cruel and base.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stopped; but then seeing that Helen was gazing at him
+      inquiringly once more he added, gravely, &ldquo;One could be well content to let
+      vain people strut their little hour and be as wonderful as they chose, if
+      it were not for the painful fact that they are eating the bread of honest
+      men, and that millions are toiling and starving in order that they may
+      have ease and luxury. That is such a very dreadful thing to know that
+      sometimes one can think of nothing else, and it drives him quite mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl sat very still after that, trembling a little in her heart;
+      finally she asked, her voice shaking slightly, &ldquo;Mr. Howard, what can one
+      do about such things?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very little,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;for they must always be; but at least one
+      can keep his own life earnest and true. A woman who felt such things very
+      keenly might be an inspiration to a man who was called upon to battle with
+      selfishness and evil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are thinking of Arthur once more?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered the other, with a slight smile. &ldquo;It would be a happy
+      memory for me, to know that I have been able to give you such an ideal.
+      Some of these days, you see, I am hoping that we shall again have a poet
+      with a conviction and a voice, so that men may know that sympathy and love
+      are things as real as money. I am quite sure there never was a nation so
+      ridiculously sodden as our own just at present; all of our maxims and ways
+      of life are as if we were the queer little Niebelung creatures that dig
+      for treasure in the bowels of the earth, and see no farther than the ends
+      of their shovels; we live in the City of God, and spend all our time
+      scraping the gold of the pavements. Your uncle told me this morning that
+      he did not see why a boy should go to college when he can get a higher
+      salary if he spends the four years in business. I find that there is
+      nothing to do but to run away and live alone, if one wants really to
+      believe that man is a spiritual nature, with an infinite possibility of
+      wonder and love; and that the one business of his life is to develop that
+      nature by contact with things about him; and that every act of narrow
+      selfishness he commits is a veil which he ties about his own eyes, and
+      that when he has tied enough of them, not all the pearl and gold of the
+      gorgeous East can make him less a pitiable wretch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stopped again, and smiled slightly; Helen sat gazing
+      thoughtfully ahead, thinking about his way of looking at life, and how
+      very strange her own actions seemed in the light of it. Suddenly, however,
+      because throughout all the conversation there had been another thought in
+      her consciousness, she glanced ahead and urged the horse even faster. She
+      saw far in the distance the houses of the place to which she was bound,
+      and she said nothing more, her companion also becoming silent as he
+      perceived her agitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had been constantly growing more anxious, so that now the carriage
+      could not travel fast enough; it seemed to her that everything depended
+      upon what she might find at Hilltown. It was only the thought of Arthur
+      that kept her from feeling completely free from her wretchedness; she felt
+      that she might remedy all the wrong that she had done, and win once more
+      the prize of a good conscience, provided only that nothing irretrievable
+      had happened to him. Now as she came nearer she found herself imagining
+      more and more what might have happened, and becoming more and more
+      impatient. There was a balance dangling before her eyes, with utter
+      happiness on one side and utter misery on the other; the issue depended
+      upon what she discovered at Hilltown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two sat in silence, both thinking of the same thing, as they whirled
+      past the place where Helen had seen Arthur before. The girl trembled as
+      she glanced at it, for all of the previous day's suffering rose before her
+      again, and made her fears still more real and importunate. She forced
+      herself to look, however, half thinking that she might see Arthur again;
+      but that did not happen, and in a minute or two more the carriage had come
+      to the house where he lived. She gave the reins to Mr. Howard, and sprang
+      quickly out; she rang the bell, and then stood for a minute, twitching her
+      fingers, and waiting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman who kept the house, and whom Helen knew personally, opened the
+      door; the visitor stepped in and gasped out breathlessly, &ldquo;Where is
+      Arthur?&rdquo; Her hands shook visibly as she waited for the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not in, Miss Davis,&rdquo; the woman answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is he?&rdquo; Helen cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; was the response. &ldquo;He has gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone!&rdquo; And the girl started back, catching at her heart. &ldquo;Gone where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know, Miss Davis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what&mdash;&rdquo; began the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This will tell you all I know,&rdquo; said the woman, as she fumbled in her
+      apron, and put a scrap of crumpled paper into Helen's trembling hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl seized it and glanced at it; then she staggered back against the
+      wall, ghastly pale and almost sinking. The note, in Arthur's hand, but so
+      unsteady as to be almost illegible, ran thus: &ldquo;You will find in this my
+      board for the past week; I am compelled to leave Hilltown, and I shall not
+      ever return.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And that was all. Helen stared at it and stared again, and then let it
+      fall and gazed about her, echoing, in a hollow voice, &ldquo;And I shall not
+      ever return!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all I can tell you about it,&rdquo; went on the woman. &ldquo;I have not seen
+      him since Elizabeth was here yesterday morning; he came back late last
+      night and packed his bag and went away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen sank down upon a chair and buried her face in her hands, quite
+      overwhelmed by the suddenness of that discovery. She remained thus for a
+      long time, without either sound or motion, and the woman stood watching
+      her, knowing full well what was the matter. When Helen looked up again
+      there was agony written upon her countenance. &ldquo;Oh, are you sure you have
+      no idea where I can find him?&rdquo; she moaned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Miss Davis,&rdquo; said the woman. &ldquo;I was asounded when I got this note.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But someone must know, oh, surely they must! Someone must have seen him,&mdash;or
+      he must have told someone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it likely that he took care not to,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The thought was a death-knell to Helen's last hope, and she sank down,
+      quite overcome; she knew that Arthur could have had but one motive in
+      acting as he had,&mdash;that he meant to cut himself off entirely from all
+      his old life and surroundings. He had no friends in Hilltown, and having
+      lived all alone, it would be possible for him to do it. Helen remembered
+      Mr. Howard's saying of the night before, how the sight of her baseness
+      might wreck a man's life forever, and the more she thought of that, the
+      more it made her tremble. It seemed almost more than she could bear to see
+      this fearful consequence of her sin, and to know that it had become a fact
+      of the outer world, and gone beyond her power. It seemed quite too cruel
+      that she should have such a thing on her conscience, and have it there
+      forever; most maddening of all was the thought that it had depended upon a
+      few hours of time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how can I have waited!&rdquo; she moaned. &ldquo;I should have come last night, I
+      should have stopped the carriage when I saw him! Oh, it is not possible!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps there are no more tragic words in human speech than &ldquo;Too late.&rdquo;
+       Helen felt just then as if the right even to repentance were taken from
+      her life. It was her first introduction to that fearful thing of which Mr.
+      Howard had told her upon their first meeting; in the deep loneliness of
+      her own heart Helen was face to face just then with FATE. She shrank back
+      in terror, and she struggled frantically, but she felt its grip of steel
+      about her wrist; and while she sat there with her face hidden, she was
+      learning to gaze into its eyes, and front their fiery terror. When she
+      looked up again her face was very white and pitiful to see, and she rose
+      from her chair and went toward the door so unsteadily that the woman put
+      her arm about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will tell me,&rdquo; she gasped faintly&mdash;&ldquo;you will tell me if you hear
+      anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other gently, &ldquo;I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Helen crept into the carriage again, looking so full of wretchedness
+      that her companion knew that the worst must have happened, and took the
+      reins and silently drove towards home, while the girl sat perfectly still.
+      They were fully half way home before she could find a word in which to
+      tell him of her misery. &ldquo;I shall never be happy in my life again!&rdquo; she
+      whispered. &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Howard, never in my life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the man gazed at her, he was frightened to see how grief and fear had
+      taken possession of her face; and yet there was no word that he could say
+      to soothe her, and no hope that he could give her. When the drive was
+      ended, she stole silently up to her room, to be alone with her misery once
+      more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Thou majestic in thy sadness.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Upon the present occasion there was no violent demonstration of emotion to
+      alarm the Roberts household, for Helen's grief was not of the kind to vent
+      itself in a passionate outburst and pass away. To be sure, she wept a
+      little, but the thoughts which haunted her were not of a kind to be
+      forgotten, and afterwards she was as wretched as ever. What she had done
+      seemed to her so dreadful that even tears were not right, and she felt
+      that she ought only to sit still and think of it, and be frightened; it
+      seemed to her just then as if she would have to do the same thing for the
+      rest of her days. She spent several hours in her room without once moving,
+      and without being disturbed, for her aunt was sufficiently annoyed at her
+      morning's reception not to visit her again. The lunch hour passed,
+      therefore, unthought of by Helen, and it was an hour or two later before
+      she heard her aunt's step in the hall, and her knock upon the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts entered and stood in the center of the room, gazing at Helen,
+      and at the look of helpless despair which she turned towards her; the
+      woman's own lips were set very tightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; she said abruptly, &ldquo;have you had your wish, and are you happy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen did not answer, nor did she half realize the question, so lost was
+      she in her own misery. She sat gazing at her aunt, while the latter went
+      on: &ldquo;You have had your way in one thing, at any rate, Helen; Mr. Harrison
+      is downstairs to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl gave a slight start, but then she answered quietly: &ldquo;Thank you,
+      Auntie; I shall go down and see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, &ldquo;do you still refuse to tell me anything of
+      what I ask you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was quite too much humbled to wish to oppose anyone just then; and
+      she answered mournfully, &ldquo;What is it that you wish?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish to know in the first place why you wanted to see Mr. Harrison.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wanted to see him to tell him that I could not marry him, Aunt Polly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Mrs. Roberts sat down opposite Helen and fixed her gaze upon her. &ldquo;I
+      knew that was it,&rdquo; she said grimly. &ldquo;Now, Helen, what in the world has
+      come over you to make you behave in this fashion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it is so much to tell you,&rdquo; began the girl; &ldquo;I don't know&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you find at Hilltown?&rdquo; went on her aunt persistently. &ldquo;Did you
+      see Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Aunt Polly, that is what is the matter; he has gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gone! Gone where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Away, Aunt Polly! Nobody saw him go, and he left a note saying that he
+      would never return. And I am so frightened&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts was gazing at her niece with a puzzled look upon her face.
+      She interrupted her by echoing the word &ldquo;frightened&rdquo; inquiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Auntie!&rdquo; cried the girl; &ldquo;for I may never be able to find him again,
+      to undo what I have done!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Mrs. Roberts responded with a wondering laugh, and observed, &ldquo;For my
+      part, I should think you'd be very glad to be rid of him so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw Helen give a start, but she could not read the girl's mind, and
+      did not know how much she had done to estrange her by those words. It was
+      as if Helen's whole soul had shrunk back in horror, and she sat staring at
+      her aunt with open eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you think,&rdquo; the other went on grimly, &ldquo;that I am going to share
+      all this wonderful sentimentality with you about that boy; but I assure
+      you that you don't know me! He may get you to weep over him because he
+      chooses to behave like a fool, but not me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was still for a moment, and then she said, in an awe-stricken voice:
+      &ldquo;Aunt Polly, I have wrecked Arthur's life!&rdquo; Mrs. Roberts responded with a
+      loud guffaw, which was to the other so offensive that it was like a blow
+      in the face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wrecked his life!&rdquo; the woman cried scornfully. &ldquo;Helen, you talk like a
+      baby! Can't you know in the first place that Arthur is doing all this
+      high-tragedy acting for nothing in the world but to frighten you? Wrecked
+      his life! And there you were, I suppose, all ready to get down on your
+      knees to him, and beg his pardon for daring to be engaged, and to promise
+      to come to his attic and live off bread and water, if he would only be
+      good and not run away!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts' voice was bitter and mocking, and her words seemed to Helen
+      almost blasphemy; it had never occurred to her that such grief as hers
+      would not be sacred to anyone. Yet there was no thought of anger in her
+      mind just then, for she had been chastened in a fiery furnace, and was too
+      full of penitence and humility for even that much egotism. She only bowed
+      her head, and said, in a trembling voice: &ldquo;Oh, Aunt Polly, I would stay in
+      an attic and live off bread and water for the rest of my days, if I could
+      only clear my conscience of the dreadful thing I have done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A beautiful sentiment indeed!&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, with a sniff of
+      disgust; and she stood surveying her niece in silence for a minute or two.
+      Then smothering her feelings a little, she asked her in a quieter voice,
+      &ldquo;And so, Helen, you are really going to fling aside the life opportunity
+      that is yours for such nonsense as this? There is no other reason?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is another reason, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;it is so dreadful of
+      you to ask me in that way. How CAN you have expected me to marry a man
+      just because he was rich?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;so that is it! And pray what put the idea into your
+      head so suddenly?&rdquo; She paused a moment, and then, as the girl did not
+      raise her head, she went on, sarcastically, &ldquo;I fancy I know pretty well
+      where you got all of these wonderful new ideas; you have not been talking
+      with Mr. Howard for nothing, I see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not for nothing,&rdquo; said Helen gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A nice state of affairs!&rdquo; continued the other angrily; &ldquo;I knew pretty
+      well that his head was full of nonsense, but when I asked him here I
+      thought at least that he would know enough about good manners to mind his
+      own affairs. So he has been talking to you, has he? And now you cannot
+      possibly marry a rich man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Roberts stopped, quite too angry to find any more words; but as she
+      sat for a minute or two, gazing at Helen, it must have occurred to her
+      that she would not accomplish anything in that way. She made an effort to
+      swallow her emotions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen, dear,&rdquo; she said, sitting down near her niece, &ldquo;why will you worry
+      me in this dreadful way, and make me speak so crossly to you? I cannot
+      tell you, Helen, what a torment it is to me to see you throwing yourself
+      away in this fashion; I implore you to stop and think before you take this
+      step, for as sure as you are alive you will regret it all your days. Just
+      think of it how you will feel, and how I will feel, when you look back at
+      the happiness you might have had, and know that it is too late! And,
+      Helen, it is due to nothing in the world but to your inexperience that you
+      have let yourself be carried away by these sublimities. You MUST know,
+      child, and you can see if you choose, that they have nothing to do with
+      life; they will not butter your bread, Helen, or pay your coachman, and
+      when you get over all this excitement, you will find that what I tell you
+      is true. Look about you in the world, and where can you find anybody who
+      lives according to such ideas?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ideas do you mean, Aunt Polly?&rdquo; asked Helen, with a puzzled look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't you suppose,&rdquo; answered the other, &ldquo;that I know perfectly well
+      what kind of stuff it is that Mr. Howard has talked to you? I used to hear
+      all that kind of thing when I was young, and I believed some of it, too,&mdash;about
+      how beautiful it was to marry for love, and to have a fine scorn of wealth
+      and all the rest of it; but it wasn't very long before I found out that
+      such opinions were of no use in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you don't believe in love, Aunt Polly?&rdquo; asked Helen, fixing her eyes
+      on the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the use of asking such an absurd question?&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;Of
+      course I believe in love; I wanted you to love Mr. Harrison, and you might
+      have, if you had chosen. I learned to love Mr. Roberts; naturally, a
+      couple have to love each other, or how would they ever live happily
+      together? But what has that to do with this ridiculous talk of Mr.
+      Howard's? As if two people had nothing else to do in the world but to love
+      each other! It's all very well, Helen, for a man who chooses to live like
+      Robinson Crusoe to talk such nonsense, but he ought not to put it in the
+      mind of a sentimental girl. He would very soon find, if he came out into
+      life, that the world isn't run by love, and that people need a good many
+      other things to keep them happy in it. You ought to have sense enough to
+      see that you've got to live a different sort of a life, and that Mr.
+      Howard knows nothing in the world about your needs. I don't go alone and
+      live in visions, and make myself imaginary lives, Helen; I look at the
+      world as it is. You will have to learn some day that the real way to find
+      happiness is to take things as you find them, and get the best out of life
+      you can. I never had one-tenth of your advantages, and yet there aren't
+      many people in the world better off than I am; and you could be just as
+      happy, if you would only take my advice about it. What I am talking to you
+      is common sense, Helen, and anybody that you choose to ask will tell you
+      the same thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Mrs. Roberts went on, quite fairly under way in her usual course of
+      argument, and rousing all her faculties for this last struggle. She was as
+      convinced as ever of the completeness of her own views, and of the effect
+      which they must have upon Helen; perhaps it was not her fault that she did
+      not know to what another person she was talking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In truth, it would not be easy to tell how great a difference there was in
+      the effect of those old arguments upon Helen; while she had been sitting
+      in her room alone and suffering so very keenly, the girl had been, though
+      she did not know it, very near indeed to the sacred truths of life, and
+      now as she listened to her aunt, she was simply holding her breath. The
+      climax came suddenly, for as the other stopped, Helen leaned forward in
+      her chair, and gazing deep into her eyes asked her, &ldquo;Aunt Polly, can it
+      really be that you do not know that what you have been saying to me is
+      dreadfully <i>wicked</i>?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was perhaps nothing that the girl could have done to take her
+      complacent relative more by surprise; Mrs. Roberts sat for a moment,
+      echoing the last word, and staring as if not quite able to realize what
+      Helen meant. As the truth came to her she turned quite pale.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to me,&rdquo; she said with a sneer, &ldquo;that I remember a time when it
+      didn't seem quite so wicked to you. If I am not mistaken you were quite
+      glad to do all that I told you, and to get as much as ever you could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was quite used to that taunt in her own heart, and to the pain that
+      it brought her, so she only lowered her eyes and said nothing. In the
+      meantime Mrs. Roberts was going on in her sarcastic tone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wicked indeed!&rdquo; she ejaculated, &ldquo;and I suppose all that I have been doing
+      for you was wicked too! I suppose it was wicked of me to watch over your
+      education all these years as I have, and to plan your future as if you
+      were my own child, so that you might amount to something in the world; and
+      it was wicked of me to take all the trouble that I have for your
+      happiness, and wicked of Mr. Roberts to go to all the trouble about the
+      trousseau that he has! The only right and virtuous thing about it all is
+      the conduct of our niece who causes us to do it all, and who promises
+      herself to a man and lets him go to all the trouble that he has, and then
+      gets her head full of sanctimonious notions and begins to preach about
+      wickedness to her elders!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had nothing to reply to those bitter words, for it was only too easy
+      just then to make her accuse herself of anything. She sat meekly
+      suffering, and thinking that the other was quite justified in all her
+      anger. Mrs. Roberts was, of course, quite incapable of appreciating her
+      mood, and continued to pour out her sarcasm, and to grow more and more
+      bitter. To tell the truth, the worthy matron had not been half so
+      unselfish in her hopes about Helen as she liked to pretend, and she showed
+      then that like most people of the world who are perfectly good-natured on
+      the surface, she could display no little ugliness when thwarted in her
+      ambitions and offended in her pride.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was not possible, however, for her to find a word that could seem to
+      Helen unjust, so much was the girl already humbled. It was only after her
+      aunt had ceased to direct her taunts at her, and turned her spite upon Mr.
+      Howard and his superior ideas, that it seemed to Helen that it was not
+      helping her to hear any more; then she rose and said, very gently, &ldquo;Aunt
+      Polly, I am sorry that you feel so about me, and I wish that I could
+      explain to you better what I am doing. I know that what I did at first was
+      all wrong, but that is no reason why I should leave it wrong forever. I
+      think now that I ought to go and talk to Mr. Harrison, who is waiting for
+      me, and after that I want you to please send me home, because father will
+      be there to-day, and I want to tell him about how dreadfully I have
+      treated Arthur, and beg him to forgive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, without waiting for any reply, the girl left the room and went
+      slowly down the steps. The sorrow that possessed her lay so deep upon her
+      heart that everything else seemed trivial in comparison, and she had put
+      aside and forgotten the whole scene with her aunt before she had reached
+      the parlor where Mr. Harrison was waiting; she did not stop to compose
+      herself or to think what to say, but went quickly into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Harrison, who was standing by the window, turned when he heard her;
+      she answered his greeting kindly, and then sat down and remained very
+      still for a moment or two, gazing at her hands in her lap. At last she
+      raised her eyes to him, and asked: &ldquo;Mr. Harrison, did you receive the
+      letter I wrote you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the other answered quickly, &ldquo;I did. I cannot tell you how much pain
+      it caused me. And, Helen&mdash;or must I call you Miss Davis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may call me Helen,&rdquo; said the girl simply. &ldquo;I was very sorry to cause
+      you pain,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;but there was nothing else that I could do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least,&rdquo; the other responded, &ldquo;I hope that you will not refuse to
+      explain to me why this step is necessary?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;it is right that I should tell you all,
+      no matter how hard it is to me to do it. It is all because of a great
+      wrong that I have done; I know that when I have told you, you will think
+      very badly of me indeed, but I have no right to do anything except to
+      speak the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She said that in a very low voice, not allowing her eyes to drop, and
+      wearing upon her face the look of sadness which seemed now to belong to it
+      always. Mr. Harrison gazed at her anxiously, and said: &ldquo;You seem to have
+      been ill, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been very unhappy, Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;and I do not
+      believe I can ever be otherwise again. Did you not notice that I was
+      unhappy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never thought of it until yesterday,&rdquo; the other replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Until the drive,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;that was the climax of it. I must tell you
+      the reason why I was so frightened then,&mdash;that I have a friend who
+      was as dear to me as if he were my brother, and he loved me very much,
+      very much more than I deserve to be loved by anyone; and when I was
+      engaged to you he was very ill, and because I knew I was doing so wrong I
+      did not dare to go and see him. That was why I was afraid to pass through
+      Hilltown. The reason I was so frightened afterwards is that I caught a
+      glimpse of him, and he was in such a dreadful way. This morning I found
+      that he had left his home and gone away, no one knows where, so that I
+      fear I shall never see him again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen paused, and the other, who had sat down and was leaning forward
+      anxiously, asked her, &ldquo;Then it is this friend that you love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; the girl replied, &ldquo;it is not that; I do not love anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But then I do not understand,&rdquo; went on Mr. Harrison, with a puzzled look.
+      &ldquo;You spoke of its having been so wrong; was it not your right to wish to
+      marry me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen, punishing herself as she had learned so bravely to do, did not
+      lower her eyes even then; she flushed somewhat, however, as she answered:
+      &ldquo;Mr. Harrison, do you know WHY I wished to marry you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other started a trifle, and looked very much at a loss indeed. &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+       he echoed. &ldquo;No, I do not know&mdash;that is&mdash;I never thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It hurts me more than I can tell you to have to say this to you,&rdquo; Helen
+      said, &ldquo;for you were right and true in your feeling. But did you think that
+      I was that, Mr. Harrison? Did you think that I really loved you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Probably the good man had never been more embarrassed in his life than he
+      was just then. The truth to be told, he was perfectly well aware why Helen
+      had wished to marry him, and had been all along, without seeing anything
+      in that for which to dislike her; he was quite without an answer to her
+      present question, and could only cough and stammer, and reach for his
+      handkerchief. The girl went on quickly, without waiting very long for his
+      reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I owe it to you to tell you the truth,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and then it will no
+      longer cause you pain to give me up. For I did not love you at all, Mr.
+      Harrison; but I loved all that you offered me, and I allowed myself to be
+      tempted thus, to promise to marry you. Ever afterwards I was quite
+      wretched, because I knew that I was doing something wicked, and yet I
+      never had the courage to stop. So it went on until my punishment came
+      yesterday. I have suffered fearfully since that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had said all that there was to be said, and she stopped and took a
+      deep breath of relief. There was a minute or two of silence, after which
+      Mr. Harrison asked: &ldquo;And you really think that it was so wrong to promise
+      to marry me for the happiness that I could offer you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gazed at him in surprise as she echoed, &ldquo;Was it so wrong?&rdquo; And at
+      the same moment even while she was speaking, a memory flashed across her
+      mind, the memory of what had occurred at Fairview the last time she had
+      been there with Mr. Harrison. A deep, burning blush mantled her face, and
+      her eyes dropped, and she trembled visibly. It was a better response to
+      the other's question than any words could have been, and because in spite
+      of his contact with the world he was still in his heart a gentleman, he
+      understood and changed color himself and looked away, feeling perhaps more
+      rebuked and humbled than he had ever felt in his life before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So they sat thus for several minutes without speaking a word, or looking
+      at each other, each doing penance in his own heart. At last, in a very low
+      voice, the man said, &ldquo;Helen, I do not know just how I can ever apologize
+      to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl answered quietly: &ldquo;I could not let you apologize to me, Mr.
+      Harrison, for I never once thought that you had done anything wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have done very wrong indeed,&rdquo; he answered, his voice trembling, &ldquo;for I
+      do not think that I had any right even to ask you to marry me. You make me
+      feel suddenly how very coarse a world I have lived in, and how much lower
+      than yours all my ways of thinking are. You look surprised that I say
+      that,&rdquo; he added, as he saw that the girl was about to interrupt him, &ldquo;but
+      you do not know much about the world. Do you suppose that there are many
+      women in society who would hesitate to marry me for my money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; said Helen, slowly; &ldquo;but, Mr. Harrison, you could
+      certainly never be happy with a woman who would do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think now that I should,&rdquo; the man replied, earnestly, &ldquo;but I did
+      not feel that way before. I did not have much else to offer, Helen, for
+      money is all that a man like me ever tries to get in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is so very wrong, Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; put in the other, quickly. &ldquo;When
+      people live in that way they come to lose sight of all that is right and
+      beautiful in life; and it is all so selfish and wicked!&rdquo; (Those were words
+      which might have made Mr. Howard smile a trifle had he been there to hear
+      them; but Helen was too much in earnest to think about being original.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said Mr. Harrison, &ldquo;and I used to believe in such things; but
+      one never meets anyone else that does, and it is so easy to live
+      differently. When you spoke to me as you did just now, you made me seem a
+      very poor kind of a person indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man paused, and Helen sat gazing at him with a worried look upon her
+      face. &ldquo;It was not that which I meant to do,&rdquo; she began, but then she
+      stopped; and after a long silence, Mr. Harrison took up the conversation
+      again, speaking in a low, earnest voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you have made me see that I am quite unworthy to ask
+      for your regard,&mdash;that I have really nothing fit to offer you. But I
+      might have one thing that you could appreciate,&mdash;for I could worship,
+      really worship, such a woman as you; and I could do everything that I
+      could think of to make myself worthy of you,&mdash;even if it meant the
+      changing of all my ways of life. Do you not suppose that you could quite
+      forget that I was a rich man, Helen, and still let me be devoted to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a look in Mr. Harrison's eyes as he gazed at her just then which
+      made him seem to her a different sort of a man,&mdash;as indeed he was.
+      She answered very gently. &ldquo;Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;it would be a great
+      happiness to me to know that anyone felt so about me. But I could never
+      marry you; I do not love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you do not think,&rdquo; asked the other, &ldquo;that you could ever come to love
+      me, no matter how long I might wait?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think so,&rdquo; Helen said in a low voice. &ldquo;I wish that you would not
+      ever think of me so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very easy to say that,&rdquo; the man answered, pleadingly, &ldquo;but how am I
+      to do it? For everything that I have seems cheap compared with the thought
+      of you. Why should I go on with the life I have been leading, heaping up
+      wealth that I do not know how to use, and that makes me no better and no
+      happier? I thought of you as a new motive for going on, Helen, and you
+      must know that a man cannot so easily change his feelings. For I really
+      loved you, and I do love you still, and I think that I always must love
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's own suffering had made her alive to other people's feelings, and
+      the tone of voice in which he spoke those words moved her very much. She
+      leaned over and laid her hand upon his,&mdash;something which she would
+      not have thought she could ever do.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Harrison,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I cannot tell you how much it hurts me to have
+      you speak to me so, for it makes me see more than ever how cruelly
+      unfeeling I have been, and how much I have wronged you. It was for that I
+      wished to beg you to forgive me, to forgive me just out of the goodness of
+      your heart, for I cannot offer any excuse for what I did. It makes me
+      quite wretched to have to say that, and to know that others are suffering
+      because of my selfishness; if I had any thought of the sacredness of the
+      beauty God has given me, I would never have let you think of me as you
+      did, and caused you the pain that I have. But you must forgive me, Mr.
+      Harrison, and help me, for to think of your being unhappy about me also
+      would be really more than I could bear. Sometimes when I think of the one
+      great sorrow that I have already upon my conscience, I feel that I do not
+      know what I am to do; and you must go away and forget about me, for my
+      sake if not for your own. I really cannot love anyone; I do not think that
+      I am fit to love anyone; I only do not want to make anyone else unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen stopped again, and pressed her hand upon Mr. Harrison's
+      imploringly. He sat gazing at her in silence for a minute, and then he
+      said, slowly: &ldquo;When you put it so, it is very hard for me to say anything
+      more. If you are only sure that that is your final word&mdash;that there
+      is really no chance that you could ever love me,&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am perfectly sure of it,&rdquo; the girl answered; &ldquo;and because I know how
+      cruel it sounds, it is harder for me to say than for you to hear. But it
+      is really the truth, Mr. Harrison. I do not think that you ought to see me
+      again until you are sure that it will not make you unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man sat for a moment after that, with his head bowed, and then he bit
+      his lip very hard and rose from his chair. &ldquo;You can never know,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;how lonely it makes a man feel to hear words like those.&rdquo; But he took
+      Helen's hand in his and held it for an instant, and then added: &ldquo;I shall
+      do as you ask me. Good-by.&rdquo; And he let her hand fall and went to the door.
+      There he stopped to gaze once again for a moment, and then turned and
+      disappeared, closing the door behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was left seated in the chair, where she remained for several
+      minutes, leaning forward with her head in her hands, and gazing steadily
+      in front of her, thinking very grave thoughts. She rose at last, however,
+      and brushed back the hair from her forehead, and went slowly towards the
+      door. It would have seemed lack of feeling to her, had she thought of it,
+      but even before she had reached the stairs the scene through which she had
+      just passed was gone from her mind entirely, and she was saying to
+      herself, &ldquo;If I could only know where Arthur is this afternoon!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mind was still full of that thought when she entered the room, where
+      she found her aunt seated just as she had left her, and in no more
+      pleasant humor than before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have told him, I suppose?&rdquo; she inquired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Helen said, &ldquo;I have told him, Aunt Polly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now you are happy, I suppose!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed, I am very far from that,&rdquo; said Helen, and she went to the
+      window; she stood there, gazing out, but with her thoughts equally far
+      away from the scene outside as from Mrs. Roberts' warnings and sarcasms.
+      The latter had gone on for several minutes before her niece turned
+      suddenly. &ldquo;Excuse me for interrupting you, Aunt Polly,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but I
+      want to know whether Mr. Howard has gone yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His train goes in an hour or so,&rdquo; said Mrs. Roberts, not very graciously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I will see if he is downstairs,&rdquo; Helen responded; &ldquo;I wish to
+      speak to him before he goes.&rdquo; And so she descended and found Mr. Howard
+      seated alone upon the piazza.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Taking a seat beside him, she said, &ldquo;I did not thank you when I left you
+      in the carriage, Mr. Howard, for having been so kind to me; but I was so
+      wrapped up in my worry&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understood perfectly,&rdquo; put in the other. &ldquo;I saw that you felt too
+      keenly about your discovery to have anything to say to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel no less keenly about it now,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;but I could not let you
+      go away until I had spoken to you.&rdquo; She gazed very earnestly at him as she
+      continued: &ldquo;I have to tell you how much you have done for me, and how I
+      thank you for it from the bottom of my heart. I simply cannot say how much
+      all that you have shown me has meant to me; I should have cared for
+      nothing but to have you tell me what it would be right for me to do with
+      my life,&mdash;if only it had not been for this dreadful misfortune of
+      Arthur's, which makes it seem as if it would be wicked for me to think
+      about anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard sat gazing in front of him for a moment, and then he said
+      gently, &ldquo;What if the change that you speak of were to be accomplished,
+      Miss Davis, without your ever thinking about it? For what is it that makes
+      the difference between being thoughtless and selfish, and being noble and
+      good, if it be not simply to walk reverently in God's great temple of
+      life, and to think with sorrow of one's own self? Believe me, my dear
+      friend, the best men that have lived on earth have seen no more cause to
+      be pleased with themselves than you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be true, Mr. Howard,&rdquo; said Helen, sadly, &ldquo;but it can do me no
+      good to know it. It does not make what happens to Arthur a bit less
+      dreadful to think of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the most painful fact about all our wrong,&rdquo; the other answered,
+      &ldquo;that no amount of repentance can ever alter the consequences. But, Miss
+      Davis, that is a guilt which all creation carries on its shoulders; it is
+      what is symbolized in the Fall of Man&mdash;that he has to realize that he
+      might have had infinite beauty and joy for his portion, if only the soul
+      within him had never weakened and failed. Let me tell you that he is a
+      lucky man who can look back at all his life and see no more shameful guilt
+      than yours, and no consequence worse than yours can be.&rdquo; As Mr. Howard
+      spoke he saw a startled look cross the girl's face, and he added, &ldquo;Do not
+      suppose that I am saying that to comfort you, for it is really the truth.
+      It oftens happens too, that the natures that are strongest and most ardent
+      in their search for righteousness have the worst sins to remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen did not answer for several moments, for the thought was strange to
+      her; then suddenly she gazed at the other very earnestly and said: &ldquo;Mr.
+      Howard, you are a man who lives for what is beautiful and high,&mdash;suppose
+      that YOU had to carry all through your life the burden of such guilt as
+      mine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man's voice was trembling slightly as he answered her: &ldquo;It is not hard
+      for me to suppose that, Miss Davis; I HAVE such a burden to carry.&rdquo; As he
+      raised his eyes he saw a still more wondering look upon her countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the consequences!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Surely, Mr. Howard, you could not
+      bear to live if you knew&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never known the consequences,&rdquo; said the man, as she stopped
+      abruptly; &ldquo;just as you may never know them; but this I know, that yours
+      could not be so dreadful as mine must be. I know also that I am far more
+      to blame for them than you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen could not have told what caused the emotion which made her shudder
+      so just then as she gazed into Mr. Howard's dark eyes. Her voice was
+      almost a whisper as she said, &ldquo;And yet you are GOOD!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am good,&rdquo; said the man gently, &ldquo;with all the goodness that any man can
+      claim, the goodness of trying to be better. You may be that also.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen sat for a long time in silence after that, wondering at what was
+      passing in her own mind; it was as if she had caught a sudden glimpse into
+      a great vista of life. She had always before thought of this man's
+      suffering as having been physical; and the deep movement of sympathy and
+      awe which stirred her now was one step farther from her own
+      self-absorption, and one step nearer to the suffering that is the heart of
+      things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Helen had to keep that thought and dwell upon it in solitude; there
+      was no chance for her to talk with Mr. Howard any more, for she heard her
+      aunt's step in the hall behind her. She had only time to say, &ldquo;I am going
+      home myself this afternoon; will you come there to see me, Mr. Howard? I
+      cannot tell you how much pleasure it would give me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing I should like to do more,&rdquo; the man answered; &ldquo;I hope to
+      keep your friendship. When would you like me to come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any time that you can,&rdquo; replied Helen. &ldquo;Come soon, for I know how unhappy
+      I shall be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      That was practically the last word she said to Mr. Howard, for her aunt
+      joined them, and after that the conversation was formal. It was not very
+      long before the carriage came for him, and Helen pressed his hand
+      gratefully at parting, and stood leaning against a pillar of the porch,
+      shading her eyes from the sun while she watched the carriage depart. Then
+      she sat down to wait for it to return from the depot for her, which it did
+      before long; and so she bid farewell to her aunt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a great relief to Helen; and while we know not what emotions it may
+      cause to the reader, it is perhaps well to say that he may likewise pay
+      his last respects to the worthy matron, who will not take part in the
+      humble events of which the rest of our story must be composed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For Helen was going home, home to the poor little parsonage of Oakdale!
+      She was going with a feeling of relief in her heart second only to her
+      sorow; the more she had come to feel how shallow and false was the
+      splendor that had allured her, the more she had found herself drawn to her
+      old home, with its memories that were so dear and so beautiful. She felt
+      that there she might at least think of Arthur all that she chose, and meet
+      with nothing to affront her grief; and also she found herself thinking of
+      her father's love with a new kind of hunger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she arrived, she found Mr. Davis waiting for her with a very anxious
+      look upon his countenance; he had stopped at Hilltown on his way, and
+      learned about Arthur's disappearance, and then heard from Elizabeth what
+      she knew about Helen's engagement. The girl flung herself into his arms,
+      and afterwards, quite overcome by the emotions that surged up within her,
+      sank down upon her knees before him and sobbed out the whole story, her
+      heart bursting with sorrow and contrition; as he lifted her up and kissed
+      her and whispered his beautiful words of pardon and comfort, Helen found
+      it a real homecoming indeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis was also able to calm her worry a little by telling her that he
+      did not think it possible that Arthur would keep his whereabouts secret
+      from him very long. &ldquo;When I find him, dear child,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it will all
+      be well again, for we will believe in love, you and I, and not care what
+      the great world says about it. I think I could be well content that you
+      should marry our dear Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, father, I do not love him,&rdquo; put in Helen faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may come in time,&rdquo; said the other, kissing her tenderly, and
+      smiling. &ldquo;There is no need to talk of it, for you are too young to marry,
+      anyway. And in the meantime we must find him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence after that. Helen sat down on the sofa beside her
+      father and put her arms about him and leaned her head upon his bosom,
+      drinking in deep drafts of his pardon and love. She told him about Mr.
+      Howard, and of the words of counsel which he had given her, and how he was
+      coming to see her again. Afterwards the conversation came back to Arthur
+      and his love for Helen, and then Mr. Davis went on to add something that
+      caused Helen to open her eyes very wide and gaze at him in wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is still another reason for wishing to find him soon,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;for something else has happened to-day that he ought to know about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I ought to tell you about it just now,&rdquo; said the other,
+      &ldquo;for it is a very sad story. But someone was here to see Arthur this
+      morning&mdash;someone whom I never expected to see again in all my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To see Arthur?&rdquo; echoed the girl in perplexity. &ldquo;Who could want to see
+      Arthur?&rdquo; As her father went on she gave a great start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was his mother,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen stared at him, gasping for breath as she echoed the words, &ldquo;His
+      mother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may well be astonished,&rdquo; said the clergyman. &ldquo;But the woman proved
+      beyond doubt that she was really the person who left Arthur with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did not recognize her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Helen; for it has been twenty-one or two years since I saw her, and
+      she has changed very much since then. But she told me that in all that
+      time she has never once lost sight of her boy, and has been watching all
+      that he did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where has she been?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She did not tell me,&rdquo; the other answered, &ldquo;but I fancy in New York. The
+      poor woman has lived a very dreadful life, a life of such wretched
+      wickedness that we cannot even talk about it; I think I never heard of
+      more cruel suffering. I was glad that you were not here to see her, or
+      know about it until after she was gone; she said that she had come to see
+      Arthur once, because she was going away to die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To die!&rdquo; exclaimed the girl, in horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis, &ldquo;to die; she looked as if she could not live many
+      days longer. I begged her to let me see that she was provided for, but she
+      said that she was going to find her way back to her old home, somewhere
+      far off in the country, and she would hear of nothing else. She would not
+      tell the name of the place, nor her own name, but she left a letter for
+      Arthur, and begged me to find him and give it to him, so that he might
+      come and speak to her once if he cared to do so. She begged me to forgive
+      her for the trouble she had caused me, and to pray that God would forgive
+      her too; and then she bade me farewell and dragged herself away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Davis stopped, and Helen sat for a long time staring ahead of her,
+      with a very frightened look in her eyes, and thinking, &ldquo;Oh, we MUST find
+      Arthur!&rdquo; Then she turned to her father, her lips trembling and her
+      countenance very pale. &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; she said, in a low, awe-stricken voice,
+      &ldquo;a long time ago someone must have wronged that woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis, &ldquo;when she was not even as old as you are. And
+      the man who wronged her was worth millions of dollars, Helen, and could
+      have saved her from all her suffering with a few of them if he cared to.
+      No one but God knows his name, for the woman would not tell it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen sat for a moment or two staring at him wildly; and then suddenly she
+      buried her head in his bosom and burst into tears, sobbing so cruelly that
+      her father was sorry he had told her what he had. He knew why that story
+      moved her so, and it wrung his heart to think of it,&mdash;that this child
+      of his had put upon her own shoulders some of that burden of the guilt of
+      things, and must suffer beneath it, perhaps for the rest of her days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Helen gazed up at him again there was the old frightened look upon
+      her face, and all his attempts to comfort her were useless. &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; she
+      whispered. &ldquo;No, father! I cannot even think of peace again, until we have
+      found Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Freundliches Voglein!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII.
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;A fugitive and gracious light he seeks,
+    Shy to illumine; and I seek it too.
+  This does not come with houses or with gold,
+    With place, with honor, and a flattering crew;
+  'Tis not in the world's market bought and sold.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Three days passed by after Helen had returned to her father, during which
+      the girl stayed by herself most of the time. When the breaking off of her
+      engagement was known, many of her old friends came to see her, but the
+      hints that they dropped did not move her to any confidences; she felt that
+      it would not be possible for her to find among them any understanding of
+      her present moods. Her old life, or rather the life to which she had been
+      looking forward, seemed to her quite empty and shallow, and there was
+      nothing useful that she knew of to do except to offer to help her father
+      in such ways as she could. She drew back into her own heart, giving most
+      of her time to thinking about Mr. Howard and Arthur, and no one but her
+      father knew why it was that she was so subdued and silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only on the third morning, when there came a letter from Mr. Howard
+      saying that he was coming out that afternoon to see her, that Helen seemed
+      to be interested and stirred again. She went to the window more than once
+      to look for him; and when at last her friend had arrived, and the two were
+      seated in the parlor, she said to him without waiting for any
+      circumstance, &ldquo;I have been wishing very much to see you, Mr. Howard,
+      because there is something I am anxious to talk to you about, if you will
+      let me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry to say that it is about myself,&rdquo; she went on, when the other
+      had expressed his willingness to hear her, &ldquo;for I want to ask you to help
+      me, and to give me some advice. I ought to have asked you the questions I
+      am going to before this, but the last time I saw you I could think about
+      nothing but Arthur. They only came to me after you had gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are they?&rdquo; asked the man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must knew, Mr. Howard,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;that it is you who have shown me
+      the wrongness of all that I was doing in my life, and stirred me with a
+      desire to do better. I find now that such thoughts have always been so far
+      from me that the wish to be right is all that I have, and I do not know at
+      all what to do. It seemed to me that I would rather talk to you about it
+      than to anyone, even my own father. I do not know whether that is just
+      right, but you do not mind my asking you, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is my wish to help you in every way that I can,&rdquo; was the gentle
+      response.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you what I have been thinking,&rdquo; said Helen. &ldquo;I have been so
+      unhappy in the last three days that I have done nothing at all; but it
+      seemed to me somehow that it must be wrong of me to let go of myself in
+      that way&mdash;as if I had no right to pamper myself and indulge my own
+      feelings. It was not that I wished to forget what wrong things I have
+      done, or keep from suffering because of them; yet it seemed to me that the
+      fact that I was wretched and frightened was no excuse for my doing no good
+      for the rest of my life. When I have thought about my duty before, it has
+      always been my school-girl's task of studying and practicing music, but
+      that is not at all what I want now, for I cannot bear to think of such
+      things while the memory of Arthur is in my mind. I need something that is
+      not for myself, Mr. Howard, and I find myself thinking that it should be
+      something that I do not like to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen paused for a moment, gazing at the other anxiously; and then she
+      went on: &ldquo;You must know that what is really behind what I am saying is
+      what you said that evening in the arbor, about the kind of woman I ought
+      to be because God has made me beautiful. My heart is full of a great
+      hunger to be set right, and to get a clearer sight of the things that are
+      truly good in life. I want you to talk to me about your own ideals, and
+      what you do to keep your life deep and true; and then to tell me what you
+      would do in my place. I promise you that no matter how hard it may be I
+      shall feel that just what you tell me to do is my duty, and at least I
+      shall never be happy again until I have done it. Do you understand how I
+      feel, Mr. Howard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the man answered, in a quiet voice, &ldquo;I understand you perfectly.&rdquo;
+       And then as he paused, watching the girl from beneath his dark brows,
+      Helen asked, &ldquo;You do not mind talking to me about yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When a man lives all alone and as self-centered as I,&rdquo; the other replied,
+      smiling, &ldquo;it is fatally easy for him to do that; he may blend himself with
+      his ideals in such a curious way that he never talks about anything else.
+      But if you will excuse that, I will tell you what I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me why it is that you live so much alone,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;Is it
+      that you do not care for friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very difficult for a man who feels about life as I do to find many
+      friends,&rdquo; he responded. &ldquo;If one strives to dwell in deep things, and is
+      very keen and earnest about it, he is apt to find very little to help him
+      outside of himself; perhaps it is because I have met very few persons in
+      my life, but it has not happened to me to find anyone who thinks about it
+      as I do, or who cares to live it with my strenuousness. I have met
+      musicians, some who labored very hard at their art, but none who felt it a
+      duty to labor with their own souls, to make them beautiful and strong; and
+      I have met literary men and scholars, but they were all interested in
+      books, and were willing to be learned, and to classify and plod; I have
+      never found one who was swift and eager, and full of high impatience for
+      what is real and the best. There should come times to a man, I think, when
+      he feels that books are an impertinence, when he knows that he has only
+      the long-delayed battle with his own heart to fight, and the prize of its
+      joy to win. When such moods come upon him he sees that he has to live his
+      life upon his knees, and it is rarely indeed that he knows of anyone who
+      can follow him and share in his labor. So it is that I have had to live
+      all my life by myself, Miss Davis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have always done that?&rdquo; Helen asked, as he stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;or for very many years. I have a little house on the
+      wildest of lakes up in the mountains, wyhere I play the hermit in the
+      summer, and where I should have been now if it had not been that I yielded
+      to your aunt's invitation. When I spoke of having no friends I forgot the
+      things of Nature, which really do sympathize with an artist's life; I find
+      that they never fail to become full of meaning whenever my own spirit
+      shakes off its bonds. It has always been a belief of mine that there is
+      nothing that Nature makes that is quite so dull and unfeeling as man,&mdash;with
+      the exception of children and lovers, I had much rather play my violin for
+      the flowers and the trees.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You like to play it out of doors?&rdquo; Helen asked, with a sudden smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; laughed the other, &ldquo;that is one of my privileges as a hermit. It
+      seems quite natural to the wild things, for they have all a music of their
+      own, a wonderful, silent music that the best musicians cannot catch; do
+      you not believe that, Miss Davis?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Helen said, and sat gazing at her companion silently for a minute.
+      &ldquo;I should think a life of such effort would be very hard,&rdquo; she said
+      finally. &ldquo;Do you not ever fail?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not do much else,&rdquo; he replied with a sad smile, &ldquo;and get up and
+      stumble on. The mastership of one's heart is the ideal, you know; and
+      after all one's own life cannot be anything but struggle and failure, for
+      the power he is trying to conquer is infinite. When I find my life very
+      hard I do not complain, but know that the reason for it is that I have
+      chosen to have it real, and that the essence of the soul is its effort. I
+      think that is a very important thing to feel about life, Miss Davis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is why I do not wish to be idle,&rdquo; said Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is just because people do not know this fact about the soul,&rdquo; the
+      other continued, &ldquo;and are not willing to dare and suffer, and overcome
+      dullness, and keep their spiritual faculties free, that they sink down as
+      they grow older, and become what they call practical, and talk very wisely
+      about experience. It is only when God sends into the world a man of genius
+      that no mountains of earth can crush, and who keeps his faith and
+      sweetness all through his life that we learn the baseness of the thought
+      that experience necessarily brings cynicism and selfishness. There is to
+      me in all this world nothing more hateful than this disillusioned
+      worldliness, and nothing makes me angrier than to see it taking the name
+      of wisdom. If I were a man with an art, there is nothing, I think, that I
+      should feel more called to make war upon; it is a very blow in the face of
+      God. Nothing makes me sadder than to see the life that such people live,&mdash;to
+      see for instance how pathetic are the things they call their
+      entertainments; and when one knows himself that life is a magic potion, to
+      be drank with rapture and awe,&mdash;that every instance of it ought to be
+      a hymn of rejoicing, and the whole of it rich and full of power, like some
+      majestic symphony. I often find myself wishing that there were some way of
+      saving the time that people spend in their pleasures;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;'Life piled on life
+  Were all too little, and of one to me
+  Little remains.'
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      As I kneel before God's altar of the heart I know that if I had infinite
+      time and infinite energy there would be beauty and joy still to seek, and
+      so as I look about me in the world and see all the sin and misery that is
+      in it, it is my comfort to know that the reason for it is that men are
+      still living the lives of the animals, and have not even dreamed of the
+      life that belongs to them as men. That is something about which I feel
+      very strongly myself,&mdash;that is part of my duty as a man who seeks
+      worship and rightness to mark that difference in my own life quite
+      plainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard paused for a moment, and Helen said very earnestly, &ldquo;I wish
+      that you would tell me about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I consider it my duty,&rdquo; the other replied, &ldquo;to keep all the external
+      circumstances of my life as simple and as humble as I should have to if I
+      were quite poor. If I were not physically unable, I should feel that I
+      ought to do for my own self all that I needed to have done, for I think
+      that if it is necessary that others should be degraded to menial service
+      in order that my soul might be beautiful and true, then life is bad at the
+      heart of it, and I want none of its truth and beauty. I do not have to
+      look into my heart very long, Miss Davis, to discover that what I am
+      seeking in life is something that no millions of money can buy me; and
+      when I am face to face with the sternness of what I call that spiritual
+      fact, I see that fine houses and all the rest are a foolish kind of toy,
+      and wonder that any man should think that he can please me by giving the
+      labor of his soul to making them. It is much the same thing as I feel, for
+      instance, when I go to hear a master of music, and find that he has spent
+      his hours in torturing himself and his fingers in order to give me an
+      acrobatic exhibition, when all the time what I wish him to do, and what
+      his genius gave him power to do, was to find the magic word that should
+      set free the slumbering demon of my soul. So I think that a man who wishes
+      to grow by sympathy and worship should do without wealth, if only because
+      it is so trivial; but of course I have left unmentioned what is the great
+      reason for a self-denying life, the reason that lies at the heart of the
+      matter, and that includes all the others in it,&mdash;that he who lives by
+      prayer and joy makes all men richer, but he who takes more than his bare
+      necessity of the wealth of the body must know that he robs his brother
+      when he does it. The things of the soul are everywhere, but wealth stands
+      for the toil and suffering of human beings, and thousands must starve and
+      die so that one rich man may live at ease. That is no fine rhetoric that I
+      am indulging in, but a very deep and earnest conviction of my soul; first
+      of all facts of morality stands the law that the life of man is labor, and
+      that he who chooses to live otherwise is a dastard. He may chase the
+      phantom of happiness all his days and not find it, and yet never guess the
+      reason,&mdash;that joy is a melody of the heart, and that he is playing
+      upon an instrument that is out of tune. Few people choose to think of that
+      at all, but I cannot afford ever to forget it, for my task is to live the
+      artist's life, to dwell close to the heart of things; it is something that
+      I simply cannot understand how any man who pretends to do that can know of
+      the suffering and starving that is in the world, and can feel that he who
+      has God's temple of the soul for his dwelling, has right to more of the
+      pleasures of earth than the plainest food and shelter and what tools of
+      his art he requires. If it is otherwise it can only be because he is no
+      artist at all, no lover of life, but only a tradesman under another name,
+      using God's high gift to get for himself what he can, and thinking of his
+      sympathy and feeling as things that he puts on when he goes to work, and
+      when he is sure that they will cost him no trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard had been speaking very slowly, and in a deep and earnest voice;
+      he paused for a moment, and then added with a slight smile, &ldquo;I have been
+      answering your question without thinking about it, Miss Davis, for I have
+      told you all that there is to tell about my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen did not answer, but sat for a long time gazing at him and thinking
+      very deeply; then she said to him, her voice shaking slightly: &ldquo;You have
+      answered only half of my question, Mr. Howard; I want you to tell me what
+      a woman can do to bring those high things into her life&mdash;to keep her
+      soul humble and strong. I do not think that I have your courage and
+      self-reliance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man's voice dropped lower as he answered her, &ldquo;Suppose that you were
+      to find this friend of yours that knows you so well, and loves you so
+      truly; do you not think that there might be a chance for you to win this
+      prize of life that I speak of?&rdquo; Helen did not reply, but sat with her eyes
+      still fixed upon the other's countenance; as he went on, his deep, musical
+      voice held them there by a spell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;a man does not live very long in the kingdom of
+      the soul before there comes to be one thing that he loves more than
+      anything else that life can offer; that thing is love. For love is the
+      great gateway into the spiritual life, the stage of life's journey when
+      human beings are unselfish and true to their hearts, if ever the power of
+      unselfishness and truth lies in them. As for man, he has many battles to
+      fight and much of himself to kill before the great prizes of the soul can
+      be his&mdash;but the true woman has but one glory and one duty in life,
+      and sacredness and beauty are hers by the free gift of God. If she be a
+      true woman, when her one great passion takes its hold upon her it carries
+      all her being with it, and she gives herself and all that she has. Because
+      I believe in unselfishness and know that love is the essence of things, I
+      find in all the world nothing more beautiful than that, and think that she
+      has no other task in life, except to see that the self which she gives is
+      her best and Inghest, and to hold to the thought of the sacredness of what
+      she is doing. For love is the soul's great act of worship, and the heart's
+      great awakening to life. If the man be selfish and a seeker of pleasure,
+      what I say of love and woman is not for him; but if he be one who seeks to
+      worship, to rouse the soul within him to its vision of the beauty and
+      preciousness of life, then he must know that this is the great chance that
+      Nature gives him, that no effort of his own will ever carry him so far
+      towards what he seeks. The woman who gives herself to him he takes for his
+      own with awe and trembling, knowing that the glory which he reads in her
+      eyes is the very presence of the spirit of life; and because she stands
+      for this precious thing to him he seeks her love more than anything else
+      upon earth, feeling that if he has it he has everything, and if he has it
+      not, he has nothing. He cherishes the woman as before he cherished what
+      was best in his own soul; he chooses all fair and noble actions that may
+      bring him still more of her love; all else that life has for him he lays
+      as an offering at the shrine of her heart, all his joy and all his care,
+      and asks but love in return; and because the giving of love is the woman's
+      joy and the perfectness of her sacrifice, her glory, they come to forget
+      themselves in each other's being, and to live their lives in each other's
+      hearts. The joy that each cares for is no longer his own joy, but the
+      other's; and so they come to stand for the sacredness of God to each
+      other, and for perpetual inspiration. By and by, perhaps, from long
+      dwelling out of themselves and feeding their hearts upon things spiritual,
+      they learn the deep and mystic religion of love, that is the last lesson
+      life has to teach; it is given to no man to know what is the source of
+      this mysterious being of ours, but men who come near to it find it so
+      glorious that they die for it in joy; and the least glimpse of it gives a
+      man quite a new feeling about a human heart. So at last it happens that
+      the lovers read a fearful wonder in each other's eyes, and give each other
+      royal greeting, no longer for what they are, but for that which they would
+      like to be. They come to worship together as they could never have
+      worshiped apart; and always that which they worship and that in which they
+      dwell, is what all existence is seeking with so much pain, the sacred
+      presence of wonder that some call Truth, and some Beauty,&mdash;but all
+      Love. When you ask me how unselfishness is to be made yours in life, that
+      is the answer which I give you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard's voice had dropped very low; as he stopped Helen was trembling
+      within herself. She was drinking still more from the bottomless cup of her
+      humiliation and remorse, for she was still haunted by the specter of what
+      she had done. The man went on after an interval of silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think there is no one,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;whom these things touch more than the
+      man who would live the life of art that I have talked of before; for the
+      artist seeks experience above all things, seeks it not only for himself
+      but for his race. And it must come from his own heart; no one can drive
+      him to his task. All artists tell that the great source of their power is
+      love; and the wisest of them makes of his love an art-work, as he makes an
+      art-work of his life. He counts his power of loving most sacred of all his
+      powers, and guards it from harm as he guards his life itself; he gives all
+      his soul to the dreaming of that dream, and lays all his prayer before it;
+      and when he meets with the maiden who will honor such effort, he forgets
+      everything else in his life, and gives her all his heart, and studies to
+      'worship her by years of noble deeds.' For a woman who loves love, the
+      heart of such a man is a lifetime's treasure; for his passion is of the
+      soul, and does not die; and all that he has done has been really but a
+      training of himself for that great consecration. If he be a true artist,
+      all his days have been spent in learning to wrestle with himself, to rouse
+      himself and master his own heart; until at last his very being has become
+      a prayer, and his soul like a great storm of wind that sweeps everything
+      away in its arms. Perhaps that hunger has possessed him so that he never
+      even wakens in the dead of night without finding it with him in all its
+      strength; it rouses him in the morning with a song, and when midnight
+      comes and he is weary, it is a benediction and a hand upon his brow. All
+      the time, because he has a man's heart and knows of his life's great
+      glory, his longing turns to a dream of love, to a vision of the flying
+      perfect for which all his life is a search. There is a maiden who dwells
+      in all the music that he hears, and who calls to him in the sunrise, and
+      flings wide the flowers upon the meadows; she treads before him on the
+      moonlit waters and strews them with showers of fire. If his soul be only
+      strong enough, perhaps he waits long years for that perfect woman, that
+      woman who loves not herself, but loves love; and all the time the yearning
+      of his heart is growing, so that those who gaze at him wonder why his eyes
+      are dark and sunken. He knows that his heart is a treasure-house which he
+      himself cannot explore, and that in all the world he seeks nothing but
+      some woman before whom he might fling wide its doors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had been leaning on the table, holding her hands in front of her;
+      towards the end they were trembling so much that she took them away and
+      clasped them in her lap. When he ceased her eyes were lowered; she could
+      not see how his were fixed upon her, but she knew that her bosom was
+      heaving painfully, and that there were hot tears upon her cheeks. He added
+      slowly: &ldquo;I have told you all that I think about life, my dear friend, and
+      all that I think about love; so I think I have told you all that I know.&rdquo;
+       And Helen lifted her eyes to his and gazed at him through her tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You tell <i>me</i> of such things?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;You give such advice to
+      <i>me</i>!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, gently, &ldquo;why not to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Howard,&rdquo; Helen answered, &ldquo;do you not know what I have done, and how I
+      must feel while I listen to you? It is good that I should hear such
+      things, because I ought to suffer; but when I asked you for your advice I
+      wished for something hard and stern to do, before I dared ever think of
+      love, or feel myself right again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard sat watching her for a moment in silence, and then he answered
+      gently, &ldquo;I do not think, my dear friend, that it is our duty as struggling
+      mortals to feel ourselves right at all; I am not even sure that we ought
+      to care about our rightness in the least. For God has put high and
+      beautiful things in the world, things that call for all our attention; and
+      I am sure that we are never so close to rightness as when we give all our
+      devotion to them and cease quite utterly to think about ourselves. And
+      besides that, the love that I speak of is not easy to give, Miss Davis. It
+      is easy to give up one's self in the first glow of feeling; but to forget
+      one's self entirely, and one's comfort and happiness in all the little
+      things of life; to consecrate one's self and all that one has to a
+      lifetime of patience and self-abnegation; and to seek no reward and ask
+      for no happiness but love,&mdash;do you not think that such things would
+      cost one pain and bring a good conscience at last?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's voice was very low as she answered, &ldquo;Perhaps, at last.&rdquo; Then she
+      sat very still, and finally raised her deep, earnest eyes and leaned
+      forward and gazed straight into her companion's. &ldquo;Mr. Howard,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;you must know that YOU are my conscience; and it is the memory of your
+      words that causes me all my suffering. And now tell me one thing; suppose
+      I were to say to you that I could beg upon my knees for a chance to earn
+      such a life as that; and suppose I should ever come really to love
+      someone, and should give up everything to win such a treasure, do you
+      think that I could clear my soul from what I have done, and win rightness
+      for mine? Do you think that you&mdash;that YOU could ever forget that I
+      was the woman who had wished to sell her love for money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard answered softly, &ldquo;Yes, I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But are you sure of it?&rdquo; Helen asked; and when she had received the same
+      reply she drew a long breath, and a wonderful expression of relief came
+      upon her face; all her being seemed to rise,&mdash;as if all in an instant
+      she had flung away the burden of shame and fear that had been crushing her
+      soul. She sat gazing at the other with a strange look in her eyes, and
+      then she sank down and buried her head in her arms upon the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And fully a minute passed thus without a sound. Helen was just lifting her
+      head again, and Mr. Howard was about to speak, when an unexpected
+      interruption caused him to stop. The front door was opened, and as Helen
+      turned with a start the servant came and stood in the doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Elizabeth?&rdquo; Helen asked in a faint voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have just been to the post office,&rdquo; the woman answered; &ldquo;here is a
+      letter for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; Helen answered; &ldquo;give it to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she took it and put it on the table in front of her. Then she waited
+      until the servant was gone, and in the meantime, half mechanically, turned
+      her eyes upon the envelope. Suddenly the man saw her give a violent start
+      and turn very pale; she snatched up the letter and sprang to her feet, and
+      stood supporting herself by the chair, her hand shaking, and her breath
+      coming in gasps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; Mr. Howard cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen's voice was hoarse and choking as she answered him: &ldquo;It is from
+      Arthur!&rdquo; As he started and half rose from his chair the girl tore open the
+      letter and unfolded the contents, glancing at it once very swiftly, her
+      eyes flying from line to line; the next instant she let it fall to the
+      floor with a cry and clutched with her hands at her bosom. She tried to
+      speak, but she was choking with her emotion; only her companion saw that
+      her face was transfigured with delight; and then suddenly she sank down
+      upon the sofa beside her, her form shaken with hysterical laughter and
+      sobbing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard had risen from his chair in wonder; but before he could take a
+      step toward her he heard someone in the hall, and Mr. Davis rushed into
+      the room. &ldquo;Helen, Helen!&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;what is the matter?&rdquo; and sank
+      down upon his knees beside her; the girl raised her head and then flung
+      herself into his arms, exclaining incoherently: &ldquo;Oh, Daddy, I am free! Oh,
+      oh&mdash;can you believe it&mdash;I am free!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Long after her first ecstasy had passed Helen still lay with her head
+      buried in her father's bosom, trembling and weeping and repeating half as
+      if in a dream that last wonderful word, &ldquo;Free!&rdquo; Meanwhile Mr. Davis had
+      bent down and picked up the paper to glance over it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Most certainly Arthur would have wondered had he seen the effect of that
+      letter upon Helen; for he wrote to her with bitter scorn, and told her
+      that he had torn his love for her from his heart, and made himself master
+      of his own life again. He bid her go on in the course she had chosen, for
+      a day or two had been enough for him to find the end of her power over
+      him, and of his care for her; and he added that he wrote to her only that
+      she might not please herself with the thought of having wrecked him, and
+      that he was going far away to begin his life again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The words brought many emotions to Mr. Davis, and suggested many doubts;
+      but to Helen they brought but one thought. She still clung to her father,
+      sobbing like a child and muttering the one word &ldquo;Free!&rdquo; When at last the
+      fit had vented itself and she looked up again, she seemed to Mr. Howard
+      more like a girl than she ever had before; and she wiped away her tears
+      laughingly, and smoothed back her hair, and was wonderfully beautiful in
+      her emotion. She introduced Mr. Howard to her father, and begged him to
+      excuse her for her lack of self-control. &ldquo;I could not help it,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;for oh, I am so happy&mdash;so happy!&rdquo; And she leaned her head upon her
+      father's shoulder again and gazed up into his face. &ldquo;Daddy dear,&rdquo; she
+      said, &ldquo;and are you not happy too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; Mr Davis protested, &ldquo;of course I am glad to hear that Arthur is
+      himself again. But that is not finding him, and I fear&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, oh, please don't!&rdquo; Helen cried, the frightened look coming back upon
+      her face in a flash. &ldquo;Oh please do not tell me that&mdash;no, no! Do let
+      me be happy just a little while&mdash;think of it, how wretched I have
+      been! And now to know he is safe! Oh, please, Daddy!&rdquo; And the tears had
+      welled up in Helen's eyes again. She turned quickly to Mr. Howard, her
+      voice trembling. &ldquo;Tell me that I may be happy,&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;You know
+      all about it, Mr. Howard. Is it not right that I should be happy just a
+      little?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As her friend answered her gently that he thought it was, she sat looking
+      at him for a moment, and then the cloud passed over. She brushed away her
+      tears, and put her arms about her father again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot help it,&rdquo; she went on, quickly, &ldquo;I must be happy whether I want
+      to or not! You must not mind anything I do! For oh, think what it means to
+      have been so wretched, so crushed and so frightened! I thought that all my
+      life was to be like that, that I could never sing again, because Arthur
+      was ruined. Nobody will ever know how I felt,&mdash;how many tears I shed;
+      and now think what it means to be free&mdash;to be free,&mdash;oh, free!
+      And to be able to be good once more! I should go mad if I thought about
+      it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had risen as she spoke, and she spread out her arms and flung back
+      her head and drank in a deep breath of joy. She began singing, half to
+      herself; and then as that brought a sudden idea into her mind she ran to
+      the window and shut it quickly. &ldquo;I will sing you my hymn!&rdquo; she laughed, &ldquo;<i>that</i>
+      is the way to be happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And she went to the piano; in a minute more she had begun the chorus she
+      had sung to Arthur, &ldquo;Hail thee Joy, from Heaven descending!&rdquo; The flood of
+      emotion that was pent up within her poured itself out in the wild torrent
+      of music, and Helen seemed happy enough to make up for all the weeks of
+      suffering. As she swept herself on she proved what she had said,&mdash;that
+      she would go mad if she thought much about her release; and Mr. Howard and
+      her father sat gazing at her in wonder. When she stopped she was quite
+      exhausted and quite dazed, and came and buried her head in her father's
+      arms, and sat waiting until the heaving of her bosom had subsided, and she
+      was calm once more,&mdash;in the meantime murmuring faintly to herself
+      again and again that she was happy and that she was free.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she looked up and brushed away her tangled hair again, perhaps she
+      thought that her conduct was not very conventional, for she begged Mr.
+      Howard's pardon once more, promising to be more orderly by and by. Then
+      she added, laughing, &ldquo;It is good that you should see me happy, though,
+      because I have always troubled you with my egotisms before.&rdquo; She went on
+      talking merrily, until suddenly she sprang up and said, &ldquo;I shall have to
+      sing again if I do not run away, so I am going upstairs to make myself
+      look respectable!&rdquo; And with that she danced out of the room, waking the
+      echoes of the house with her caroling:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
+  Under the blossom that hangs on the bough!&rdquo;
+
+  Lus-tig im Leid, sing'ich von Lieb-e!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XIII
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Some one whom I can court
+    With no great change of manner,
+  Still holding reason's fort,
+    Tho waving fancy's banner.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Several weeks had passed since Helen had received the letter from Arthur,
+      the girl having in the meantime settled quietly down at Oakdale She had
+      seen few of her friends excepting Mr. Howard, who had come out often from
+      the city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was expecting a visit from him one bright afternoon, and was standing
+      by one of the pillars of the vine-covered porch, gazing up at the blue sky
+      above her and waiting to hear the whistle of the train. When she saw her
+      friend from the distance she waved her hand to him and went to meet him,
+      laughing, &ldquo;I am going to take you out to see my stream and my bobolink
+      to-day. You have not seen our country yet, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl seemed to Mr. Howard more beautiful that afternoon than he had
+      ever known her before, for she was dressed all in white and there was the
+      old spring in her step, and the old joy in her heart. When they had passed
+      out of the village, she found the sky so very blue, and the clouds so very
+      white, and the woods and meadows so very green, that she was radiantly
+      happy and feared that she would have to sing. And she laughed:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Away, away from men and towns,
+  To the wild wood and the downs!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And then interrupted herself to say, &ldquo;You must not care, Mr. Howard, if I
+      chatter away and do all the talking. It has been a long time since I have
+      paid a visit to my friends out here, and they will all be here to welcome
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Even as Helen spoke she looked up, and there was the bobolink flying over
+      her head and pouring out his song; also the merry breeze was dancing over
+      the meadows, and everything about her was in motion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; she told her companion, &ldquo;I think most of the happiness of
+      my life has been out in these fields; I don't know what made me so fond of
+      the country, but even when I was a very little thing, whenever I learned a
+      new song I would come out here and sing it. Those were times when I had
+      nothing to do but be happy, you know, and I never thought about anything
+      else. It has always been so easy for me to be happy, I don't know why.
+      There is a fountain of joy in my heart that wells up whether I want it to
+      or not, so that I can always be as merry as I choose. I am afraid that is
+      very selfish, isn't it, Mr. Howard? I am trying to be right now, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may consider you are being merry for my sake at present,&rdquo; said the
+      man with a laugh. &ldquo;It is not always so easy for me to be joyful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then,&rdquo; smiled Helen; &ldquo;I only wish that you had brought your
+      violin along. For you see I always think of these things of Nature with
+      music; when I was little they were all creatures that danced with me.
+      These winds that are so lively were funny little fairy-men, and you could
+      see all the flowers shake as they swept over them; whenever I heard any
+      music that was quick and bright I always used to fancy that some of them
+      had hold of my hands and were teaching me to run. I never thought about
+      asking why, but I used to find that very exciting. And then there was my
+      streamlet&mdash;he's just ahead here past the bushes&mdash;and I used to
+      like him best of all. For he was a very beautiful youth, with a crown of
+      flowers upon his head; there was a wonderful light in his eyes, and his
+      voice was very strong and clear, and his step very swift, so it was quite
+      wonderful when you danced with him. For he was the lord of all the rest,
+      and everything around you got into motion then; there was never any
+      stopping, for you know the streamlet always goes faster and faster, and
+      gets more and more joyous, until you cannot bear it any more and have to
+      give up. We shall have to play the Kreutzer Sonata some time, Mr. Howard.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking of that,&rdquo; said the other, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it would be interesting to know what people imagine when they
+      listen to music,&rdquo; went on Helen. &ldquo;I have all sorts of queer fancies for
+      myself; whenever it gets too exciting there is always one last resource,
+      you can fly away to the top of the nearest mountain. I don't know just why
+      that is, but perhaps it's because you can see so much from there, or
+      because there are so many winds; anyway, there is a dance&mdash;a
+      wonderfully thrilling thing, if only the composer knows how to manage it.
+      There is someone who dances with me&mdash;I never saw his face, but he's
+      always there; and everything around you is flying fast, and there comes
+      surge after surge of the music and sweeps you on,&mdash;perhaps some of
+      those wild runs on the violins that are just as if the wind took you up in
+      its arms and whirled you away in the air! That is a most tremendous
+      experience when it happens, because then you go quite beside yourself and
+      you see that all the world is alive and full of power; the great things of
+      the forest begin to stir too, the trees and the strange shapes in the
+      clouds, and all the world is suddenly gone mad with motion; and so by the
+      time you come to the last chords your hands are clenched and you can
+      hardly breathe, and you feel that all your soul is throbbing!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was getting quite excited then, just over her own enthusiasm;
+      perhaps it was because the wind was blowing about her. &ldquo;Is that the way
+      music does with you?&rdquo; she laughed, as she stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sometimes,&rdquo; said Mr. Howard, smiling in turn; &ldquo;but then again while all
+      my soul is throbbing I feel my neighbor reaching to put on her wraps, and
+      that brings me down from the mountains so quickly that it is painful;
+      afterwards you go outside among the cabs and cable-cars, and make sad
+      discoveries about life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a pessimist,&rdquo; said the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Possibly,&rdquo; responded the other, &ldquo;but try to keep your fountain of joy a
+      while, Miss Davis. There are disagreeable things in life to be done, and
+      some suffering to be borne, and sometimes the fountain dries up very
+      quickly indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was much more ready to look serious than she would have been a month
+      before; she asked in a different tone, &ldquo;You think that must always
+      happen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not quite always,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;there are a few who manage to keep it,
+      but it means a great deal of effort. Perhaps you never took your own
+      happiness so seriously,&rdquo; he added with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;I never made much effort that I know of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some day perhaps you will have to,&rdquo; replied the other, &ldquo;and then you will
+      think of the creatures of nature as I do, not simply as rejoicing, but as
+      fighting the same battle and daring the same pain as you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl thought for a moment, and then asked: &ldquo;Do you really believe that
+      as a fact?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe something,&rdquo; was the answer, &ldquo;that makes me think when I go
+      among men and see their dullness, that Nature is flinging wide her glory
+      in helpless appeal to them; and that it is a dreadful accident that they
+      have no eyes and she no voice.&rdquo; He paused for a moment and then added,
+      smiling, &ldquo;It would take metaphysics to explain that; and meanwhile we were
+      talking about your precious fountain of joy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think,&rdquo; answered Helen, thoughtfully, &ldquo;that it would be much
+      better to earn one's happiness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps after you had tried it a while you would not think so,&rdquo; replied
+      her companion; &ldquo;that is the artist's life, you know, and in practice it is
+      generally a very dreadful life. Real effort is very hard to make; and
+      there is always a new possibility to lure the artist, so that his life is
+      always restless and a cruel defeat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is such a life that you have lived, Mr. Howard?&rdquo; asked Helen, gazing
+      at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are compensations,&rdquo; he replied, smiling slightly, &ldquo;or there would
+      be no artists. There comes to each one who persists some hour of victory,
+      some hour when he catches the tide of his being at the flood, and when he
+      finds himself master of all that his soul contains, and takes a kind of
+      fierce delight in sweeping himself on and in breaking through everything
+      that stands in his way. You made me think of such things by what you said
+      of your joy in music; only perhaps the artist discovers that not only the
+      streamlets and the winds have motion and meaning, but that the planets
+      also have a word for his soul; and his own being comes suddenly to seem to
+      him a power which it frightens him to know of, and he sees the genius of
+      life as a spirit with eyes of flame. It lifts him from his feet and drags
+      him away, and the task of his soul takes the form of something that he
+      could cry out to escape. He has fought his way into the depths of being at
+      last, and lie stands alone in all his littleness on the shore of an ocean
+      whose waves are centuries&mdash;and then even while he is wondering and
+      full of fear, his power begins to die within him and to go he knows not
+      how; and when he looks at himself again he is like a man who has had a
+      dream, and wakened with only the trembling left; except that he knows it
+      was no dream but a fiery reality, and that the memory of it will cast a
+      shadow over all the rest of his days and make them seem trivial and
+      meaningless. No one knows how many years he may spend in seeking and never
+      find that lost glory again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard had been speaking very intensely, and when he stopped Helen did
+      not reply at once, but continued gazing at him. &ldquo;What is the use of such
+      moments,&rdquo; she asked at last, &ldquo;if they only make one wretched?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least one may keep the memory,&rdquo; he replied with a smile, &ldquo;and that
+      gives him a standard of reality. He learns to be humble, and learns how to
+      judge men and men's glory, and the wonderful things of men's world,&mdash;so
+      that while they are the most self-occupied and self-delighted creatures
+      living he may see them as dumb cattle that are grazing while the sunrise
+      is firing the hilltops.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have had such moments yourself?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A long time ago,&rdquo; said the other, smiling at the seriousness with which
+      she spoke. &ldquo;When you were telling me about your musical fancies you made
+      me remember how once when I was young I climbed a high hill and had an
+      adventure with a wind that was very swift and eager. At first I recollect
+      I tried not to heed it, because I had been dull and idle and unhappy; but
+      I found that I could not be very long in the presence of so much life
+      without being made ashamed, and that brave windstorm put me through a
+      course of repentance of the very sternest kind before it let me go. I
+      tried just to promise that I would be more wide-awake and more true, but
+      it paid not the least attention to that; and it would hear no arguments as
+      to the consequences,&mdash;it came again and again with a furious burst,
+      and swept me away every time I tried to think; it declared that I had been
+      putting off the task of living my life long enough, and that I was to
+      attend to it then and there. And when I gave myself up as demanded, it had
+      not the least mercy upon me, and each time that I protested that I was at
+      the end of my power it simply whirled me away again like a mad thing. When
+      at last I came down from the hillside I had quite a new idea of what
+      living meant, and I have been more respectful before the winds and other
+      people of genius ever since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen felt very much at home in that merry phantasy of her companion's,
+      but she did not say anything; after a moment's waiting the other went on
+      to tell her of something else that pleased her no less. &ldquo;I remember,&rdquo; he
+      said, &ldquo;how as I came down I chanced upon a very wonderful sight, one which
+      made an impression upon me that I have not forgotten. It was a thicket of
+      wild roses; and I have always dreamed that the wild rose was a creature of
+      the wind and fire, but I never knew so much about it before. After that
+      day I have come seriously to believe it would be best if we prudent and
+      timid creatures, who neither dare nor care anything for the sake of
+      beauty,&mdash;if we simply did not ever see the wild rose. For it lives
+      only for a day or two, Miss Davis, and yet, as I discovered then, we may
+      live all our years and never get one such burst of glory, one such instant
+      of exultation and faith as that. And also I seriously think that among men
+      and all the wonderful works of men there is nothing so beautiful and so
+      precious as that little flower that none of them heeds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard glanced at the girl suddenly; she had half stopped in her walk,
+      and she was gazing at him with a very eager look in her bright eyes. &ldquo;What
+      is it?&rdquo; he asked her, and Helen exclaimed, &ldquo;Oh, I am so glad you mentioned
+      it! I had forgotten&mdash;actually forgotten!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As her friend looked puzzled, the girl went on with her merriest laugh, &ldquo;I
+      must tell you all about it, and we shall be happy once more; for you turn
+      down this path towards the woods, and then you must go very quietly and
+      hold your breath, and prepare yourself just as if you were going into a
+      great cathedral; for you want all your heart to be full of expectation and
+      joy! It is for only about one week in the year that you may see this great
+      sight, and the excitement of the first rapture is best of all. It would be
+      so dreadful if you were not reverent; you must fancy that you are coming
+      to hear a wonderful musician, and you know that he'll play for you, but
+      you don't know just when. That's what I used to pretend, and I used to
+      come every day for a week or two, and very early in the morning, when the
+      dew was still everywhere and the winds were still gay. Several times you
+      go back home disappointed, but that only makes you more eager for the next
+      time; and when you do find them it is wonderful&mdash;oh, most wonderful!
+      For there is a whole hedge of them along the edge of the wood; and you may
+      be just as madly happy as you choose and never be half happy enough,
+      because they are so beautiful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are wild roses?&rdquo; asked the other, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen, &ldquo;and oh, think how many days I have forgotten them, and
+      they may have bloomed! And for three years I have not been here, and I was
+      thinking about it all the way over on the steamer.&rdquo; They had come to the
+      path that turned off to the woods, and Helen led her companion down it,
+      still prattling away in the meantime; when they came to the edge of the
+      woods she began walking upon tip toe, and put her fingers upon her lips in
+      fun. Then suddenly she gave a cry of delight, for there were the roses for
+      a fact, a whole hedge of them as she had said, glowing in the bright sun
+      and making a wonderful vision.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two stopped and stood gazing at them, the girl's whole soul dancing
+      within her. &ldquo;Oh do you know,&rdquo; she cried suddenly, &ldquo;I think that I could
+      get drunk with just looking at roses! There is a strange kind of
+      excitement that comes over one, from drinking in the sight of their rich
+      red, and their gracefulness and perfume; it makes all my blood begin to
+      flow faster, and I quite forget everything else.&rdquo; Helen stood for a few
+      moments longer with her countenance of joy; afterwards she went towards
+      the flowers and knelt down in front of them, choosing a bud that was very
+      perfect. &ldquo;I always allow myself just one,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;just one for love,&rdquo;
+       and then she bent over it, whispering softly:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Hush, 'tis the lullaby time is singing,
+  Hush and heed not, for all things pass.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      She plucked it and held it up before her, while the wind came up behind
+      her and tossed it about, and tossed her skirts; Helen, radiant with
+      laughter, glanced at her companion, saying gaily, &ldquo;You must hold it very
+      lightly, just like this, you know, with one finger and a thumb; and then
+      you may toss it before you and lose yourself in its perfectness, until it
+      makes all your soul feel gracious. Do you know, Mr. Howard, I think one
+      could not live with the roses very long without becoming beautiful?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was what Plato thought,&rdquo; said the other with a smile, &ldquo;and many
+      other wise people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only wish that they might bloom forever,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;I should try
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her companion had been lost in watching her, and now as she paused he
+      said: &ldquo;Sometimes, I have been happy with the roses, too, Miss Davis. Here
+      is some music for your flower.&rdquo; She gazed at him eagerly, and he recited,
+      half laughingly:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Wild rose, wild rose, sing me thy song,
+    Come, let us sing it together!&mdash;
+  I hear the silver streamlet call
+    From his home in the dewy heather.&rdquo;
+
+  &ldquo;Let us sing the wild dance with the mountain breeze,
+    The rush of the mountain rain,
+  And the passionate clasp of the glowing sun
+    When the clouds are rent again.&rdquo;
+
+  &ldquo;They tell us the time for the song is short,
+    That the wings of joy are fleet;
+  But the soul of the rose has bid me sing
+    That oh, while it lasts 'tis sweet!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Afterwards Helen stood for a moment in silence; then a happy idea came to
+      her mind, and she turned towards the hedge of roses once more and threw
+      back her head upon the wind and took a deep breath and began singing a
+      very beautiful melody.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As it swelled out Helen's joy increased until her face was alight with
+      laughter, and very wonderful to see; she stood with the rose tossing in
+      one of her hands, and with the other pressed upon her bosom,&mdash;&ldquo;singing
+      of summer in full-throated ease.&rdquo; One might have been sure that the roses
+      knew what she was saying, and that all about her loved her for her song.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet the girl had just heard that the wings of joy are fleet; and she was
+      destined to find even then that it was true. For when she stopped she
+      turned to her companion with a happy smile and said, &ldquo;Do you know what
+      that is that I was singing?&rdquo; When he said &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;It is some
+      wild-rose music that somebody made for me, I think. It is in the same book
+      as the 'Water Lily' that I played you.&rdquo; And then in a flash the fearful
+      memory of that evening came over the girl, and made her start back; for a
+      moment she stood gazing at her friend, breathing very hard, and then she
+      lowered her eyes and whispered faintly to herself, &ldquo;And it was not a month
+      ago!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence after that, and when Helen looked up again the
+      joy was gone out of her face, and she was the same frightened soul as
+      before. Her lips were trembling a little as she said, &ldquo;Mr. Howard, I feel
+      somehow that I have no right to be quite happy, for I have done nothing to
+      make myself good.&rdquo; Then, thinking of her friend, she added, &ldquo;I am spoiling
+      your joy in the roses! Can you forgive me for that?&rdquo; As he answered that
+      he could, Helen turned away and said, &ldquo;Let us go into the woods, because I
+      do not like to see them any more just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed beneath the deep shadows of the trees, and Helen led Mr.
+      Howard to the spring where she had been with Arthur. She sat down upon the
+      seat, and then there was a long silence, the girl gazing steadfastly in
+      front of her; she was thinking of the last time she had been there, and
+      how it was likely that the pale, wan look must still be upon Arthur's
+      face. Mr. Howard perhaps divined her thought, for he watched her for a
+      long time without speaking a word, and then at last he said gently, as if
+      to divert her attention, &ldquo;Miss Davis, I think that you are not the first
+      one whom the sight of the wild rose has made unhappy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen turned and looked at him, and he gazed gravely into her eyes. For at
+      least a minute he said nothing; when he went on his voice was much
+      changed, and Helen knew not what to expect &ldquo;Miss Davis,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;God has
+      given to the wild rose a very wonderful power of beauty and joy; and
+      perhaps the man who looks at it has been dreaming all his life that
+      somewhere he too might find such precious things and have them for his
+      own. When he sees the flower there comes to him the fearful realization
+      that with all the effort of his soul he has never won the glory which the
+      wild rose wears by Heaven's free gift; and that perhaps in his loneliness
+      and weakness he has even forgotten all about such high perfection. So
+      there rises within him a yearning of all his being to forget his misery
+      and his struggling, and to lay all his worship and all his care before the
+      flower that is so sweet; he is afraid of his own sin and his own baseness,
+      and now suddenly he finds a way of escape,&mdash;that he will live no
+      longer for himself and his own happiness, but that his joy shall be the
+      rose's joy, and all his life the rose's life. Do you think, my dear
+      friend, that that might please the flower?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Helen wonderingly, &ldquo;it would be beautiful, if one could do
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other spoke more gently still as he answered her, his voice trembling
+      slightly: &ldquo;And do you not know, Miss Davis, that God has made <i>you</i> a
+      rose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl started visibly; she whispered, &ldquo;You say that to me, Mr. Howard?
+      Why do you say that to <i>me</i>?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he fixed his dark eyes upon her, his voice very low as he responded:
+      &ldquo;I say it to you,&mdash;because I love you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen shrank back and stared at him; and then as she saw his look her
+      own dropped lower and lower and the color mounted to her face. Mr. Howard
+      paused for a moment or two and then very gently took one of her hands in
+      his, and went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said,&mdash;&ldquo;you must let me call you Helen&mdash;listen to me
+      a while, for I have something to tell you. And since we both of us love
+      the roses so much, perhaps it will be beautiful to speak of them still. I
+      want to tell you how the man who loves the flower needs not to love it for
+      his own sake, but may love it for the flower's; how one who really
+      worships beauty, worships that which is not himself, and the more he
+      worships it the less he thinks of himself. And Helen, you can never know
+      how hard a struggle my life has been, just to keep before me something to
+      love,&mdash;how lonely a struggle it has been, and how sad. I can only
+      tell you that there was very little strength left, and very little beauty,
+      and that it was all I could do to remember there was such a thing as joy
+      in the world, and that I had once possessed it. The music that moved me
+      and the music that I made was never your wild-rose singing, but such
+      yearning, restless music as you heard in the garden. I cannot tell you how
+      much I have loved that little piece that I played then; perhaps it is my
+      own sad heart that finds such breathing passion in it, but I have sent it
+      out into the darkness of many a night, dreaming that somewhere it might
+      waken an echo. For as long as the heart beats it never ceases to hunger
+      and to hope, and I felt that somewhere in the world there must be left
+      some living creature that was beautiful and pure, and that might be loved.
+      So it was that when I saw you all my soul was roused within me; you were
+      the fairest of all God's creatures that I had ever seen. That was why I
+      was so bitter at first, and that was why all my heart went out to you when
+      I saw your suffering, and why it is to me the dearest memory of my
+      lifetime that I was able to help you. Afterwards when I saw how true you
+      were, I was happier than I had ever dared hope to be again; for when I
+      went back to my lonely little home, it was no longer to think about myself
+      and my sorrow and my dullness, but to think about you,&mdash;to rejoice in
+      your salvation, and to pray for you in your trouble, and to wait for the
+      day when I might see you again. And so I knew that something had happened
+      to me for which I had yearned, oh so long and so painfully!&mdash;that my
+      heart had been taken from me, and that I was living in another life; I
+      knew, dear Helen, that I loved you. I said to myself long ago, before you
+      got Arthur's letter, that I would wait for the chance to say this to you,
+      to take your hand in mine and say: Sweet girl, the law of my life has been
+      that all my soul I must give to the best thing that ever I know; and that
+      thing is you. You must know that I love you, and how I love you; that I
+      lay myself at your feet and ask to help you and watch over you and
+      strengthen you all that I may. For your life is young and there is much to
+      be hoped for in it, and to my own poor self there is no longer any duty
+      that I owe. My heart is yours, and I ask for nothing but that I may love
+      you. Those were the words that I first meant to say to you, Helen; and to
+      ask you if it pleased you that I should speak to you thus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Howard stopped, and after he had waited a minute, the girl raised her
+      eyes to his face. She did not answer him, but she put out her other hand
+      and laid it very gently in his own.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence before the man continued; at last he said, &ldquo;Dear
+      Helen, that was what I wished to say to you, and no more than that,
+      because I believed that I was old, and that my heart was dying within me.
+      But oh, when that letter came from Arthur, it was as if I heard the voice
+      of my soul crying out to me that my life had just begun, that I had still
+      to love. As I came out here into the forest with you to-day, my soul was
+      full of a wondrous thought, a thought that brought more awe and rapture
+      than words have power to tell; it was that this precious maiden was not
+      made to be happy alone, but that some day she and all her being would go
+      out to someone, to someone who could win her heart, who could love her and
+      worship her as she deserved. And my soul cried out to me that <i>I</i>
+      could worship you; the thought wakened in me a wilder music than ever I
+      had heard in my life before. Here as I kneel before you and hold your
+      hands in mine, dear Helen, all my being cries out to you to come to me;
+      for in your sorrow your heart has been laid bare to my sight, and I have
+      seen only sweetness and truth. To keep it, and serve it, and feed it upon
+      thoughts of beauty, would be all that I could care for in life; and the
+      thought of winning you for mine, so that all your life I might cherish
+      you, is to me a joy which brings tears into my eyes. Oh, dearest girl, I
+      must live before you with that prayer, and tell me what you will, I must
+      still pray it. Nor do I care how long you ask me to wait; my life has now
+      but one desire, to love you in such a way as best may please you, to love
+      you as much as you will let me. Helen, I have told all myself to you, and
+      here as we gaze into each other's eyes our souls are bare to each other.
+      As I say those words they bring to me a thought that sweeps away all my
+      being,&mdash;that perhaps the great sorrow you have known has chastened
+      your heart so that you too wish to forget yourself, and worship at the
+      shrine of love; I see you trembling, and I think that perhaps it may be
+      that, and that it needs only a word of mine to bring your soul to me! What
+      that thought is I cannot tell you; but oh, it has been the dream of my
+      life, it has been the thing for which I have lived, and for which I was
+      dying. If I could win you for mine, Helen, for mine&mdash;and take you
+      away with me, away from all else but love! The thought of it chokes me,
+      and fills me with mighty anguish of yearning; and my soul burns for you,
+      and I stretch out my arms to you; and I cry out to you that the happiness
+      of my life is in your hands&mdash;that I love you&mdash;oh, that I love
+      you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the man had been speaking he had sunk down before Helen, still clasping
+      her hands in his own. A great trembling had seized upon the girl and her
+      bosom was rising and falling swiftly; but she mastered herself with a
+      desperate effort and looked up, staring at him. &ldquo;You tell me that you love
+      me,&rdquo; she gasped, &ldquo;you tell me that I am perfect! And yet you know what I
+      have done&mdash;you have seen all my wrongness!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her voice broke, and she could not speak a word more; she bowed her head
+      and the trembling came again, while the other clasped her hands more
+      tightly and bent towards her. &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I call you to a sacred
+      life that forgets all things but love. Precious girl, my soul cries out to
+      me that I have a right to you, that you were made that I might kneel
+      before you; it cries out to me, 'Speak the word and claim her, claim her
+      for your own, for no man could love her more than you love her. Tell her
+      that all your life you have waited for this sacred hour to come; tell her
+      that you have power and life, and that all your soul is hers!' And oh,
+      dear heart, if only you could tell me that you might love me, that years
+      of waiting might win you, it would be such happiness as I have never dared
+      to dream. Tell me, Helen, tell me if it be true!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the girl lifted her face to him, and he saw that all her soul had
+      leaped into her eyes. Her bosom heaved, and she flung back her head and
+      stretched wide her arms, and cried aloud, &ldquo;Oh, David, I do love you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He clasped her in his arms and pressed her upon his bosom in an ecstasy of
+      joy, and kissed the lips that had spoken the wonderful words. &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo;
+       he exclaimed, &ldquo;you will be mine?&rdquo; And she answered him, &ldquo;Yours!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For that there was no answer but the clasp of his love. At last he
+      whispered, &ldquo;Oh, Helen, a lifetime of worship can never repay you for words
+      like those. My life, my soul, tell me once more, for you cannot be mine
+      too utterly; tell me once more that you are mine!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And suddenly she leaned back her head and looked into his burning eyes,
+      and began swiftly, her voice choking: &ldquo;Oh, listen, listen to me!&mdash;if
+      it be a pleasure to you to know how you have this heart. I tell you,
+      wonderful man that God has given me for mine, that I loved you the first
+      word that I heard you speak in the garden. You were all that I knew of in
+      life to yearn for&mdash;you were a wonderful light that had flashed upon
+      me and blinded me; and when I saw my own vileness in it I flung myself
+      down on my face, and felt a more fearful despair than I had ever dreamed
+      could torture a soul. I would have crawled to you upon my knees and
+      groveled in the dirt and begged you to have mercy upon me; and afterwards
+      when you lifted me up, I could have kissed the ground that you trod. But
+      oh, I knew one thing, and it was all that gave me courage ever to look
+      upon you; I heard the sacred voice of my womanhood within me, telling me
+      that I was not utterly vile, because it was in my ignorance that I had
+      done my sin; and that if ever I had known what love really was, I should
+      have laughed at the wealth of empires. To win your heart I would fling
+      away all that I ever cared for in life&mdash;my beauty, my health, my
+      happiness&mdash;yes, I would fling away my soul! And when you talked to me
+      of love and told me that its sacrifice was hard, I&mdash;I, little girl
+      that I am&mdash;could have told you that you were talking as a child; and
+      I thought, 'Oh, if only this man, instead of urging me to love another and
+      win my peace, if only <i>he</i> were not afraid to trust me, if only he
+      were willing that I should love <i>him!</i>' And this afternoon when I set
+      out with you, do you know what was the real thing that lay at the bottom
+      of my heart and made me so happy? I said to myself, 'It may take months,
+      and it may take years, but there is a crown in life that I may win&mdash;that
+      I may win forever! And this man shall tell me my duty, and night and day I
+      shall watch and pray to do it, and do more; and he will not know why I do
+      it, but it shall be for nothing but the love of him; and some day the
+      worship that is in his heart shall come to me, tho it find me upon my
+      death-bed.' And now you take me and tell me that I have only to love you;
+      and you frighten me, and I cannot believe that it is true! But oh, you are
+      pilot and master, and you know, and I will believe you&mdash;only tell me
+      this wonderful thing again that I may be sure&mdash;that in spite of all
+      my weakness and my helplessness and my failures, you love me&mdash;and you
+      trust me&mdash;and you ask for me. If that is really the truth, David,&mdash;tell
+      me if that is really the truth!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David whispered to her, &ldquo;Yes, yes; that is the truth;&rdquo; and the girl went
+      on swiftly, half sobbing with her emotion:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you tell me that, what more do I need to know? You are my life and my
+      soul, and you call me. For the glory of your wonderful love I will leave
+      all the rest of the world behind me, and you may take me where you will
+      and when you will, and do with me what you please. And oh, you who
+      frightened me so about my wrongness and told me how hard it was to be
+      right&mdash;do you know how easy it is for me to say those words? And do
+      you know how happy I am&mdash;because I love you and you are mine? David&mdash;my
+      David&mdash;my heart has been so full,&mdash;so wild and thirsty,&mdash;that
+      now when you tell me that you want all my love, it is a word of glory to
+      me, it tells me to be happy as never in my life have I been happy before!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And David bent towards her and kissed her upon her beautiful lips and upon
+      her forehead; and he pressed the trembling form closer upon him, so that
+      the heaving of her bosom answered to his own. &ldquo;Listen, my love, my
+      precious heart,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;I will tell you about the vision of my
+      life, now when you and I are thus heart to heart. Helen, my soul cries out
+      that this union must be perfect, in mind and soul and body a blending of
+      all ourselves; so that we may live in each other's hearts, and seek each
+      other's perfection; so that we may have nothing one from the other, but be
+      one and the same soul in the glory of our love. That is such a sacred
+      thought, my life, my darling; it makes all my being a song! And as I clasp
+      you to me thus, and kiss you, I feel that I have never been so near to
+      God. I have worshiped all my days in the great religion of love, and now
+      as the glory of it burns in my heart I feel lifted above even us, and see
+      that it is because of Him that we love each other so; because He is one,
+      our souls may be one, actually and really one, so that each loses himself
+      and lives the other's life. I know that I love you so that I can fling my
+      whole self away, and give up every thought in life but you. As I tell you
+      that, my heart is bursting; oh! drink in this passion of mine, and tell me
+      once more that you love me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had still been leaning back her head and gazing into his eyes, all
+      her soul uplifted in the glory of her emotion; there was a wild look upon
+      her face,&mdash;and her breath was coming swiftly. For a moment more she
+      gazed at him, and then she buried her face on his shoulder, crying, &ldquo;Mine&mdash;mine!&rdquo;
+       For a long time she clung to him, breathing the word and quite lost in the
+      joy of it; until at last she leaned back her head and gazed up into his
+      eyes once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, David,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;what can I answer you? I can only tell you one
+      thing, that here I am in your arms, and that I am yours&mdash;yours! And I
+      love you, oh, before God I love you with all my soul! And I am so happy&mdash;oh,
+      David, so happy! Dearest heart, can you not see how you have won me, so
+      that I cannot live without you, so that anything you ask of me you may
+      have? I cannot tell you any more, because I am trembling so, and I am so
+      weak; for this has been more than I can bear, it is as if all my being
+      were melting within me. But oh, I never thought that a human being could
+      be so happy, or that to love could be such a world of wonder and joy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen, as she had been speaking, had sunk down exhaustedly, letting her
+      head fall forward upon her bosom; she lay quite limp in David's arms,
+      while little by little the agitation that had so shaken her subsided. In
+      the meantime he was bending over the golden hair that was so wild and so
+      beautiful, and there were tears in his eyes. When at last the girl was
+      quiet she leaned back her head upon his arm and looked up into his face,
+      and he bent over her and pressed a kiss upon her mouth. Helen gazed into
+      his eyes and asked him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, do you really know what you have done to this little maiden, how
+      fearfully and how madly you have made her yours? I never dreamed of what
+      it could mean to love before; when men talked to me of it I laughed at
+      them, and the touch of their hands made me shrink. And now here I am, and
+      everything about me is changed. Take me away with you, David, and keep me&mdash;I
+      do not care what becomes of me, if only you let me have your heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl closed her eyes and lay still again for a long time; when she
+      began to speak once more it was softly, and very slowly, and half as if in
+      a dream: &ldquo;David,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;<i>my</i> David, I am tired; I think I
+      never felt so helpless. But oh, dear heart, it seems a kind of music in my
+      soul,&mdash;that I have cast all my sorrow away, and that I may be happy
+      again, and be at peace&mdash;at peace!&rdquo; And the girl repeated the words to
+      herself more and more gently, until her voice had died away altogether;
+      the other was silent for a long time, gazing down upon the perfect face,
+      and then at last he kissed the trembling eyelids till they opened once
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sweet girl,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;as God gives me life you shall never be sorry
+      for that beautiful faith, or sorry that you have laid bare your heart to
+      me.&rdquo; Long afterwards, having watched her without speaking, he went on with
+      a smile, &ldquo;I wonder if you would not be happier yet, dearest, if I should
+      tell you all the beautiful things that I mean to do with you. For now that
+      you are all mine, I am going to carry you far away; you will like that,
+      will you not, precious one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw a little of an old light come back into Helen's eyes as he asked
+      that question. &ldquo;What difference does it make?&rdquo; she asked, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David laughed and went on: &ldquo;Very well then, you shall have nothing to do
+      with it. I shall take you in my arms just as you are. And I have a
+      beautiful little house, a very little house among the wildest of
+      mountains, and there we shall live this wonderful summer, all alone with
+      our wonderful love. And there we shall have nature to worship, and
+      beautiful music, and beautiful books to read. You shall never have
+      anything more to think about all your life but making yourself perfect and
+      beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl had raised herself up and was gazing at him with interest as he
+      spoke thus. But he saw a swift frown cross her features at his last words,
+      and he stopped and asked her what was the matter. Helen's reply was
+      delivered very gravely. &ldquo;What I was to think about,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;was
+      settled long ago, and I wish you would not say wicked things like that to
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A moment later she laughed at herself a little; but then, pushing back her
+      tangled hair from her forehead, she went on seriously: &ldquo;David, what you
+      tell me of is all that I ever thought of enjoying in life; and yet I am so
+      glad that you did not say anything about it before! For I want to love you
+      because of <i>you</i>, and I want you to know that I would follow you and
+      worship you and live in your love if there were nothing else in life for
+      you to offer me. And, David, do you not see that you are never going to
+      make this poor, restless creature happy until you have given her something
+      stern to do, something that she may know she is doing just for your love
+      and for nothing else, bearing some effort and pain to make you happy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl had put her hands upon his shoulders, and was gazing earnestly
+      into his eyes; he looked at her for a moment, and then responded in a low
+      voice: &ldquo;Helen, dearest, let us not play with fearful words, and let us not
+      tempt sorrow. My life has not been all happiness, and you will have pain
+      enough to share with me, I fear, poor little girl.&rdquo; She thought in a flash
+      of his sickness, and she turned quite pale as she looked at him; but then
+      she bent forward gently and folded her arms about him, and for a minute
+      more there was silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were tears standing in David's eyes when she looked at him again.
+      But he smiled in spite of them and kissed her once more, and said:
+      &ldquo;Sweetheart, it is not wrong that we should be happy while we can; and
+      come what may, you know, we need not ever cease to love. When I hear such
+      noble words from you I think I have a medicine to make all sickness light;
+      so be bright and beautiful once more for my sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen smiled and answered that she would, and then her eye chanced to
+      light upon the ground, where she saw the wild rose lying forgotten; she
+      stooped down and picked it up, and then knelt on the grass beside David
+      and pressed it against his bosom while she gazed up into his face. &ldquo;Once,&rdquo;
+       she said, smiling tenderly, &ldquo;I read a pretty little stanza, and if you
+      will love me more for it, I will tell it to you.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;'The sweetest flower that blows
+    I give you as we part,
+  To you, it is a rose,
+    To me, it is a heart.'&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And the man took the flower, and took the hands too, and kissed them; then
+      a memory chanced to come to him, and he glanced about him on the
+      moss-covered forest floor. He saw some little clover-like leaves that all
+      forest-lovers love, and he stooped and picked one of the gleaming white
+      blossoms and laid it in Helen's hands. &ldquo;Dearest,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it is
+      beautiful to make love with the flowers; I chanced to think how I once <i>wrote</i>
+      a pretty little poem, and if you will love me more for it, I will tell it
+      to <i>you</i>.&rdquo; Then while the girl gazed at him happily, he went on to
+      add, &ldquo;This was long before I knew you, dear, and when I worshiped the
+      flowers. One of them was this little wood sorrel.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  I found it in the forest dark,
+    A blossom of the snow;
+  I read upon its face so fair,
+    No heed of human woe.
+
+  Yet when I sang my passion song
+    And when the sun rose higher,
+  The flower flung wide its heart to me,
+    And lo! its heart was fire.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen gazed at him a moment after he finished, and then she took the
+      little flower and laid it gently back in the group from which he had
+      plucked it; afterwards she looked up and laughed. &ldquo;I want that poem for
+      myself,&rdquo; she said, and drew closer to him, and put her arms about him; he
+      gazed into her upraised face, and there was a look of wonder in his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, precious girl,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I wonder if you know what a vision of
+      beauty God has made you! I wonder if you know how fair your eyes are, if
+      you know what glory a man may read in your face! Helen, when I look upon
+      you I know that God has meant to pay me for all my years of pain; and it
+      is all that I can do to think that you are really, really mine. Do you not
+      know that to gaze upon you will make me a mad, mad creature for years and
+      years and years?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen answered him gravely: &ldquo;With all my beauty, David, I am really,
+      really yours; and I love you so that I do not care anything in the world
+      about being beautiful, except because it makes you happy; to do that I
+      shall be always just as perfect as I may, thro all those mad years and
+      years and years!&rdquo; Then, as she glanced about her, she added: &ldquo;We must go
+      pretty soon, because it is late; but oh, before we do, sweetheart, will
+      you kiss me once more for all those years and years and years?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And David bent over and clasped her in his arms again,
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Sie ist mir ewig, ist mir
+  immer, Erb und Eigen, ein und all!
+</pre>
+    <h3>
+      END OF PART I <br /><br />
+    </h3>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PART II
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;When summer gathers up her robes of glory,
+  And like a dream of beauty glides away.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Across the hills and far away,
+    Beyond their utmost purple rim,
+  And deep into the dying day
+    The happy princess follow'd him.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      It was several months after Helen's marriage. The scene was a little lake,
+      in one of the wildest parts of the Adirondacks, surrounded by tall
+      mountains which converted it into a basin in the land, and walled in by a
+      dense growth about the shores, which added still more to its appearance of
+      seclusion. In only one place was the scenery more open, where there was a
+      little vale between two of the hills, and where a mountain torrent came
+      rushing down the steep incline. There the underbrush had been cleared
+      away, and beneath the great forest trees a house constructed, a little
+      cabin built of logs, and in harmony with the rest of the scene.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only large enough for two or three rooms downstairs, and as many
+      above, and all were furnished in the plainest way. About the main room
+      there were shelves of books, and a piano and a well-chosen music-library.
+      It was the little home which for a dozen years or more David Howard had
+      occupied alone, and where he and Helen had spent the golden summer of
+      their love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was late in the fall then, and the mountains were robed in scarlet and
+      orange. Helen was standing upon the little piazza, a shawl flung about her
+      shoulders, because it was yet early in the morning. She was talking to her
+      father, who had been paying them a few days' visit, and was taking a last
+      look about him at the fresh morning scene before it was time for him to
+      begin his long homeward journey.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was clad in a simple dress, and with the prettiest of white sun
+      bonnets tied upon her head; she was browned by the sun, and looked a
+      picture of health and happiness as she held her father's arm in hers. &ldquo;And
+      then you are quite sure that you are happy?&rdquo; he was saying, as he looked
+      at her radiant face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She echoed the word&mdash;&ldquo;Happy?&rdquo; and then she stretched out her arms and
+      took a deep breath and echoed it again. &ldquo;I am so happy,&rdquo; she laughed, &ldquo;I
+      never know what to do! You did not stay long enough for me to tell you,
+      Daddy!&rdquo; She paused for a moment, and then went on, &ldquo;I think there never
+      was anybody in the world so full of joy. For this is such a beautiful
+      little home, you know, and we live such a beautiful life; and oh, we love
+      each other so that the days seem to fly by like the wind! I never even
+      have time to think how happy I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your husband really loves you as much as he ought,&rdquo; said the father,
+      gazing at her tenderly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think God never put on earth another such man as David,&rdquo; replied, the
+      girl, with sudden gravity. &ldquo;He is so noble, and so unselfish in every
+      little thing; I see it in his eyes every instant that all his life is
+      lived for nothing but to win my love. And it just draws the heart right
+      out of me, Daddy, so that I could live on my knees before him, just trying
+      to tell him how much I love him. I cannot ever love him enough; but it
+      grows&mdash;it grows like great music, and every day my heart is more
+      full!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was standing with her head thrown back, gazing ahead of her; then
+      she turned and laughed, and put her arm about her father again, saying:
+      &ldquo;Haven't you just seen what a beautiful life we live? And oh, Daddy, most
+      of the time I am afraid because I married David, when I see how much he
+      knows. Just think of it,&mdash;he has lived all alone ever since he was
+      young, and done nothing but read and study. Now he brings all those
+      treasures to me, to make me happy with, and he frightens me.&rdquo; She stopped
+      for a moment and then continued earnestly: &ldquo;I have to be able to go with
+      him everywhere, you know, I can't expect him to stay back all his life for
+      me; and that makes me work very hard. David says that there is one duty in
+      the world higher than love, and that is the duty of labor,&mdash;that no
+      soul in the world can be right for one instant if it is standing still and
+      is satisfied, even with the soul it loves. He told me that before he
+      married me, but at first when we came up here he was so impatient that he
+      quite frightened me; but now I have learned to understand it all, and we
+      are wonderfully one in everything. Daddy, dear, isn't it a beautiful way
+      to live, to be always striving, and having something high and sacred in
+      one's mind? And to make all of one's life from one's own heart, and not to
+      be dependent upon anything else? David and I live away off here in the
+      mountains, and we never have anything of what other people call comforts
+      and enjoyments&mdash;we have nothing but a few books and a little music,
+      and Nature, and our own love; and we are so wonderfully happy with just
+      those that nothing else in the world could make any difference, certainly
+      nothing that money could buy us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was worried when you wrote me that you did not even have a servant,&rdquo;
+       said Mr. Davis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't any trouble,&rdquo; laughed Helen. (David's man lived in the village
+      half a mile away and came over every day to bring what was necessary.)
+      &ldquo;This is such a tiny little cottage, and David and I are very enthusiastic
+      people, and we want to be able to make lots of noise and do just as we
+      please. We have so much music, you know, Daddy, and of course David is
+      quite a wild man when he gets excited with music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen stopped and looked at her father and laughed; then she rattled
+      merrily on: &ldquo;We are both of us just two children, for David is so much in
+      love with me that it makes him as young as I am; and we are away off from
+      everything, and so we can be as happy with each other as we choose. We
+      have this little lake all to ourselves, you know; it's getting cold now,
+      and pretty soon we'll have to fly away to the south, but all this summer
+      long we used to get up in the morning in time to see the sun rise, and to
+      have a wonderful swim. And then we have so many things to read and study;
+      and David talks to me, and tells me all that he knows; and besides all
+      that we have to tell each other how much we love each other, which takes a
+      fearful amount of time. It seems that neither of us can ever quite realize
+      the glory of it, and when we think of it, it is a wonder that nobody ever
+      told. Is not that a beautiful way to live, Daddy dear, and to love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Davis, &ldquo;that is a very beautiful way indeed. And I think
+      that my little girl has all that I could wish her to have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, there is no need to tell me that!&rdquo; laughed Helen. &ldquo;All I wish is that
+      I might really be like David and be worth his love; I never think about
+      anything else all day.&rdquo; The girl stood for a moment gazing at her father,
+      and then, looking more serious, she put her arm about him and whispered
+      softly: &ldquo;And oh, Daddy, it is too wonderful to talk about, but I ought to
+      tell you; for some day by and by God is going to send us a new, oh, a new,
+      new wonder!&rdquo; And Helen blushed beautifully as her father gazed into her
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took her hand tenderly in his own, and the two stood for some time in
+      silence. When it was broken it was by the rattling of the wagon which had
+      come to take Mr. Davis away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David came out then to bid his guest good-by, and the three stood for a
+      few minutes conversing. It was not very difficult for, Helen to take leave
+      of her father, for she would see him, so she said, in a week or two more.
+      She stood waving her hands to him, until the bumping wagon was lost to
+      sight in the woods, and then she turned and took David's hand in hers and
+      gazed across the water at the gorgeous-colored mountains. The lake was
+      sparkling in the sunlight, and the sky was bright and clear, but Helen's
+      thoughts took a different turn from that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All summer long she had been rejoicing in the glory of the landscape about
+      her, in the glowing fern and the wild-flowers underfoot, and in the
+      boundless canopy of green above, with its unresting song-birds; now there
+      were only the shrill cries of a pair of blue-jays to be heard, and every
+      puff of wind that came brought down a shower of rustling leaves to the
+      already thickly-covered ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not sad, David,&rdquo; the girl said, &ldquo;to think how the beauty should all
+      be going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David did not answer her for a moment. &ldquo;When I think of it,&rdquo; he said at
+      last, &ldquo;it brings me not so much sadness as a strange feeling of mystery.
+      Only stop, and think of what that vanished springtime meant&mdash;think
+      that it was a presence of living, feeling, growing creatures,&mdash;infinite,
+      unthinkable masses of them, robing all the world; and that now the life
+      and the glory of it all is suddenly gone back into nothingness, that it
+      was all but a fleeting vision, a phantom presence on the earth. I never
+      realize that without coming to think of all the other things of life, and
+      that they too are no more real than the springtime flowers; and so it
+      makes me feel as if I were walking upon air, and living in a dream.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was leaning against a post of the piazza, her eyes fixed upon David
+      intently. &ldquo;Does that not give a new meaning to the vanished spring-time?&rdquo;
+       he asked her; and she replied in a wondering whisper, &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; and then
+      gazed at him for a long time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David,&rdquo; she said at last, &ldquo;it is fearful to think of a thing like that.
+      What does it all mean? What causes it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Men have been asking that helpless question since the dawn of time,&rdquo; he
+      answered, &ldquo;we only know what we see, this whirling and weaving of shadows,
+      with its sacred facts of beauty and love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen looked at him thoughtfully a moment, and then, recollecting
+      something she had heard from her father, she said, &ldquo;But, David, if God be
+      a mystery like that, how can there be any religion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What we may fancy God to be makes no difference,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;That
+      which we know is always the same, we have always the love and always the
+      beauty. All men's religion is but the assertion that the source of these
+      sacred things must be infinitely sacred, and that whatever may happen to
+      us, that source can suffer no harm; that we live by a power stronger than
+      ourselves, and that has no need of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was looking at her husband anxiously; then suddenly she asked him,
+      &ldquo;But tell me then, David; you do not believe in heaven? You do not believe
+      that our souls are immortal?&rdquo; As he answered her in the negative she gave
+      a slight start, and knitted her brows; and after another pause she
+      demanded, &ldquo;You do not believe in revealed religion then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David could not help smiling, recognizing the voice of his clerical
+      father-in-law; when he answered, however, he was serious again. &ldquo;Some day,
+      perhaps, dear Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I will tell you all about what I think as
+      to such things. But very few of the world's real thinkers believe in
+      revealed religions any more&mdash;they have come to see them simply as
+      guesses of humanity at God's great sacred mystery, and to believe that
+      God's way of revealing Himself to men is through the forms of life itself.
+      As to the question of immortality that you speak of, I have always felt
+      that death is a sign of the fact that God is infinite and perfect, and
+      that we are but shadows in his sight; that we live by a power that is not
+      our own, and seek for beauty that is not our own, and that each instant of
+      our lives is a free gift which we can only repay by thankfulness and
+      worship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused for a moment, and the girl, who had still been gazing at him
+      thoughtfully, went on, &ldquo;Father used to talk about those things to me,
+      David, and he showed me how the life of men is all spent in suffering and
+      struggling, and that therefore faith teaches us&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dearest,&rdquo; the other put in, &ldquo;I know all that you are going to say; I
+      have read these arguments very often, you know. But suppose that I were to
+      tell you that I think suffering and struggling is the very essence of the
+      soul, and that what faith teaches us is that the suffering and struggling
+      are sacred, and not in the least that they are some day to be made as
+      nothing? Dearest, if it is true that the soul makes this life what it is,
+      a life of restless seeking for an infinite, would it not make the same
+      life anywhere else? Do you remember reading with me Emerson's poem about
+      Uriel, the seraph who sang before God's throne,&mdash;how even that could
+      not please him, and how he left it to plunge into the struggle of things
+      imperfect; and how ever after the rest of the seraphim were afraid of
+      Uriel? Do you think, dearest, that this life of love and labor that you
+      and I live our own selves needs anything else to justify it? The life that
+      I lived all alone was much harder and more full of pain than this, but I
+      never thought that it needed any rewarding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David stopped and stood gazing ahead of him thoughtfully; when he
+      continued his voice was lower and more solemn. &ldquo;These things are almost
+      too sacred to talk of, Helen,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but there is one doubt that I
+      have known about this, one thing that has made me wonder if there ought
+      not to be another world after all. I never sympathized with any man's
+      longing for heaven, but I can understand how a man might be haunted by
+      some fearful baseness of his own self,&mdash;something which long years of
+      effort had taught him he could not ever expiate by the strength of his own
+      heart,&mdash;and how he could pray that there might be some place where
+      rightness might be won at last, cost what it would.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man's tone had been so strange as he spoke that it caused Helen to
+      start; suddenly she came closer to him and put her hands upon his
+      shoulders and gazed into his eyes. &ldquo;David,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;listen to me a
+      moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it because of yourself that you said those words?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was silent for a moment, gazing into her anxious eyes; then he bowed
+      his head and said in a faint voice, &ldquo;Yes, dear, it was because of myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the girl, becoming suddenly very serious, went on, &ldquo;Do you remember,
+      David, a long time ago&mdash;the time that I was leaving Aunt Polly's&mdash;that
+      you told me how you knew what it was to have something very terrible on
+      one's conscience? I have not ever said anything about that, but I have
+      never forgotten it. Was it that that you thought of then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, dear, it was that,&rdquo; answered the other, trembling slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen stooped down upon her knees and put her arms about him, gazing up
+      pleadingly into his face. &ldquo;Dearest David,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;is it right to
+      refuse to tell me about that sorrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence, after which the man replied slowly, &ldquo;I have not
+      ever refused to tell you, sweetheart; it would be very fearful to tell,
+      but I have not any secrets from you; and if you wished it, you should
+      know. But, dear, it was long, long ago, and nothing can ever change it
+      now. It would only make us sad to know it, so why should we talk of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped, and Helen gazed long and earnestly into his face. &ldquo;David,&rdquo; she
+      said, &ldquo;it is not possible for me to imagine you ever doing anything wrong,
+      you are so good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said David, &ldquo;it is because you are so good yourself.&rdquo; But Helen
+      interrupted him at that with a quick rejoinder: &ldquo;Do you forget that I too
+      have a sorrow upon my conscience?&rdquo; Afterwards, as she saw that the eager
+      remark caused the other to smile in spite of himself, she checked him
+      gravely with the words, &ldquo;Have you really forgotten so soon? Do you suppose
+      I do not ever think now of how I treated poor Arthur, and how I drove away
+      from me the best friend of my girlhood? He wrote me that he would think of
+      me no more, but, David, sometimes I wonder if it were not just an angry
+      boast, and if he might not yet be lonely and wretched, somewhere in this
+      great cold world where I cannot ever find him or help him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl paused; David was regarding her earnestly, and for a long time
+      neither of them spoke. Then suddenly the man bent down, and pressed a kiss
+      upon her forehead. &ldquo;Let us only love each other, dear,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;and
+      try to keep as right as we can while the time is given us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence after that while the two sat gazing out across
+      the blue lake; when Helen spoke again it was to say, &ldquo;Some day you must
+      tell me all about it, David, because I can help you; but let us not talk
+      about these dreadful things now.&rdquo; She stopped again, and afterwards went
+      on thoughtfully, &ldquo;I was thinking still of what you said about immortality,
+      and how very strange it is to think of ceasing to be. Might it not be,
+      David, that heaven is a place not of reward, but of the same ceaseless
+      effort as you spoke of?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;that is the thought of 'the wages of going
+      on.' And of course, dear, we would all like those wages; there is no
+      thought that tempts me so much as the possibility of being able to
+      continue the great race forever; but I don't see how we have the least
+      right to demand it, or that the facts give us the least reason to suppose
+      that we will get it. It seems to me simply a fantastic and arbitrary
+      fancy; the re-creating of a worn-out life in that way. I do not think,
+      dearest, that I am in the least justified in claiming an eternity of
+      vision because God gives me an hour; and when I ask Him the question in my
+      own heart I learn simply that I am a wretched, sodden creature that I do
+      not crowd that hour with all infinity and go quite mad at the sight of the
+      beauty that He flings wide before me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen did not reply for a while, and then she asked: &ldquo;And you think,
+      David, that our life justifies itself no matter how much suffering may be
+      in it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think, dearest,&rdquo; was his reply, &ldquo;that the soul's life is struggle, and
+      that the soul's life is sacred; and that to be right, to struggle to be
+      right, is not only life's purpose, but also life's reward; and that each
+      instant of such righteousness is its own warrant, tho the man be swept out
+      of existence in the next.&rdquo; Then David stopped, and when he went on it was
+      in a lower voice. &ldquo;Dear Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;after I have told you what I
+      feel I deserve in life, you can understand my not wishing to talk lightly
+      about such things as suffering. Just now, as I sit here at my ease, and in
+      fact all through my poor life, I have felt about such sacred words as duty
+      and righteousness that it would be just as well if they did not ever pass
+      my lips. But there have come to me one or two times, dear, when I dared a
+      little of the labor of things, and drank a drop or two of the wine of the
+      spirit; and those times have lived to haunt me and make me at least not a
+      happy man in my unearned ease. There come to me still just once in a while
+      hours when I get sight of the gleam, hours that make me loathe all that in
+      my hours of comfort I loved; and there comes over me then a kind of
+      Titanic rage, that I should go down a beaten soul because I have not the
+      iron strength of will to lash my own self to life, and tear out of my own
+      heart a little of what power is in it. At such times, Helen, I find just
+      this one wish in my mind,&mdash;that God would send to me, cost what it
+      might, some of the fearful experience that rouses a man's soul within him,
+      and makes him live his life in spite of all his dullness and his fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David had not finished, but he halted, because he saw a strange look upon
+      the girl's face. She did not answer him at once, but sat gazing at him;
+      and then she said in a very grave voice, &ldquo;David, I do not like to hear
+      such words as that from you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What words, dearest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean actually that it sometimes seems to you wrong to live happily
+      with me as you have?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David laid his hand quietly upon hers, watching for a minute her anxious
+      countenance. Then he said in a low voice: &ldquo;You ought not to ask me about
+      such things, dear, or blame me for them. Sometimes I have to face the very
+      cruel thought that I ought not ever to have linked my fate to one so sweet
+      and gentle as you, because what I ought to be doing in the world to win a
+      right conscience is something so hard and so stern that it would mean that
+      I could never be really happy all my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David was about to go on, but he stopped again because of Helen's look of
+      displeasure. &ldquo;David,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;that is the most unloving thing that
+      I have ever heard from you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you must blame me, dear, because of it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; Helen answered, &ldquo;that you would misunderstand me as long as I
+      chose to let you. Do you not suppose that I too have a conscience,&mdash;do
+      you suppose that I want any happiness it is wrong for us to take, or that
+      I would not dare to go anywhere that your duty took you? And do you
+      suppose that anything could be so painful to me as to know that you do not
+      trust me, that you are afraid to live your life, and do what is your duty,
+      before me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David bent down suddenly and pressed a kiss upon the girl's forehead.
+      &ldquo;Precious little heart,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;those words are very beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not say them because they were beautiful,&rdquo; answered Helen gravely;
+      &ldquo;I said them because I meant them, and because I wanted you to take them
+      in earnest. I want to know what it is that you and I ought to be doing,
+      instead of enjoying our lives; and after you have told me what it is I can
+      tell you one thing&mdash;that I shall not be happy again in my life until
+      it is done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David watched her thoughtfully a while before he answered, because he saw
+      that she was very much in earnest. Then he said sadly, &ldquo;Dearest Helen,
+      perhaps the reason that I have never been able all through my life to
+      satisfy my soul is the pitiful fact that I have not the strength to dare
+      any of the work of other men; I have had always to chafe under the fact
+      that I must choose between nourishing my poor body, or ceasing to live. I
+      have learned that all my power&mdash;and more too, as it sometimes seemed,&mdash;was
+      needed to bear bravely the dreadful trials that God has sent to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen paled slightly; she felt his hand trembling upon hers, and she
+      remembered his illness at her aunt's, about which she had never had the
+      courage to speak to him. &ldquo;And so, dear heart,&rdquo; he went on slowly, &ldquo;let us
+      only be sure that we are keeping our lives pure and strong, that we are
+      living in the presence of high thoughts and keeping the mastery of
+      ourselves, and saying and really meaning that we live for something
+      unselfish; so that if duty and danger come, we shall not prove cowards,
+      and if suffering comes we should not give way and lose our faith. Does
+      that please you, dear Helen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl pressed his hand silently in hers. After a while he went on still
+      more solemnly: &ldquo;Some time,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I meant to talk to you about just
+      that, dearest, to tell you how stern and how watchful we ought to be. It
+      is very sad to me to see what happens when the great and fearful realities
+      of life disclose themselves to good and kind people who have been living
+      without any thought of such things. I feel that it is very wrong to live
+      so, that if we wished to be right we would hold the high truths before us,
+      no matter how much labor it cost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What truths do you mean?&rdquo; asked Helen earnestly; and he answered her:
+      &ldquo;For one, the very fearful fact of which I have just been talking&mdash;that
+      you and I are two bubbles that meet for an instant upon the whirling
+      stream of time. Suppose, sweetheart, that I were to tell you that I do not
+      think you and I would be living our lives truly, until we were quite sure
+      that we could bear to be parted forever without losing our faith in God's
+      righteousness?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen turned quite white, and clutched the other's hands in hers; she had
+      not once thought of actually applying what he had said to her. &ldquo;David!
+      David!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man smiled gently as he brushed back the hair from her forehead and
+      gazed into her eyes. &ldquo;And when you asked for sternness, dear,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;was it that you did not know what the word meant? Life is real, dear
+      Helen, and the effort it demands is real effort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl did not half hear these last words; she was still staring at her
+      husband. &ldquo;Listen to me, David,&rdquo; she said at last, still holding his hand
+      tightly in hers, her voice almost a whisper; &ldquo;I could bear anything for
+      you, David, I know that I could bear <i>anything</i>; I could really die
+      for you, I say that with all my soul,&mdash;that was what I was thinking
+      of when you spoke of death. But David, if you were to be taken from me,&mdash;if
+      you were to be taken from me&mdash;&rdquo; and she stopped, unable to find a
+      word more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps it will be just as well not to tell me, dear heart,&rdquo; he said to
+      her, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David,&rdquo; she went on more strenuously yet, &ldquo;listen to me&mdash;you must
+      not ever ask me to think of that! Do you hear me? For, oh, it cannot be
+      true, it cannot be true, David, that you could be taken from me forever!
+      What would I have left to live for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you not have the great wonderful God?&rdquo; asked the other gently&mdash;&ldquo;the
+      God who made me and all that was lovable in me, and made you, and would
+      demand that you worship him?&rdquo; But Helen only shook her head once more and
+      answered, &ldquo;It could not be true, David,&mdash;no, no!&rdquo; Then she added in a
+      faint voice, &ldquo;What would be the use of my having lived?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man bent forward and kissed her again, and kissed away a little of the
+      frightened, anxious look upon her face. &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; he said with a gentle
+      smile, &ldquo;perhaps I was wrong to trouble you with such fearful things after
+      all. Let me tell you instead a thought that once came to my mind, and that
+      has stayed there as the one I should like to call the most beautiful of
+      all my life; it may help to answer that question of yours about the use of
+      having lived. Men love life so much, Helen dear, that they cannot ever
+      have enough of it, and to keep it and build it up they make what we call
+      the arts; this thought of mine is about one of them, about music, the art
+      that you and I love most. For all the others have been derived from things
+      external, but music was made out of nothing, and exists but for its one
+      great purpose, and therefore is the most spiritual of all of them. I like
+      to say that it is time made beautiful, and so a shadow picture of the
+      soul; it is this, because it can picture different degrees of speed and of
+      power, because it can breathe and throb, can sweep and soar, can yearn and
+      pray,&mdash;because, in short, everything that happens in the heart can
+      happen in music, so that we may lose ourselves in it and actually live its
+      life, or so that a great genius can not merely tell us about himself, but
+      can make all the best hours of his soul actually a part of our own. This
+      thought that I said was beautiful came to me from noticing how perfectly
+      the art was one with that which it represented; so that we may say not
+      only that music is life, but that life is music. Music exists because it
+      is beautiful, dear Helen, and because it brings an instant of the joy of
+      beauty to our hearts, and for no other reason whatever; it may be music of
+      happiness or of sorrow, of achievement or only of hope, but so long as it
+      is beautiful it is right, and it makes no difference, either, that it cost
+      much labor of men, or that when it is gone it is gone forever. And
+      dearest, suppose that the music not only was beautiful, but knew that it
+      was beautiful; that it was not only the motion of the air, but also the
+      joy of our hearts; might it not then be its own excuse, just one strain of
+      it that rose in the darkness, and quivered and died away again forever?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When David had spoken thus he stopped and sat still for a while, gazing at
+      his wife; then seeing the anxious look still in possession of her face, he
+      rose suddenly by way of ending their talk. &ldquo;Dearest,&rdquo; he said, smiling,
+      &ldquo;it is wrong of me, perhaps, to worry you about such very fearful things
+      as those; let us go in, and find something to do that is useful, and not
+      trouble ourselves with them any more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;O Freude, habe Acht!
+    Sprich leise,
+  Dass nicht der Schmerz erwacht!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      It was late on the afternoon of the day that Helen's father had left for
+      home, and David was going into the village with some letters to mail.
+      Helen was not feeling very well herself and could not go, but she insisted
+      upon his going, for she watched over his exercise and other matters of
+      health with scrupulous care. She had wrapped him up in a heavy overcoat,
+      and was kneeling beside his chair with her arms about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, dear,&rdquo; she asked him, for the third or fourth time, &ldquo;are you
+      sure this will be enough to keep you warm?&mdash;for the nights are so
+      very cold, you know; I do not like you to come back alone anyway.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think you would be much of a protection against danger,&rdquo; laughed
+      David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it will be dark when you get back, dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will only be about dusk,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;I don't mind that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen gazed at him wistfully for a minute, and then she went on: &ldquo;Do you
+      not know what is the matter with me, David? You frightened me to-day, and
+      I cannot forget what you said. Each time that it comes to my mind it makes
+      me shudder. Why should you say such fearful things to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry,&rdquo; said the other, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You simply must not talk to me so!&rdquo; cried the girl; &ldquo;if you do you will
+      make me so that I cannot bear to leave you for an instant. For those
+      thoughts make my love for you simply desperate, David; I cry out to myself
+      that I never have loved you enough, never told you enough!&rdquo; And then she
+      added pleadingly, &ldquo;But oh, you know that I love you, do you not, dear?
+      Tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know it,&rdquo; said the other gently, taking her in his arms and
+      kissing her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come back soon,&rdquo; Helen went on, &ldquo;and I will tell you once more how much I
+      do; and then we can be happy again, and I won't be afraid any more. Please
+      let me be happy, won't you, David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, love, I will,&rdquo; said the man with a smile. &ldquo;I do not think that I was
+      wise ever to trouble you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was silent for a while, then as a sudden thought occurred to her she
+      added: &ldquo;David, I meant to tell you something&mdash;do you know if those
+      horrible thoughts keep haunting me, it is just this that they will make me
+      do; you said that God was very good, and so I was thinking that I would
+      show him how very much I love you, how I could really never get along
+      without you, and how I care for nothing else in the world. It seems to me
+      to be such a little thing, that we should only just want to love; and
+      truly, that is all I do want,&mdash;I would not mind anything else in the
+      world,&mdash;I would go away from this little house and live in any poor
+      place, and do all the work, and never care about anything else at all, if
+      I just might have you. That is really true, David, and I wish that you
+      would know it, and that God would know it, and not expect me to think of
+      such dreadful things as you talk of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As David gazed into her deep, earnest eyes he pressed her to him with a
+      sudden burst of emotion. &ldquo;You have me now, dearest,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;and
+      oh, I shall trust the God who gave me this precious heart!&rdquo;&mdash;He
+      kissed her once more in fervent love, and kissed her again and again until
+      the clouds had left her face. She leaned back and gazed at him, and was
+      radiant with delight again. &ldquo;Oh&mdash;oh&mdash;oh!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;David, it
+      only makes me more full of wonder at the real truth! For it is the truth,
+      David, it is the truth&mdash;that you are all mine! It is so wonderful,
+      and it makes me so happy,&mdash;I seem to lose myself more in the thought
+      every day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can never lose yourself too much, little sweetheart,&rdquo; David
+      whispered; &ldquo;let us trust to love, and let it grow all that it will. Helen,
+      I never knew what it was to live until I met you,&mdash;never knew how
+      life could be so full and rich and happy. And never, never will I be able
+      to tell you how much I love you, dearest soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but I believe you without being told!&rdquo; she said, laughing. &ldquo;Do you
+      know, I could make myself quite mad just with saying over to myself that
+      you love me all that I could ever wish you to love me, all that I could
+      imagine you loving me! Isn't that true, David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is true,&rdquo; the man replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you don't know what a wonderful imagination I have,&rdquo; laughed the
+      girl, &ldquo;and how hungry for your love I am.&rdquo; And she clasped him to her
+      passionately and cried, &ldquo;David, you can make me too happy to live with
+      that thought! I shall have to think about it all the time that you are
+      gone, and when you come back I shall be so wonderfully excited,&mdash;oh&mdash;oh,
+      David!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she laughed eagerly and sprang up. &ldquo;You must not stay any longer,&rdquo;
+       she exclaimed, &ldquo;because it is getting late; only hurry back, because I can
+      do nothing but wait for you.&rdquo; And so she led him to the door, and kissed
+      him again, and then watched him as he started up the road. He turned and
+      looked at her, as she leaned against the railing of the porch, with the
+      glory of the sunset falling upon her hair; she made a radiant picture, for
+      her cheeks were still flushed, and her bosom still heaving with the glory
+      of the thought she had promised to keep. There was so much of her love in
+      the look which she kept upon David that it took some resolution to go on
+      and leave her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for Helen, she watched him until he had quite disappeared in the
+      forest, after which she turned and gazed across the lake at the gold and
+      crimson mountains. But all the time she was still thinking the thought of
+      David's love; the wonder of it was still upon her face, and it seemed to
+      lift her form; until at last she stretched wide her arms, and leaned back
+      her head, and drank a deep draft of the evening air, whispering aloud,
+      &ldquo;Oh, I do not dare to be as happy as I can!&rdquo; And she clasped her arms upon
+      her bosom and laughed a wild laugh of joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Later on, because it was cold, she turned and went into the house, singing
+      a song to herself as she moved. As she went to the piano and sat down she
+      saw upon the rack the little springtime song of Grieg's that was the first
+      thing she had ever heard upon David's violin; she played a few bars of it
+      to herself, and then she stopped and sat still, lost in the memory which
+      it brought to her mind of the night when she had sat at the window and
+      listened to it, just after seeing Arthur for the last time. &ldquo;And to think
+      that it was only four or five months ago!&rdquo; she whispered to herself. &ldquo;And
+      how wretched I was!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not believe I could ever be so unhappy again,&rdquo; she went on after a
+      while, &ldquo;I know that I could not, while I have David!&rdquo; after which her
+      thoughts came back into the old, old course of joy. When she looked at the
+      music again the memory of her grief was gone, and she read in it all of
+      her own love-glory. She played it through again, and afterwards sat quite
+      still, until the twilight had begun to gather in the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen then rose and lit the lamp, and the fire in the open fire-place; she
+      glanced at the clock and saw that more than a quarter of an hour had
+      passed, and she said to herself that it could not be more than that time
+      again before David was back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should go out and meet him if I were feeling quite strong,&rdquo; she added
+      as she went to the door and looked out; then she exclaimed suddenly: &ldquo;But
+      oh, I know how I can please him better!&rdquo; And the girl went to the table
+      where some of her books were lying, and sat down and began very diligently
+      studying, glancing every half minute at the clock and at the door. &ldquo;I
+      shall be too busy even to hear him!&rdquo; she said, with a sudden burst of
+      glee; and quite delighted with the effect that would produce she listened
+      eagerly every time she fancied she heard a step, and then fixed her eyes
+      upon the book, and put on a look of most complete absorption.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unfortunately for Helen's plan, however, each time it proved to be a false
+      alarm; and so the fifteen minutes passed completely, and then five, and
+      five again. The girl had quite given up studying by that time, and was
+      gazing at the clock, and listening to its ticking, and wondering very much
+      indeed. At last when more than three-quarters of an hour had passed since
+      David had left, she got up and went to the door once more to listen; as
+      she did not hear anything she went out on the piazza, and finally to the
+      road. All about her was veiled in shadow, which her eyes strove in vain to
+      pierce; and so growing still more impatient she raised her voice and
+      called, &ldquo;David, David!&rdquo; and then stood and listened to the rustling of the
+      leaves and the faint lapping of the water on the shore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very strange,&rdquo; Helen thought, growing very anxious indeed; &ldquo;it is
+      fearfully strange! What in the world can have happened?&rdquo; And she called
+      again, with no more result that before; until with a sudden resolution she
+      turned and passed quickly into the house, and flinging a wrap about her,
+      came out and started down the road. Occasionally she raised her voice and
+      shouted David's name, but still she got no reply, and her anxiety soon
+      changed into alarm, and she was hurrying along, almost in a run. In this
+      way she climbed the long ascent which the road made from the lake shore;
+      and when she had reached the top of it she gathered her breath and shouted
+      once more, louder and more excitedly than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This time she heard the expected reply, and found that David was only a
+      few rods ahead of her. &ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; she called to him, and as he
+      answered that it was nothing, but to come to him, she ran on more alarmed
+      than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was just light enough for her to see that David was bending down;
+      and then as she got very near she saw that on the ground in front of him
+      was lying a dark, shadowy form. As Helen cried out again to know what was
+      the matter, her husband said, &ldquo;Do not be frightened, dear; it is only some
+      poor woman that I have found here by the roadside.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A woman!&rdquo; the girl echoed in wonder, at the same time giving a gasp of
+      relief at the discovery that her husband was not in trouble. &ldquo;Where in the
+      world can she have come from, David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;but she probably wandered off the main
+      road. It is some poor, wretched creature, Helen; she has been drinking,
+      and is quite helpless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen stood still in horror, while David arose and came to her. &ldquo;You
+      are out of breath, dear,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;why did you come so fast?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I was so frightened!&rdquo; the girl panted. &ldquo;I cannot tell you, David,
+      what happens in my heart whenever I think of your coming to any harm. It
+      was dreadful, for I knew something serious must be the matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David put his arm about her and kissed her to quiet her fears; then he
+      said, &ldquo;You ought not to have come out, dear; but be calm now, for there is
+      nothing to worry you, only we must take care of this poor woman. It is
+      such a sad sight, Helen; I wish that you had not come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What were you going to do?&rdquo; asked the girl, forgetting herself quickly in
+      her sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I meant to come down and tell you,&rdquo; was David's reply; &ldquo;and then go back
+      to town and get someone to come and take her away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, David, you can never get back over that rough road in the darkness!&rdquo;
+       exclaimed Helen in alarm; &ldquo;it is too far for you to walk, even in the
+      daytime&mdash;I will not let you do it, you must not!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But dear, this poor creature cannot be left here; it will be a bitter
+      cold night, and she might die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was silent for a moment in thought, and then she said in a low,
+      trembling voice: &ldquo;David, there is only one thing to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that, dear?&rdquo; asked the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will have to take her home with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know what you are saying?&rdquo; asked the other with a start; &ldquo;that
+      would be a fearful thing to do, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot help it,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;it is the only thing. And it would be
+      wicked not to be willing to do that, because she is a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is in a fearful way, dear,&rdquo; said the other, hesitatingly; &ldquo;and to ask
+      you to take care of her&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would do anything sooner than let you take that walk in such darkness
+      as this!&rdquo; was the girl's reply; and with that statement she silenced all
+      of his objections.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so at last David pressed her hand, and whispered, &ldquo;Very well, dear,
+      God will bless you for it.&rdquo; Then for a while the two stood in silence,
+      until Helen asked, &ldquo;Do you think that we can carry her, poor creature?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We may try it,&rdquo; the other replied; and Helen went and knelt by the
+      prostrate figure. The woman was muttering to herself, but she seemed to be
+      quite dazed, and not to know what was going on about her. Helen did not
+      hesitate any longer, but bent over and strove to lift her; the woman was
+      fortunately of a slight build, and seemed to be very thin, so that with
+      David's help it was easy to raise her to her feet. It was a fearful task
+      none the less, for the poor wretch was foul with the mud in which she had
+      been lying, and her wet hair was streaming over her shoulders; as Helen
+      strove to lift her up the head sunk over upon her, but the girl bit her
+      lips together grimly. She put her arm about the woman's waist, and David
+      did the same on the other side, and so the three started, stumbling slowly
+      along in the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you sure that it is not too much for you?&rdquo; David asked; &ldquo;we can stop
+      whenever you like, Helen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, let us go on,&rdquo; the girl said; &ldquo;she has almost no weight, and we must
+      not leave her out here in the cold. Her hands are almost frozen now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They soon made their way on down to where the lights of the little cottage
+      shone through the trees. David could not but shrink back as he thought of
+      taking their wretched burden into their little home, but he heard the
+      woman groan feebly, and he was ashamed of his thought. Nothing more was
+      said until they had climbed the steps, not without difficulty, and had
+      deposited their burden upon the floor of the sitting room; after which
+      David rose and sank back into a chair, for the strain had been a heavy one
+      for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen also sprang up as she gazed at the figure; the woman was foul with
+      every misery that disease and sin can bring upon a human creature, her
+      clothing torn to shreds and her face swollen and stained. She was half
+      delirious, and clawing about her with her shrunken, quivering hands, so
+      that Helen exclaimed in horror: &ldquo;Oh God, that is the most dreadful sight I
+      have ever seen in my life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come away,&rdquo; said the other, raising himself from the chair; &ldquo;it is not
+      right that you should look at such things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But with Helen it was only a moment before her pity had overcome every
+      other emotion; she knelt down by the stranger and took one of the cold
+      hands and began chafing it. &ldquo;Poor, poor woman!&rdquo; she exclaimed; &ldquo;oh, what
+      misery you must have suffered! David, what can a woman do to be punished
+      like this? It is fearful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a strange picture which the two made at that moment, the woman in
+      her cruel misery, and the girl in her pure and noble beauty. But Helen had
+      no more thought of shrinking, for all her soul had gone out to the
+      unfortunate stranger, and she kept on trying to bring her back to
+      consciousness. &ldquo;Oh, David,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;what can we do to help her? It is
+      too much that any human being should be like this,&mdash;she would have
+      died if we had not found her.&rdquo; And then as the other opened her eyes and
+      struggled to lift herself, Helen caught an incoherent word and said, &ldquo;I
+      think she is thirsty, David; get some water and perhaps that will help
+      her. We must find some way to comfort her, for this is too horrible to be.
+      And perhaps it is not her fault, you know,&mdash;who knows but perhaps
+      some man may have been the cause of it all? Is it not dreadful to think
+      of, David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the girl went on; her back was turned to her husband, and she was
+      engrossed in her task of mercy, and did not see what he was doing. She did
+      not see that he had started forward in his chair and was staring at the
+      woman; she did not see him leaning forward, farther and farther, with a
+      strange look upon his face. But there was something she did see at last,
+      as the woman lifted herself again and stared first at Helen's own pitying
+      face, and then vaguely about the room, and last of all gazing at David.
+      Suddenly she stretched out her arms to him and strove to rise, with a wild
+      cry that made Helen leap back in consternation:&mdash;&ldquo;David! It's David!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And at the same instant David sprang up with what was almost a scream of
+      horror; he reeled and staggered backwards against the wall, clutching with
+      his hands at his forehead, his face a ghastly, ashen gray; and as Helen
+      sprang up and ran towards him, he sank down upon his knees with a moan,
+      gazing up into the air with a look of agony upon his face. &ldquo;My God! My
+      God!&rdquo; he gasped; &ldquo;it is my Mary!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen sank down beside him, clutching him by the arm, and staring at
+      him in terror. &ldquo;David, David!&rdquo; she whispered, in a hoarse voice. But the
+      man seemed not to hear her, so overwhelmed was he by his own emotion. &ldquo;It
+      is Mary,&rdquo; he cried out again,&mdash;&ldquo;it is my Mary!&mdash;oh God, have
+      mercy upon my soul!&rdquo; And then a shudder passed over him, and he buried his
+      face in his arms and fell down upon the floor, with Helen, almost
+      paralyzed with fright, still clinging to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the meantime the woman had still been stretching out her trembling arms
+      to him, crying his name again and again; as she sank back exhausted the
+      man started up and rushed toward her, clutching her by the hand, and
+      exclaiming frantically, &ldquo;Mary, Mary, it is I&mdash;speak to me!&rdquo; But the
+      other's delirium seemed to have returned, and she only stared at him
+      blankly. At last David staggered to his feet and began pacing wildly up
+      and down, hiding his face in his hands, and crying helplessly, &ldquo;Oh, God,
+      that this should come to me now! Oh, how can I bear it&mdash;oh, Mary,
+      Mary!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sank down upon the sofa again and burst into fearful sobbing; Helen,
+      who had still been kneeling where he left her, rushed toward him and flung
+      her arms about him, crying out, &ldquo;David, David, what is the matter? David,
+      you will kill me; what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he started and stared at her wildly, clutching her arm. &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he
+      gasped, &ldquo;listen to me! I ruined that woman! Do you hear me?&mdash;do you
+      hear me? It was I who betrayed her&mdash;I who made her what she is! <i>I&mdash;I!</i>
+      Oh, leave me,&mdash;leave me alone&mdash;oh, what can I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then as the girl still clung to him, sobbing his name in terror, the man
+      went on, half beside himself with his grief, &ldquo;Oh, think of it&mdash;oh,
+      how can I bear to know it and live? Twenty-three years ago,&mdash;and it
+      comes back to curse me now! And all these years I have been living and
+      forgetting it&mdash;and been happy, and talking of my goodness&mdash;oh
+      God, and this fearful madness upon the earth! And I made it&mdash;I&mdash;and
+      <i>she</i> has had to pay for it! Oh, look at her, Helen, look at her&mdash;think
+      that that foulness is mine! She was beautiful,&mdash;she was pure,&mdash;and
+      she might have been happy, she would have been good, but for me! Oh God in
+      heaven, where can I hide myself, what can I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was still clutching at his arm, crying to him, &ldquo;David, spare me!&rdquo; He
+      flung her off in a mad frenzy, holding her at arm's length, and staring at
+      her with a fearful light in his eyes. &ldquo;Girl, girl!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;do you know
+      who I am&mdash;do you know what I have done? This girl was like you once,
+      and I made her love me&mdash;made her love me with the sacred fire that
+      God had given me, made her love me as I made <i>you</i> love me! And she
+      was beautiful like you&mdash;she was younger than you, and as happy as
+      you! And she trusted me as you trusted me, she gave herself to me as you
+      did, and I took her, and promised her my love&mdash;and now look at her!
+      Can you wish to be near me, can you wish to see me? Oh, Helen, I cannot
+      bear myself&mdash;oh, leave me, I must die!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sank down once more, weeping, all his form shaking with his grief;
+      Helen flung her arms about his neck again, but the man seemed to forget
+      her presence. &ldquo;Oh, think where that woman has been,&rdquo; he moaned; &ldquo;think
+      what she has seen, and done, and suffered&mdash;and what she is! Was there
+      ever such a wreck of womanhood, ever such a curse upon earth? And, oh, for
+      the years that she has lived in her fearful sin, and I have been happy&mdash;great
+      God, what can I do for those years,&mdash;how can I live and gaze upon
+      this crime of mine? I, who sought for beauty, to have made this madness;
+      and it comes now to curse me, now, when it is too late; when the life is
+      wrecked,&mdash;when it is gone forever!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David's voice had sunk into a moan; and then suddenly he heard the woman
+      crying out, and he staggered to his feet. She was sitting up again, her
+      arms stretched out; David caught her in his own, gazing into her face and
+      crying, &ldquo;Mary, Mary! Look at me! Here I am&mdash;I am David, the David you
+      loved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped, gasping for breath, and the woman cried in a faint voice,
+      &ldquo;Water, water!&rdquo; David turned and called to Helen, and the poor girl, tho
+      scarcely able to stand, ran to get a glass of it; another thought came to
+      the man in the meantime, and he turned to the other with a sudden cry. &ldquo;If
+      there were a child!&rdquo; he gasped, &ldquo;a child of mine somewhere in the world,
+      alone and helpless!&rdquo; He stared into the woman's eyes imploringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was gazing at him, choking and trying to speak; she seemed to be
+      making an effort to understand him, and as David repeated his agonizing
+      question she gave a sign of assent, causing a still wilder look to cross
+      the man's face. He called to her again to tell him where; but the woman
+      seemed to be sinking back into her raving, and she only gasped faintly
+      again for water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Helen brought it they poured it down her throat, and then David
+      repeated his question once more; but he gave a groan as he saw that it was
+      all in vain; the wild raving had begun again, and the woman only stared at
+      him blankly, until at last the wretched man, quite overcome, sank down at
+      her side and buried his head upon her shrunken bosom and cried like a
+      child, poor Helen in the meantime clinging to him still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was only when David had quite worn himself out that he seemed to hear
+      her pleading voice; then he looked at her, and for the first time through
+      his own grief caught sight of hers. There was such a look of helpless woe
+      upon Helen's face that he put out his hand to her and whispered faintly,
+      &ldquo;Oh, poor little girl, what have <i>you</i> done that you should suffer
+      so?&rdquo; As Helen drew closer to him, clinging to his hand in fright, he went
+      on, &ldquo;Can you ever forgive me for this horror&mdash;forgive me that I dared
+      to forget it, that I dared to marry you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl's answer was a faint moan, &ldquo;David, David, have mercy on me!&rdquo; He
+      gazed at her for a moment, reading still more of her suffering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;you see what has come upon me&mdash;can you ask me not
+      to be wretched, can you ask me still to live? What can I do for such a
+      crime,&mdash;when I look at this wreck of a soul, what comfort can I hope
+      to find?&rdquo; And the girl, her heart bursting with grief, could only clasp
+      his hands in hers and gaze into his eyes; there was no word she could
+      think of to say to him, and so for a long time the two remained in
+      silence, David again fixing his eyes upon the woman, who seemed to be
+      sinking into a kind of stupor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he looked up once more it was because Helen was whispering in his
+      ear, a new thought having come to her, &ldquo;David, perhaps <i>I</i> might be
+      able to help you yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man replied in a faint, gasping voice, &ldquo;Help me? How?&rdquo; And the girl
+      answered, &ldquo;Come with me,&rdquo; and rose weakly to her feet, half lifting him
+      also. He gazed at the woman and saw that she was lying still, and then he
+      did as Helen asked. She led him gently into the other room, away from the
+      fearful sight, and the two sat down, David limp and helpless, so that he
+      could only sink down in her arms with a groan. &ldquo;Poor, poor David,&rdquo; she
+      whispered, in a voice of infinite pity; &ldquo;oh, my poor David!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you do not scorn me, Helen?&rdquo; the man asked in a faint, trembling
+      voice, and went on pleading with her, in words so abject and so wretched
+      that they wrung the girl's heart more than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, how can you speak to me so?&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;you who are all my life?&rdquo;
+       And then she added with swift intensity, &ldquo;Listen to me, David, it cannot
+      be so bad as that, I know it! Will you not tell me, David? Tell me all, so
+      that I may help you!&rdquo; So she went on pleading with him gently, until at
+      last the man spoke again, in faltering words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I was only a boy; God knows that is one excuse, if it
+      is the only one. I was only seventeen, and she was no more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who was she, David?&rdquo; the girl asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She lived in a village across the mountains from here, near where our
+      home used to be. She was a farmer's daughter, and she was beautiful&mdash;oh,
+      to think that that woman was once a beautiful girl, and innocent and pure!
+      But we were young, we loved each other, and we had no one to warn us; it
+      was so long ago that it seems like a dream to me now, but we sinned, and I
+      took her for mine; then I went home to tell my father, to tell him that
+      she was my wife, and that I must marry her. And oh, God, she was a
+      farmer's daughter, and I was a rich man's son, and the cursed world knows
+      nothing of human souls! And I must not marry her&mdash;I found all the
+      world in arms against it&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you let yourself be persuaded?&rdquo; asked the girl, in a faint whisper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Persuaded?&rdquo; echoed David, his voice shaking; &ldquo;who would have thought of
+      persuading a mad boy? I let myself be commanded and frightened into
+      submission, and carried away. And then five or six miserable months passed
+      away and I got a letter from her, and she was with child, and she was
+      ruined forever,&mdash;she prayed to me in words that have haunted me night
+      and day all my life, to come to her and keep my promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And David stopped and gave a groan; the other whispered, &ldquo;You could not
+      go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;I borrowed money, begged it from one of my
+      father's servants, and ran away and went up there; and oh, I was two days
+      too late!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Too late?&rdquo; exclaimed Helen wonderingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; was the hoarse reply, &ldquo;for she was a weak and helpless girl,
+      and scorned of all the world; and her parents had turned her away, and she
+      was gone, no one knew where. Helen, from that day to this I have never
+      seen her, nor ever heard of her; and now she comes to curse me,&mdash;to
+      curse my soul forever. And it is more than I can bear, more than I can
+      bear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David sank down again, crying out, &ldquo;It is too much, it is too much!&rdquo; But
+      then suddenly he caught his wife's hand in his and stared up at her,
+      exclaiming, &ldquo;And she said there was a child, Helen! Somewhere in the world
+      there is another soul suffering for this sin of mine! Oh, somehow we must
+      find out about that&mdash;something must be done, I could not have two
+      such fearful things to know of. We must find out, we must find out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the man stopped and stared wildly about him he heard the woman's voice
+      again, and sprang up; but Helen, terrified at his suffering, caught him by
+      the arm, whispering, &ldquo;No, no, David, let me go in, I can take care of
+      her.&rdquo; And she forced her husband down on the sofa once more, and then ran
+      into the next room. She found the woman again struggling to raise herself
+      upon her trembling arms, staring about her and calling out incoherently.
+      Helen rushed to her and took her hands in hers, trying to soothe her
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the woman staggered to her feet, oblivious of everything about her.
+      &ldquo;Where is he? Where is he?&rdquo; she gasped hoarsely; &ldquo;he will come back!&rdquo; She
+      began calling David's name, and a moment later, as Helen tried to keep her
+      quiet, she tore her hands loose and rushed blindly across the room,
+      shrieking louder yet, &ldquo;David, where are you? Don't you know me, David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Helen turned she saw that her husband had heard the cries and come to
+      the doorway again; but it was all in vain, for the woman, though she
+      looked at him, knew him no more; it was to a phantom of her own brain that
+      she was calling, in the meantime pacing up and down, her voice rising
+      higher and higher. She was reeling this way and that, and Helen,
+      frightened at her violence, strove to restrain her, only to be flung off
+      as if she had been a child; the woman rushed on, groping about her blindly
+      and crying still, &ldquo;David! Tell me where is David!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then as David and Helen stood watching her in helpless misery her
+      delirious mood changed, and she clutched her hands over her bosom, and
+      shuddered, and moaned to herself, &ldquo;It is cold, oh, it is cold!&rdquo; Afterwards
+      she burst into frantic sobbing, that choked her and shook all her frame;
+      and again into wild peals of laughter; and then last of all she stopped
+      and sprang back, staring in front of her with her whole face a picture of
+      agonizing fright; she gave one wild scream after another and staggered and
+      sank down at last upon the floor. &ldquo;Oh, it is he, it is he!&rdquo; she cried, her
+      voice sinking into a shudder; &ldquo;oh, spare me,&mdash;why should you beat me?
+      Oh God, have mercy&mdash;have mercy!&rdquo; Her cries rose again into a shriek
+      that made Helen's blood run cold; she looked in terror at her husband, and
+      saw that his face was white; in the meantime the wretched woman had flung
+      herself down prostrate upon the floor, where she lay groveling and
+      writhing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That again, however, was only for a minute or two; she staggered up once
+      more and rushed blindly across the room, crying, &ldquo;I cannot bear it, I
+      cannot bear it! Oh, what have I done?&rdquo; Then suddenly as she flung up her
+      arms imploringly and staggered blindly on, she lurched forward and fell,
+      striking her head against the corner of the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen started forward with a cry of alarm, but before she had taken half a
+      dozen steps the woman had raised herself to her feet once more, and was
+      staring at her, blinded by the blood which poured from a cut in her
+      forehead. Her clothing was torn half from her, and her tangled hair
+      streamed from her shoulders; she was a ghastly sight to behold, as,
+      delirious with terror, she began once more rushing this way and that about
+      the room. The two who watched her were powerless to help her, and could
+      only drink in the horror of it all and shudder, as with each minute the
+      poor creature became more frantic and more desperate. All the while it was
+      evident that her strength was fast leaving her; she staggered more and
+      more, and at last she sank down upon her knees. She strove to rise again
+      and found that she could not, but lurched and fell upon the floor; as she
+      turned over and Helen saw her face, the sight was too much for the girl's
+      self-control, and she buried her face in her hands and broke into frantic
+      sobbing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      David in the meantime was crouching in the doorway, his gaze fixed upon
+      the woman; he did not seem even to notice Helen's outburst, so lost was
+      all his soul in the other sight. Fie saw that the stranger's convulsive
+      efforts were weakening, and he staggered forward with a cry, and flung
+      himself forward down on his knees beside her. &ldquo;Mary, Mary!&rdquo; he called; but
+      she did not heed him, tho he clasped her hands and shook her, gazing into
+      her face imploringly. Her eyes were fixed upon him, but it was with a
+      vacant stare; and then suddenly he started back with a cry of horror&mdash;&ldquo;Great
+      God, she is dying!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman made a sudden fearful effort to lift herself, struggling and
+      gasping, her face distorted with fierce agony; as it failed she sank back,
+      and lay panting hard for breath; then a shudder passed over her, and while
+      David still stared, transfixed, a hoarse rattle came from her throat, and
+      her features became suddenly set in their dreadful passion. In a moment
+      more all was still; and David buried his face in his hands and sank down
+      upon the corpse, without even a moan.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Afterwards, for a full minute there was not a sound in the room; Helen's
+      sobbing had ceased, she had looked up and sat staring at the two figures,&mdash;until
+      at last, with a sudden start of fright she sprang up and crept silently
+      toward them. She glanced once at the woman's body, and then bent over
+      David; as she felt that his heart was still beating, she caught him to her
+      bosom, and knelt thus in terror, staring first into his white and tortured
+      features, and then at the body on the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Finally, however, she nerved herself, and tho she was trembling and
+      exhausted, staggered to her feet with her burden; holding it tightly in
+      her arms she went step by step, slowly and in silence out of the room.
+      When she had passed into the next one she shut the door and, sinking down
+      upon the sofa, lifted David's broken figure beside her and locked it in
+      her arms and was still. Thus she sat without a sound or a motion, her
+      heart within her torn with fear and pain, all through the long hours of
+      that night; when the cold, white dawn came up, she was still pressing him
+      to her bosom, sobbing and whispering faintly, &ldquo;Oh, David! Oh, my poor,
+      poor David!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  Hast du im Venusburg geweilt, So bist nun
+  ewig du verdammt!
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then said I, 'Woe is me! For I am undone;... for mine eyes have seen the
+      King, the Lord of Hosts.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David's servant drove out early upon the following morning to tell him of
+      a strange woman who had been asking for him in the village; they sent the
+      man back for a doctor, and it was found that the poor creature was really
+      dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They wished to take the body away, but David would not have it; and so,
+      late in the afternoon, a grave was dug by the lake-shore near the little
+      cottage, and what was left of Mary was buried there. David was too
+      exhausted to leave the house, and Helen would not stir from his side, so
+      the two sat in silence until the ceremony was over, and the men had gone.
+      The servant went with them, because the girl said they wished to be alone;
+      and then the house settled down to its usual quietness,&mdash;a quietness
+      that frightened Helen now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For when she looked at her husband her heart scarcely beat for her terror;
+      he was ghastly white, and his lips were trembling, and though he had not
+      shed a tear all the day, there was a look of mournful despair on his face
+      that told more fearfully than any words how utterly the soul within him
+      was beaten and crushed. All that day he had been so, and as Helen
+      remembered the man that had been before so strong and eager and brare, her
+      whole soul stood still with awe; yet as before she could do nothing but
+      cling to him, and gaze at him with bursting heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at last when the hours had passed and not a move had been made, she
+      asked him faintly, &ldquo;David, is there no hope? Is it to be like this
+      always?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man raised his eyes and gazed at her helplessly. &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he said, his
+      voice sounding hollow and strange, &ldquo;what can you ask of me? How can I bear
+      to look about me again, how can I think of living? Oh, that night of
+      horror! Helen, it burns my brain&mdash;it tortures my soul&mdash;it will
+      drive me mad!&rdquo; He buried his face in his hands again, shaking with
+      emotion. &ldquo;Oh, I cannot ever forget it,&rdquo; he whispered hoarsely; &ldquo;it must
+      haunt me, haunt me until I die! I must know that after all my years of
+      struggle it was this that I made, it is this that stands for my life&mdash;and
+      it is over, and gone from me forever and finished! Oh, God, was there ever
+      such a horror flashed upon a guilty soul&mdash;ever such fiendish torture
+      for a man to bear? And Helen, there was a child, too&mdash;think how that
+      thought must goad me&mdash;a child of mine, and I cannot ever aid it&mdash;it
+      must suffer for its mother's shame. And think, if it were a woman, Helen&mdash;this
+      madness must go on, and go on forever! Oh, where am I to hide me; and what
+      can I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There came no tears, but only a fearful sobbing; poor Helen whispered
+      frantically, &ldquo;David, it was not your fault, you could not help it&mdash;surely
+      you cannot be to blame for all this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not answer her, but after a long silence he went on in a deep, low
+      voice, &ldquo;Helen, she was so beautiful! She has lived in my thoughts all
+      these years as the figure that I used to see, so bright and so happy; I
+      used to hear her singing in church, and the music was a kind of madness to
+      me, because I knew that she loved me. And her home was a little
+      farm-house, half buried in great trees, and I used to see her there with
+      her flowers. Now&mdash;oh, think of her now&mdash;think of her life of
+      shame and agony&mdash;think of her turned away from her home, and from all
+      she loved in the world,&mdash;deserted and scorned, and helpless&mdash;think
+      of her with child, and of the agony of her degradation! What must she not
+      have suffered to be as she was last night&mdash;oh, are there tears enough
+      in the world to pay for such a curse, for that twenty years' burden of
+      wretchedness and sin? And she was beaten&mdash;oh, she was beaten&mdash;Mary,
+      my poor, poor Mary! And to die in such horror, in drunkenness and madness!
+      And now she is gone, and it is over; and oh, why should I live, what can I
+      do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice dropped into a moan, and then again there was a long silence. At
+      last Helen whispered, in a weak, trembling voice, &ldquo;David, you have still
+      love; can that be nothing to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no right to love,&rdquo; he groaned, &ldquo;no right to love, and I never had
+      any. For oh, all my life this vision has haunted me&mdash;I knew that
+      nothing but death could have saved her from shame! Yes, and I knew, too,
+      that some day I must find her. I have carried the terror of that in my
+      heart all these years. Yet I dared to take your love, and dared to fly
+      from my sin; and then there comes this thunderbolt&mdash;oh, merciful
+      heaven, it is too much to bear, too much to bear!&rdquo; He sank down again;
+      poor Helen could find no word of comfort, no utterance of her own bursting
+      heart except the same frantic clasp of her love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the day went by over that shattered life; and each hour the man's
+      despair grew more black, his grief and misery more hopeless. The girl
+      watched him and followed him about as if she had been a child, but she
+      could get him to take no food, and to divert his mind to anything else she
+      dared not even try. He would sit for hours writhing in his torment, and
+      then again he would spring up and pace the room in agitation, though he
+      was too weak to bear that very long. Afterwards the long night came on,
+      and all through it he lay tossing and moaning, sometimes shuddering in a
+      kind of paroxysm of grief,&mdash;Helen, though she was weary and almost
+      fainting, watching thro the whole night, her heart wild with her dread.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so the morning came, and another day of misery; and in the midst of it
+      David flung himself down upon the sofa and buried his face in his arms and
+      cried out, &ldquo;Oh God, my God, I cannot stand it, I cannot stand it! Oh, let
+      me die! I dare not lift my head&mdash;there is no hope for me&mdash;there
+      is no life for me&mdash;I dare not pray! It is more than I can bear&mdash;I
+      am beaten, I am lost forever!&rdquo; And Helen fell down upon her knees beside
+      him, and tore away his hands from his face and stared at him frantically,
+      exclaiming, &ldquo;David, it is too cruel! Oh, have mercy upon me, David, if you
+      love me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped and gazed long and earnestly into her face, and a look of
+      infinite pity came into his eyes; at last he whispered, in a low voice,
+      &ldquo;Poor, poor little Helen; oh, Helen, God help you, what can I do?&rdquo; He
+      paused and afterwards went on tremblingly, &ldquo;What have you done that you
+      should suffer like this? You are right that it is too cruel&mdash;it is
+      another curse that I have to bear! For I knew that I was born to suffering&mdash;I
+      knew that my life was broken and dying&mdash;and yet I dared to take yours
+      into it! And now, what can I do to save you, Helen; can you not see that I
+      dare not live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, it is you who are killing yourself,&rdquo; the girl moaned in answer. He
+      did not reply, but there came a long, long silence, in which he seemed to
+      be sinking still deeper; and when he went on it was in a shuddering voice
+      that made Helen's heart stop. &ldquo;Oh, it is no use,&rdquo; he gasped, &ldquo;it is no
+      use! Listen, Helen, there was another secret that I kept from you, because
+      it was too fearful; but I can keep it no more, I can fight no more!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped; the girl had clutched his arm, and was staring into his face,
+      whispering his name hoarsely. At last he went on in his cruel despair, &ldquo;I
+      knew this years ago, too, and I knew that I was bringing it upon you&mdash;the
+      misery of this wretched, dying body. Oh, it hurts&mdash;it hurts now!&rdquo; And
+      he put his hand over his heart, as a look of pain came into his face. &ldquo;It
+      cannot stand much more, my heart,&rdquo; he panted; &ldquo;the time must come&mdash;they
+      told me it would come years ago! And then&mdash;and then&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man stopped, because he was looking at Helen; she had not made a
+      sound, but her face had turned so white, and her lips were trembling so
+      fearfully that he dared not go on; she gave a loud, choking cry and burst
+      out wildly, &ldquo;Oh, David&mdash;David&mdash;it is fiendish&mdash;you have no
+      right to punish me so! Oh, have mercy upon me, for you are killing me! You
+      have no right to do it, I tell you it is a crime; you promised me your
+      love, and if you loved me you would live for my sake, you would think of
+      me! A thing so cruel ought not to be&mdash;it cannot be right&mdash;God
+      could never have meant a human soul to suffer so! And there must be pardon
+      in the world, there must be light&mdash;it cannot all be torture like
+      this!&rdquo; She burst into a flood of tears and flung herself upon David's
+      bosom, sobbing again and again, &ldquo;Oh, no, no, it is too fearful, oh, save
+      me, save me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not answer her; as she looked up at him again she saw the same look
+      of fearful woe, and read the cruel fact that there was no help, that her
+      own grief and pleadings were only deepening the man's wretchedness. She
+      stared at him for a long time; and when she spoke to him again it was with
+      a sudden start, and in a strange, ghastly voice,&mdash;&ldquo;And then, David,
+      there is no God?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He trembled, but the words choked him as he tried to respond, and his head
+      dropped; then at last she heard him moan, &ldquo;Oh, how can God free my soul
+      from this madness, how can he deliver me from such a curse?&rdquo; Helen could
+      say no more&mdash;could only cling to him and sob in her fright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So the day passed away, and another night came; and still the crushed and
+      beaten soul was writhing in its misery, lost in blackness and despair; and
+      still Helen read it all in his white and tortured features, and drank the
+      full cup of his soul's fiery pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They took no heed of the time; but it was long after darkness had fallen;
+      and once when the girl had gone upstairs for a moment she heard David
+      pacing about, and then heard a stifled cry. She rushed down, and stopped
+      short in the doorway. For the man was upon his knees, his face uplifted in
+      wild entreaty. &ldquo;Oh God, oh merciful God!&rdquo; he sobbed; &ldquo;all the days of my
+      life I have sought for righteousness, labored and suffered to keep my soul
+      alive! And oh, was it all for this&mdash;was it to go down in blackness
+      and night, to die a beaten man, crushed and lost? Oh, I cannot bear it, I
+      cannot bear it! It cannot&mdash;it must not be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sank forward upon the sofa, and buried his head in his arms, and the
+      girl could hear his breathing in the stillness; at last she crept across
+      the room and knelt down beside him, and whispered softly in his ear, &ldquo;You
+      do not give me your heart any more, David?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a long time before he answered her, and then it was to moan, &ldquo;Oh,
+      Helen, my heart is broken, I can give it to no one. Once I had strength
+      and faith, and could love; but now I am lost and ruined, and there is
+      nothing that can save me. I dare not live, and I dare not die, and I know
+      not where to turn!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He started up suddenly, clasping his hands to his forehead and staggering
+      across the room, crying out, &ldquo;Oh no, it cannot be, oh, it cannot be! There
+      must be some way of finding pardon, some way of winning Tightness for a
+      soul! Oh God, what can I do for peace?&rdquo; But then again he sank down and
+      hid his face and sobbed out: &ldquo;In the face of this nightmare,&mdash;with
+      this horror fronting me! <i>She</i> cried for pardon, and none came.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After that there was a long silence, with Helen crouching in terror by his
+      side. She heard him groan: &ldquo;It is all over, it is finished&mdash;I can
+      fight no more,&rdquo; and then again came stillness, and when she lifted him and
+      gazed into his face she knew not which was worse, the silent helpless
+      despair that was upon it, or the torment and the suffering that had gone
+      before. She tried still to soothe him, begging and pleading with him to
+      have mercy upon her. He asked her faintly what he could do, and the poor
+      girl, seeing how weak and exhausted he was, could think of only the things
+      of the body, and begged him to try to rest. &ldquo;It has been two nights since
+      you have slept, David,&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot sleep with this burden upon my soul,&rdquo; he answered her; but still
+      she pleaded with him, begging him as he loved her; and he yielded to her
+      at last, and broken and helpless as he was, she half carried him upstairs
+      and laid him upon the bed as if he had been a little child. That seemed to
+      help little, however, for he only lay tossing and moaning, &ldquo;Oh, God, it
+      must end; I cannot bear it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Those were the last words Helen heard, for the poor girl was exhausted
+      herself, almost to fainting; she lay down, without undressing, and her
+      head had scarcely touched the pillow before she was asleep. In the
+      meantime, through the long night-watches David lay writhing and crying out
+      for help.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The moon rose dim and red behind the mountains,&mdash;it had mounted high
+      in the sky, and the room was bright with it, when at last the man rose
+      from the bed and began swiftly pacing the room, still muttering to
+      himself. He sank down upon his knees by the window and gazed up at the
+      silent moon. Then again he rose and turned suddenly, and after a hurried
+      glance at Helen went to the door and passed out, closing it silently
+      behind him, and whispered to himself, half deliriously, &ldquo;Oh, great God, it
+      must end! It must end!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was more than an hour afterwards that the girl awakened from her
+      troubled sleep; she lay for an instant half dazed, trying to bring back to
+      her mind what had happened; and then she put out her hand and discovered
+      that her husband was no longer by her. She sat up with a wild start, and
+      at the same instant her ear was caught by a sound outside, of footsteps
+      pacing swiftly back and forth, back and forth, upon the piazza. The girl
+      leaped up with a stifled cry, and ran out of the room and down the steps.
+      The room below was still half lighted by the flickering log-fire, and
+      Helen's shadow loomed up on the opposite wall as she rushed across the
+      room and opened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gray light of dawn was just spreading across the lake, but the girl
+      noticed only one thing, her husband's swiftly moving figure. She rushed to
+      him, and as he heard her, he turned and stared at her an instant as if
+      dazed, and then staggered with a cry into her arms. &ldquo;David, David!&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed, &ldquo;what is the matter?&rdquo; Then as she clasped him to her she found
+      that his body was trembling convulsively, and that his hand as she took it
+      was hot like fire; she called to him again in yet greater anxiety: &ldquo;David,
+      David! What is it? You will kill me if you treat me so!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He answered her weakly, &ldquo;Nothing, dear, nothing,&rdquo; and she caught him to
+      her, and turned and half carried him into the house. She staggered into a
+      chair with him, and then sat gazing in terror at his countenance. For the
+      man's forehead was burning and moist, and his frame was shaking and
+      broken; he was completely prostrated by the fearful agitation that had
+      possessed him. Helen cried to him once more, but he could only pant,
+      &ldquo;Wait, wait,&rdquo; and sink back and let his head fall upon her arm; he lay
+      with his eyes closed, breathing swiftly, and shuddering now and then. &ldquo;It
+      was God!&rdquo; he panted with a sudden start, his voice choking; &ldquo;He has shown
+      me His face! He has set me free!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then again for a long time he lay with heaving bosom, Helen whispering to
+      him pleadingly, &ldquo;David, David!&rdquo; As he opened his eyes, the girl saw a
+      wonderful look upon his face; and at last he began speaking, in a low,
+      shaking voice, and pausing often to catch his breath: &ldquo;Oh, Helen,&rdquo; he
+      said, &ldquo;it is all gone, but I won, and my life's prayer has not been for
+      nothing! I was never so lost, so beaten; but all the time there was a
+      voice in my soul that cried to me to fight,&mdash;that there was glory
+      enough in God's home for even me! And oh, to-night it came&mdash;it came!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David sank back, and there was a long silence before he went on: &ldquo;It was
+      wonderful, Helen,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;there has come nothing like it to me in
+      all my life; for I had never drunk such sorrow before, never known such
+      fearful need. It seems as if all the pent-up forces of my nature broke
+      loose in one wild, fearful surge, as if there was a force behind me like a
+      mighty, driving storm, that swept me on and away, beyond self and beyond
+      time, and out into the life of things. It was like the surging of fierce
+      music, it was the great ocean of the infinite bursting its way into my
+      heart. And it bore me on, so that I was mad with it, so that I knew not
+      where I was, only that I was panting for breath, and that I could bear it
+      no more and cried out in pain!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David as he spoke had been lifting himself, the memory of his vision
+      taking hold of him once more; but then he sank down again and whispered,
+      &ldquo;Oh, I have no more strength, I can do no more; but it was God, and I am
+      free!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lay trembling and breathing fast again, but sinking back from his
+      effort and closing his eyes exhaustedly. After a long time he went on in a
+      faint voice, &ldquo;I suppose if I had lived long ago that would have been a
+      vision of God's heaven; and yet there was not an instant of it&mdash;even
+      when I fell down upon the ground and when I struck my hands upon the
+      stones because they were numb and burning&mdash;when I did not know just
+      what it was, the surging passion of my soul flung loose at last! It was
+      like the voices of the stars and the mountains, that whisper of that which
+      is and which conquers, of That which conquers without sound or sign;
+      Helen, I thought of that wonderful testament of Pascal's that has haunted
+      me all my lifetime,&mdash;those strange, wild, gasping words of a soul
+      gone mad with awe, and beyond all utterance except a cry,&mdash;'Joy, joy,
+      tears of joy!' And I thought of a still more fearful story, I thought that
+      it must have been such thunder-music that rang through the soul of the
+      Master and swept Him away beyond scorn and pain, so that the men about Him
+      seemed like jeering phantoms that He might scatter with His hand, before
+      the glory of vision in which it was all one to live or die. Oh, it is that
+      which has brought me my peace! God needs not our help, but only our
+      worship; and beside His glory all our guilt is nothing, and there is no
+      madness like our fear. And oh, if we can only hold to that and fight for
+      it, conquer all temptation and all pain&mdash;all fear because we must
+      die, and cease to be&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man had clenched his hands again, and was lifting himself with the
+      wild look upon his countenance; he seemed to the girl to be delirious, and
+      she was shuddering, half with awe and half with terror. She interrupted
+      him in a sudden burst of alarm: &ldquo;Yes, yes,&mdash;but David, David, not
+      now, not now&mdash;it is too much&mdash;you will kill yourself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can die,&rdquo; he panted, &ldquo;I can die, but I cannot ever be mastered again,
+      never again be blind! Oh, Helen, all my life I have been lost and beaten&mdash;beaten
+      by my weakness and my fear; but this once, this once I was free, this once
+      I knew, and I lived; and now I can die rejoicing! Listen to me, Helen;
+      while I am here there can be no more delaying,&mdash;no more weakness!
+      Such sin and doubt as that of yesterday must never conquer my soul again,
+      I will not any more be at the mercy of chance. I love you, Helen, God
+      knows that I love you with all my soul; and this much for love I will do,
+      if God spares me a day,&mdash;take you, and tear the heart out of you, if
+      need be, but only teach you to live, teach you to hold by this Truth. It
+      is a fearful thing, Helen; it is madness to me to know that at any instant
+      I may cease to be, and that you may be left alone in your terror and your
+      weakness. Oh, look at me,&mdash;look at me! There is no more tempting
+      fate, there is no more shirking the battle&mdash;there is life, there is
+      life to be lived! And it calls to you now,&mdash;<i>now!</i> And now you
+      must win,&mdash;cost just what it may in blood and tears! You have the
+      choice between that and ruin, and before God you shall choose the right!
+      Listen to me, Helen&mdash;it is only prayer that can do it, it is only by
+      prayer that you can fight this fearful battle&mdash;bring before you this
+      truth of the soul, and hold on to it,&mdash;hold on to it tho it kill you!
+      For He was through all the ages, His glory is of the skies; and we are but
+      for an instant, and we have to die; and this we must know, or we are lost!
+      There comes pain, and calls you back to fear and doubt; and you fight&mdash;oh,
+      it is a cruel fight, it is like a wild beast at your vitals,&mdash;but
+      still you hold on&mdash;you hold on!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man had lifted himself with a wild effort, his hands clenched and his
+      teeth set. He had caught the girl's hands in his, and she screamed in
+      fear: &ldquo;David, David! You will kill yourself!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes!&rdquo; he answered, and rushed on, chokingly; &ldquo;it is coming just so;
+      for I have just force enough left to win&mdash;just force enough to save
+      you,&mdash;and then it will rend this frame of mine in two! It comes like
+      a clutch at my heart&mdash;it blinds me, and the sky seems to turn to fire&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sank back with a gasp; Helen caught him to her bosom, exclaiming
+      frantically, &ldquo;Oh, David, spare me&mdash;wait! Not now&mdash;you cannot
+      bear it&mdash;have mercy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lay for a long time motionless, seemingly half dazed; then he whispered
+      faintly, &ldquo;Yes, dear, yes; let us wait. But oh, if you could know the
+      terror of another defeat, of sinking down and letting one's self be bound
+      in the old chains&mdash;I must not lose, Helen, I dare not fail!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, David,&rdquo; whispered Helen, beginning suddenly with desperate
+      swiftness; &ldquo;why should you fail? Why can you not listen to me, pity me,
+      wait until you are strong? You have won, you will not forget&mdash;and is
+      there no peace, can you not rest in this faith, and fear no more?&rdquo; The man
+      seemed to Helen to be half out of his mind for the moment; she was trying
+      to manage him with a kind of frenzied cunning. As she went on whispering
+      and imploring she saw that David's exhaustion was gradually overcoming him
+      more and more, and that he was sinking farther and farther back from his
+      wild agitation. At last after she had continued thus for a while he closed
+      his eyes and began breathing softly. &ldquo;Yes, dear,&rdquo; he whispered; &ldquo;yes; I
+      will be quiet. There has come to my soul to-night a peace that is not for
+      words; I can be still, and know that He is God, and that He is holy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice dropped lower each instant, the girl in the meantime soothing
+      him and stroking his forehead and pleading with him in a shuddering voice,
+      her heart wild with fright. When at last he was quite still, and the
+      fearful vision, that had been like a nightmare to her, was gone with all
+      its storm and its madness, she took him upon her lap, just as she had done
+      before, and sat there clasping him in her arms while the time fled by
+      unheeded. It was long afterwards&mdash;the sun was gleaming across the
+      lake and in at the window&mdash;before at last her trembling prayer was
+      answered, and he sank into an exhausted slumber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat watching him for a long time still, quite white with fear and
+      weariness; finally, however, she rose, and carrying the frail body in her
+      arms, laid it quietly upon the sofa in the next room. She knelt watching
+      it for a time, then went out upon the piazza, closing the door behind her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And there the fearful tension that the dread of wakening him had put upon
+      her faculties gave way at last, and the poor girl buried her face in her
+      hands, and sank down, sobbing convulsively: &ldquo;Oh, God, oh, God, what can I
+      do, how can I bear it?&rdquo; She gazed about her wildly, exclaiming, &ldquo;I cannot
+      stand it, and there is no one to help me! What <i>can</i> I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it was the first real prayer that had ever passed Helen's lips;
+      but the burden of her sorrow was too great just then for her to bear
+      alone, even in thought. She leaned against the railing of the porch with
+      her arms stretched out before her imploringly, her face uplifted, and the
+      tears running down her cheeks; she poured out one frantic cry, the only
+      cry that she could think of:&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, God, have mercy upon me, have
+      mercy upon me! I cannot bear it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So she sobbed on, and several minutes passed, but there came to her no
+      relief; when she thought of David, of his breaking body and of his
+      struggling soul, it seemed to her as if she were caught in the grip of a
+      fiend, and that no power could save her. She could only clasp her hands
+      together and shudder, and whisper, &ldquo;What shall I do, what shall I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus it was that the time sped by; and the morning sun rose higher in
+      front of her, and shone down upon the wild and wan figure that seemed like
+      a phantom of the night. She was still crouching in the same position, her
+      mind as overwrought and hysterical as ever, when a strange and unexpected
+      event took place, one which seemed to her at first in her state of fright
+      like some delusion of her mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Except for her own emotion, and for the faint sound of the waves upon the
+      shore, everything about her had been still; her ear was suddenly caught,
+      however, by the noise of a footstep, and she turned and saw the figure of
+      a man coming down the path from the woods; she started to her feet, gazing
+      in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was broad daylight then, and Helen could see the person plainly; she
+      took only one glance, and reeled and staggered back as if it were a ghost
+      at which she was gazing. She crouched by a pillar of the porch, trembling
+      like a leaf, and scarcely able to keep her senses, leaning from side to
+      side and peering out, with her whole attitude expressive of unutterable
+      consternation, and even fright. At last when she had gazed until it was no
+      longer possible for her to think that she was the victim of madness, she
+      stared suddenly up into the air, and caught her forehead in her hands, at
+      the same time whispering to herself in an almost fainting voice: &ldquo;Great
+      heaven, what can it mean? Can it be real&mdash;can it be true? <i>It is
+      Arthur!</i>&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV
+    </h2>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  I am Merlin
+    And I am dying,
+  &ldquo;I am Merlin,
+    Who follow the Gleam.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Helen stood gazing at the figure in utter consternation for at least half
+      a minute before she could find voice; then she bent forward and called to
+      him wildly&mdash;&ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the other's turn to be startled then, and he staggered backward; as
+      he gazed up at Helen his look showed plainly that he too was half
+      convinced that he was gazing at a phantom of his own mind, and for a long
+      time he stood, pressing his hands to his heart and unable to make a sound
+      or a movement. When finally he broke the silence his voice was a hoarse
+      whisper. &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo; he panted, &ldquo;what in heaven's name are you doing here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then as the girl answered, &ldquo;This is my home, Arthur,&rdquo; he gave another
+      start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You live here with him?&rdquo; he gasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With him?&rdquo; echoed Helen in a low voice. &ldquo;With whom, Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He answered, &ldquo;With that Mr. Harrison.&rdquo; A look of amazement crossed Helen's
+      face, tho followed quickly by a gleam of comprehension. She had quite
+      forgotten that Arthur knew nothing about what she had done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I did not marry Mr. Harrison;&rdquo; then, seeing that he
+      was staring at her in still greater wonder, she went on hastily: &ldquo;It seems
+      strange to go back to those old days now; but once I meant to tell you all
+      about it, Arthur.&rdquo; She paused for a moment and then went on slowly: &ldquo;All
+      the time I was engaged to that man I was wretched; and when I saw you the
+      last time&mdash;that dreadful time by the road&mdash;it was almost more
+      than I could bear; so I took back my wicked promise of marriage and came
+      to see you and tell you all about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the girl had been speaking the other had been staring at her with a
+      look upon his face that was indescribable, a look that was more terror
+      than anything else; he had staggered back, he grasped at a tree to support
+      himself. Helen saw the look and stopped, frightened herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it, Arthur?&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;what is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You came to see me!&rdquo; the other gasped hoarsely. &ldquo;You came to see me&mdash;and
+      I&mdash;and I was gone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Arthur,&rdquo; said Helen; &ldquo;you had gone the night before, and I could not
+      find you. Then I met this man that I loved, and you wrote that you had
+      torn the thought of me from your heart; and so&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again Helen stopped, for the man had sunk backwards with a cry that made
+      her heart leap in fright. &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; she exclaimed, taking a step towards
+      him; and he answered her with a moan, stretching out his arms to her.
+      &ldquo;Great God, Helen, that letter was a lie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen stopped, rooted to the spot. &ldquo;A lie?&rdquo; she whispered faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, a lie!&rdquo; cried the other with a sudden burst of emotion, leaping up
+      and starting towards her. &ldquo;Helen, I have suffered the tortures of hell! I
+      loved you&mdash;I love you now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl sprang back, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. Half
+      instinctively she drew her light dress more tightly about her; and the
+      other saw the motion and stopped, a look of despair crossing his face. The
+      two stood thus for fully a minute, staring at each other wildly; then
+      suddenly Arthur asked: &ldquo;You love this man whom you have married? You love
+      him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl answered, &ldquo;Yes, I love him,&rdquo; and Arthur's arms dropped, and his
+      head sank forward. There was a look upon his face that tore Helen's heart
+      to see, so that for a moment or two she stood quite dazed with this new
+      terror. Then all at once, however, the old one came back to her thoughts,
+      and with a faint cry she started toward her old friend, stretching out her
+      arms to him and calling to him imploringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Arthur,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;have mercy upon me&mdash;do not frighten me any
+      more! Arthur, if you only knew what I have suffered, you would pity me,
+      you could not help it! You would not fling this burden of your misery upon
+      me too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man fixed his eyes upon her and for the first time he seemed to become
+      aware of the new Helen, the Helen who had replaced the girl he had known.
+      He read in her ghastly white face some hint of what she had been through,
+      and his own look turned quickly to one of wonder, and even awe. &ldquo;Helen,&rdquo;
+       he whispered, &ldquo;are you ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Arthur,&rdquo; she responded quickly, full of desperate hope as she saw his
+      change. &ldquo;Not ill, but oh, so frightened. I have been more wretched than
+      you can ever dream. Can you not help me, Arthur, will you not? I was
+      almost despairing, I thought that my heart would burst. Can you not be
+      unselfish?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man gazed at her at least a minute; and when he answered at last, it
+      was in a low, grave voice that was new to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will do it, Helen,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl came toward him, her voice sinking. &ldquo;We must not let him hear us,
+      Arthur,&rdquo; she whispered. Then as she gazed into his face she added
+      pathetically, &ldquo;Oh, I cannot tell you how I have wished that I might only
+      have someone to sympathize with me and help me! I can tell everything to
+      you, Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not happy with your husband?&rdquo; asked the other, in a wondering
+      tone, not able to guess what she meant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happy!&rdquo; echoed Helen. &ldquo;Arthur, he is ill, and I have been so terrified! I
+      feared that he was going to die; we have had such a dreadful sorrow.&rdquo; She
+      paused for a moment, and gazed about her swiftly, and laying her finger
+      upon her lips. &ldquo;He is asleep now,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;asleep for the first time
+      in three nights, and I was afraid that we might waken him; we must not
+      make a sound, for it is so dreadful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped, and the other asked her what was the matter. &ldquo;It was three
+      nights ago,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;and oh, we were so happy before it! But there
+      came a strange woman, a fearful creature, and she was drunk, and my
+      husband found her and brought her home. She was delirious, she died here
+      in his arms, while there was no one to help her. The dreadful thing was
+      that David had known this woman when she was a girl&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen paused again, and caught her breath, for she had been speaking very
+      swiftly, shaken by the memory of the scene; the other put in, in a low
+      tone, &ldquo;I heard all about this woman's death, Helen, and I know about her&mdash;that
+      was how I happen to be here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the girl gave a start, echoing, &ldquo;Why you happen to be here?&rdquo;
+       Afterwards she added quickly, &ldquo;Oh, I forgot to ask you about that. What do
+      you mean, Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hesitated a moment before he answered her, speaking very slowly. &ldquo;It is
+      so sad, Helen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it is almost too cruel to talk about.&rdquo; He
+      stopped again, and the girl looked at him, wondering; then he went on to
+      speak one sentence that struck her like a bolt of lightning from the sky:&mdash;&ldquo;Helen,
+      that poor woman was my mother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen staggered back, almost falling, clutching her hands to her
+      forehead, and staring, half dazed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; she panted, &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed his head sadly, answering, &ldquo;Yes, Helen, it is dreadful&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the girl leaped towards him, seizing him by the shoulders with a
+      thrilling cry; she stared into his eyes, her own glowing like fire.
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; she gasped again, &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He only looked at her wonderingly, as if thinking she was mad; until
+      suddenly she burst out frantically, &ldquo;You are David's child! You are
+      David's child!&rdquo; And then for fully half a minute the two stood staring at
+      each other, too much dazed to move or to make a sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Arthur echoed the words, scarcely audibly, &ldquo;David's child!&rdquo; and
+      added, &ldquo;David is your husband?&rdquo; As Helen whispered &ldquo;Yes&rdquo; again, they stood
+      panting for breath. It was a long time before the girl could find another
+      word to speak, except over and over, &ldquo;David's child!&rdquo; She seemed unable to
+      realize quite what it meant, she seemed unable to put the facts together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But then suddenly Arthur whispered: &ldquo;Then it was your husband who ruined
+      that woman?&rdquo; and as Helen answered &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she grasped a little of the
+      truth, and also of Arthur's thought. She ran on swiftly: &ldquo;But oh, it was
+      not his fault, he was only a boy, Arthur! And he wished to marry her, but
+      they would not let him&mdash;I must tell you about that!&rdquo; Then she stopped
+      short, however; and when she went on it was in sudden wild joy that
+      overcame all her other feelings, joy that gleamed in her face and made her
+      fling herself down upon her knees before Arthur and clutch his hands in
+      hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;it was God who sent you, Arthur,&mdash;oh, I know that
+      it was God! It is so wonderful to think of&mdash;to have come to us all in
+      a flash! And it will save David's life&mdash;it was the thought of the
+      child and the fate that it might have suffered that terrified him most of
+      all, Arthur. And now to think that it is you&mdash;oh, you! And you are
+      David's son&mdash;I cannot believe it, I cannot believe it!&rdquo; Then with a
+      wild laugh she sprang up again and turned, exclaiming, &ldquo;Oh, he will be so
+      happy,&mdash;I must tell him&mdash;we must not lose an instant!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She caught Arthur's hand again, and started towards the house; but she had
+      not taken half a dozen steps before she halted suddenly, and whispered,
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, I forgot! He is asleep, and we must not waken him now, we must
+      wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And then again the laughter broke out over her face, and she turned upon
+      him, radiant. &ldquo;It is so wonderful!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;It is so wonderful to be
+      happy, to be free once more! And after so much darkness&mdash;oh, it is
+      like coming out of prison! Arthur, dear Arthur, just think of it! And
+      David will be so glad!&rdquo; The tears started into the girl's eyes; she turned
+      away to gaze about her at the golden morning and to drink in great
+      draughts of its freshness that made her bosom heave. The life seemed to
+      have leaped back into her face all at once, and the color into her cheeks,
+      and she was more beautiful than ever. &ldquo;To think of being happy!&rdquo; she
+      panted, &ldquo;happy again! Oh, if I were not afraid of waking David, you do not
+      know how happy I could be! Don't you think I ought to waken him anyway,
+      Arthur?&mdash;it is so wonderful&mdash;it will make him strong again! It
+      is so beautiful that you, whom I have always been so fond of, that you
+      should be David's son! And you can live here and be happy with us! Arthur,
+      do you know I used to think how much like David you looked, and wonder at
+      it; but, oh, are you sure it is true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She chanced to think of the letter that had been left at her father's, and
+      exclaimed, &ldquo;It must have been that! You have been home, Arthur?&rdquo; she added
+      quickly. &ldquo;And while father was up here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I wanted to see your father&mdash;I could not stay away
+      from home any longer. I was so very lonely and unhappy&mdash;&rdquo; Arthur
+      stopped for a moment, and the girl paled slightly; as he saw it he
+      continued rapidly: &ldquo;There was no one there but the servant, and she gave
+      me the letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And did she not tell you about me?&rdquo; asked Helen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I asked if you were married,&rdquo; Arthur said; &ldquo;I would not listen to any
+      more, for I could not bear it; when I had read the letter I came up here
+      to look for my poor mother. I wanted to see her; I was as lonely as she
+      ever was, and I wanted someone's sympathy&mdash;even that poor, beaten
+      soul's. I heard in the town that she was dead; they told me where the
+      grave was, and that was how I happened out here. I thought I would see it
+      once before I left, and before the people who lived in this house were
+      awake. Helen, when I saw <i>you</i> I thought it was a ghost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is wonderful, Arthur,&rdquo; whispered the girl; &ldquo;it is almost too much to
+      believe&mdash;but, oh, I can't think of anything except how happy it will
+      make David! I love him so, Arthur&mdash;and you will love him, too, you
+      cannot help but love him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me about it all, Helen,&rdquo; the other answered; &ldquo;I heard nothing, you
+      know, about my poor mother's story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before Helen answered the question she glanced about her at the morning
+      landscape, and for the first time thought of the fact that it was cold.
+      &ldquo;Let us go inside,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;we can sit there and talk until David
+      wakens.&rdquo; And the two stole in, Helen opening the door very softly. David
+      was sleeping in the next room, so that it was possible not to disturb him;
+      the two sat down before the flickering fire and conversed in low whispers.
+      The girl told him the story of David's love, and told him all about David,
+      and Arthur in turn told her how he had been living in the meantime; only
+      because he saw how suddenly happy she was, and withal how nervous and
+      overwrought, he said no more of his sufferings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Helen had forgotten them utterly; it was pathetic to see her delight
+      as she thought of being freed from the fearful terror that had haunted
+      her,&mdash;she was like a little child in her relief. &ldquo;He will be so happy&mdash;he
+      will be so happy!&rdquo; she whispered again and again. &ldquo;We can all be so
+      happy!&rdquo; The thought that Arthur was actually David's son was so wonderful
+      that she seemed never to be able to realize it fully, and every time she
+      uttered the thought it was a sweep of the wings of her soul. Arthur had to
+      tell her many times that it was actually Mary who had been named in that
+      letter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So an hour or two passed by, and still David did not waken. Helen had
+      crept to the door once or twice to listen to his quiet breathing; but each
+      time, thinking of his long trial, she had whispered that she could not
+      bear to disturb him yet. However, she was getting more and more impatient,
+      and she asked Arthur again and again, &ldquo;Don't you think I ought to wake him
+      now, don't you think so&mdash;even if it is just for a minute, you know?
+      For oh, he will be so glad&mdash;it will be like waking up in heaven!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So it went on until at last she could keep the secret no longer; she
+      thought for a while, and then whispered, &ldquo;I know what I will do&mdash;I
+      will play some music and waken him in that way. That will not alarm him,
+      and it will be beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went to the piano and sat down. &ldquo;It will seem queer to be playing
+      music at this hour,&rdquo; she whispered; but then she glanced at the clock and
+      saw that it was nearly seven, and added, &ldquo;Why, no, we have often begun by
+      this time. You know, Arthur, we used to get up wonderfully early all
+      summer, because it was so beautiful then, and we used to have music at all
+      sorts of times. Oh, you cannot dream how happy we were,&mdash;you must
+      wait until you see David, and then you will know why I love him so!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped and sat thoughtfully for a moment whispering, &ldquo;What shall I
+      play?&rdquo; Then she exclaimed, &ldquo;I know, Arthur; I will play something that he
+      loves very much&mdash;and that you used to love, too&mdash;something that
+      is very soft and low and beautiful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur had seated himself beside the piano and was gazing at her; the girl
+      sat still for a moment more, gazing ahead of her and waiting for
+      everything to be hushed. Then she began, so low as scarcely to be audible,
+      the first movement of the wonderful &ldquo;Moonlight Sonata.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As it stole upon the air and swelled louder, she smiled, because it was so
+      beautiful a way to waken David.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet there are few things in music more laden with concentrated
+      mournfulness than that sonata&mdash;with the woe that is too deep for
+      tears; as the solemn beating of it continued, in spite of themselves the
+      two found that they were hushed and silent. It brought back to Helen's
+      mind all of David's suffering&mdash;it seemed to be the very breathing of
+      his sorrow; and yet still she whispered on to herself, &ldquo;He will waken; and
+      then he will be happy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the next room David lay sleeping. At first it had been heavily, because
+      he was exhausted, and afterwards, when the stupor had passed, restlessly
+      and with pain. Then at last came the music, falling softly at first and
+      blending with his dreaming, and afterwards taking him by the hand and
+      leading him out into the land of reality, until he found himself lying and
+      listening to it. As he recollected all that had happened he gave a slight
+      start and sat up, wondering at the strangeness of Helen's playing then. He
+      raised his head, and then rose to call her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And at that instant came the blow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man suddenly gave a fearful start; he staggered back upon the sofa,
+      clutching at his side with his hand, his face turning white, and a look of
+      wild horror coming over it. For an instant he held himself up by the sofa,
+      staring around him; and then he sank back, half upon the floor, his head
+      falling backwards. And so he lay gasping, torn with agony, while the
+      fearful music trod on, the relentless throbbing of it like a hammer upon
+      his soul. Twice he strove to raise himself and failed; and twice he
+      started to cry out, and checked himself in terror; and so it went on until
+      the place of despair was reached, until there came that one note in the
+      music that is the plunge into night. Helen stopped suddenly there, and
+      everything was deathly still&mdash;except for the fearful heaving of
+      David's bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That silence lasted for several moments; Helen seemed to be waiting and
+      listening, and David's whole being was in suspense. Then suddenly he gave
+      a start, for he heard the girl coming to the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With a gasp of dread he half raised himself, grasping the sofa with his
+      knotted hands. He slid down, half crawling and half falling, into the
+      corner, where he crouched, breathless and shuddering; so he was when Helen
+      came into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not see him on the sofa, and she gave a startled cry. She wheeled
+      about and gazed around the room. &ldquo;Where can he be?&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;He is
+      not here!&rdquo; and ran out to the piazza. Then came a still more anxious call:
+      &ldquo;David! David! Where are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And in the meantime David was still crouching in the corner, his face
+      uplifted and torn with agony. He gave one fearful sob, and then he sank
+      forward; drawing himself by the sheer force of his arms he crawled again
+      into sight, and lay clinging to the sofa. Then he gave a faint gasping
+      cry, &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the girl heard it, and rushed to the door; she gave one glance at the
+      prostrate form and at the white face, and then leaped forward with a
+      shrill scream, a scream that echoed through the little house, and that
+      froze Arthur's blood. She flung herself down on her knees beside her
+      husband, crying &ldquo;David! David!&rdquo; And the man looked up at her with his
+      ghastly face and his look of terror, and panted, &ldquo;Helen&mdash;Helen, it
+      has come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She screamed again more wildly than before, and caught him to her bosom in
+      frenzy. &ldquo;No, no, David! No, no!&rdquo; she cried out; but he only whispered
+      hoarsely again, &ldquo;It has come!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile Arthur had rushed into the room, and the two lifted the sufferer
+      up to the sofa, where he sank back and lay for a moment or two, half
+      dazed; then, in answer to poor Helen's agonized pleading, he gazed at her
+      once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David, David!&rdquo; she sobbed, choking; &ldquo;listen to me; it cannot be, David,
+      no, no! And see, here is Arthur&mdash;Arthur! And David&mdash;he is your
+      son, he is Mary's child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man gave a faint start and looked at her in bewilderment; then as she
+      repeated the words again, &ldquo;He is your son, he is Mary's child,&rdquo; gradually
+      a look of wondering realization crossed his countenance, and he turned and
+      stared up at Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it true?&rdquo; he whispered hoarsely. &ldquo;There is no doubt?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen answered him &ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; again and again, swiftly and desperately,
+      as if thinking that the joy of it would restore his waning strength. The
+      thought did bring a wonderful look of peace over David's face, as he gazed
+      from one to the other and comprehended it all; he caught Arthur's arm in
+      his trembling hands. &ldquo;Oh, God be praised,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;it is almost too
+      much. Oh, take care of her&mdash;take care of her for me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl flung herself upon his bosom, sobbing madly; and David sank back
+      and lay for an instant or two with his eyes shut, before at last her
+      suffering roused him again. He lifted himself up on his elbows with a
+      fearful effort. &ldquo;Helen!&rdquo; he whispered, in a deep, hollow voice; &ldquo;listen to
+      me&mdash;listen to me!&mdash;I have only a minute more to speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl buried her head in his bosom with another cry, but he shook her
+      back and caught her by the wrists, at the same time sitting erect, a
+      strain that made the veins in his temples start out. &ldquo;Look at me!&rdquo; he
+      gasped. &ldquo;Look at me!&rdquo; and as the girl stared into his eyes that were alive
+      with the last frenzied effort of his soul, he went on, speaking with
+      fierce swiftness and panting for breath between each phrase:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Helen&mdash;Helen&mdash;listen to me&mdash;twenty years I have kept
+      myself alive on earth by such a struggle&mdash;by the power of a will that
+      would not yield! And now there is but an instant more&mdash;an instant&mdash;I
+      cannot bear it&mdash;except to save your soul! For I am going&mdash;do you
+      hear me&mdash;going! And you must stay,&mdash;and you have the battle for
+      your life to fight! Listen to me&mdash;look into my eyes,&mdash;for you
+      must call up your powers&mdash;<i>now</i>&mdash;now before it is too late!
+      You cannot shirk it&mdash;do you hear me? It is here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And as the man was speaking the frenzied words the look of a tiger had
+      come into his face; his eyes were starting from his head, and he held
+      Helen's wrists in a grip that turned them black, tho then she did not feel
+      the pain. She was gazing into his face, convulsed with fright; and the man
+      gasped for breath once more, and then rushed on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A fight like this conies once to a soul, Helen&mdash;and it wins or it
+      loses&mdash;and you must win! Do you hear me?&mdash;<i>Win!</i> I am
+      dying, Helen, I am going&mdash;and I leave you to God, and to life. He is,
+      He made you, and He demands your worship and your faith&mdash;that you
+      hold your soul lord of all chances, that you make yourself master of your
+      life! And now is your call&mdash;now! You clench your hands and you pray&mdash;it
+      tears your heart-strings, and it bursts your brain&mdash;but you say that
+      you will&mdash;that you will&mdash;that you <i>will!</i> Oh, God, that I
+      have left you so helpless&mdash;that I did not show you the peril of your
+      soul! For you <i>must</i> win&mdash;oh, if I could but find a word for
+      you! For you stand upon the brink of ruin, and you have but an instant&mdash;but
+      an instant to save yourself&mdash;to call up the vision of your faith
+      before you, and tho the effort kill you, not to let it go! Girl, if you
+      fail, no power of earth or heaven can save you from despair! And oh, have
+      I lived with you for nothing&mdash;showed you no faith&mdash;given you no
+      power? Helen, save me&mdash;have mercy upon me, I cannot stand this, and I
+      dare not&mdash;I dare not die!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man was leaning forward, gazing into the girl's face, his own
+      countenance fearful to see. &ldquo;I could die,&rdquo; he gasped; &ldquo;I could die with a
+      song&mdash;He has shown me His face&mdash;and He is good! But I dare not
+      leave you&mdash;you&mdash;and I am going! Helen! Helen!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man's fearful force seemed to have been acting upon the girl like
+      magnetism, for tho the look of wild suffering had not left her face, she
+      had raised herself and was staring into his burning eyes; then suddenly,
+      with an effort that shook her frame she clenched her hands and gave a gasp
+      for breath, and panted, scarcely audibly: &ldquo;What&mdash;can&mdash;I&mdash;do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      David's head had sunk, but he mastered himself once more; and he
+      whispered, &ldquo;I leave you to God&mdash;I leave you to life! You can be a
+      soul,&mdash;you can win&mdash;you <i>must</i> win, you must <i>live</i>&mdash;and
+      worship&mdash;and rejoice! You must kneel here&mdash;here, while I am
+      going, never more to return; and you must know that you can never see me
+      again, that I shall no longer exist; and you must cling to your faith in
+      the God who made you, and praise Him for all that He does! And you will
+      not shed a tear&mdash;not a tear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And his grip tightened yet more desperately; he stared in one last wild
+      appeal, and gasped again, &ldquo;Promise me&mdash;not a tear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And again the throbbing force of his soul roused the girl; she could not
+      speak, she was choking; but she gave a sign of assent, and then all at
+      once David's fearful hold relaxed. He gave one look more, one that stamped
+      itself upon Helen's soul forever by its fearful intensity of yearning; and
+      after it he breathed a sigh that seemed to pant out the last mite of
+      strength in his frame, and sank backwards upon the sofa, with Helen still
+      clinging to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There for an instant or two he lay, breathing feebly; and the girl heard a
+      faint whisper again&mdash;&ldquo;Not a tear&mdash;not a tear!&rdquo; He opened his
+      eyes once more and gazed at her dimly, and then a slight trembling shook
+      his frame. His chest heaved once more and sank, and after it everything
+      was still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For an instant Helen stared at him, dazed; then she clutched him by the
+      shoulders, whispering hoarsely-then calling louder and louder in frenzied
+      terror, &ldquo;David, David!&rdquo; He gave no answer, and with a cry that was fearful
+      to hear the girl clutched him to her. The body was limp and lifeless&mdash;the
+      head fell forward as if the neck were broken; and Helen staggered backward
+      with a scream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There came an instant of fierce agony then; she stood in the center of the
+      room, reeling and swaying, clutching her head in her hands, her face
+      upturned and tortured. And first she gasped, &ldquo;He is dead!&rdquo; and then &ldquo;I
+      shall not ever see him again!&rdquo; And she choked and swallowed a lump in her
+      throat, whispering in awful terror, &ldquo;Not a tear&mdash;not a tear!&rdquo; And
+      then she flung up her arms and sank forward with an incoherent cry, and
+      fell senseless into Arthur's arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A week had passed since David's death; and Helen was in her father's home
+      once more, sitting by the window in the gathering twilight. She was yery
+      pale, and her eyes were sunken and hollow; but the beauty of her face was
+      still there, tho in a strange and terrible way. Her hand was resting upon
+      Arthur's, and she was gazing into his eyes and speaking in a deep, solemn
+      voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will not ever leave me, Arthur, I know it will not ever leave me; it
+      is like a fearful vision that haunts me night and day, a voice that cries
+      out in my soul and will not let me rest; and I know I shall never again be
+      able to live like other people, never be free from its madness. For oh, I
+      do not think it is often that a human soul sees what I saw&mdash;he seemed
+      to drag me out into the land of death with him, into the very
+      dwelling-place of God. And I almost went with him, Arthur, almost! Can you
+      dream what I suffered&mdash;have you any idea of what it means to a human
+      being to make such an effort? I loved that man as if he had been my own
+      soul; I was bound to him so that he was all my life, and to have him go
+      was like tearing my heart in two; and he had told me that I should never
+      see him again, that there was nothing to look for beyond death. And yet,
+      Arthur, I won&mdash;do you ever realize it?&mdash;I won. It seemed to me
+      as if the earth were reeling about me&mdash;as if the very air I breathed
+      were fire; and oh, I thought that he was dead&mdash;that he was gone from
+      me forever, and I believed that I was going mad! And then, Arthur, those
+      awful words of his came ringing through my mind, 'Not a tear, not a tear!'
+      I had no faith, I could see nothing but that the world was black with
+      horror; and yet I heard those words! It was love&mdash;it was even fear, I
+      think, that held me to it; I had worshiped his sacredness, I had given all
+      my soul to the wonder of his soul; and I dared not be false to him&mdash;I
+      dared not dishonor him,&mdash;and I knew that he had told me that grief
+      was a crime, that there was truth in the world that I might cling to. And
+      oh, Arthur, I won it&mdash;I won it! I kept the faith&mdash;David's faith;
+      and it is still alive upon the earth. It seems to me almost as if I had
+      won his soul from death&mdash;as if I had saved his spirit in mine-as if I
+      could still rejoice in his life, still have his power and his love; and
+      there is a kind of fearful consecration in my heart, a glory that I am
+      afraid to know of, as if God's hand had been laid upon me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;David used to tell me, Arthur, that if only that power is roused in a
+      soul, if only it dwells in that sacredness, there can no longer be fear or
+      evil in its life; that the strife and the vanity and the misery in this
+      cruel world about us come from nothing else but that men do not know this
+      vision, that it is so hard&mdash;so dreadfully hard&mdash;to win. And he
+      used to say that this power is infinite, that it depends only upon how
+      much one wants it; and that he who possessed it had the gift of King
+      Midas, and turned all things that he touched to gold. That is real madness
+      to me, Arthur, and will not let me be still; and yet I know that it cannot
+      ever die in me; for whenever there is an instant's weakness there flashes
+      over me again the fearful thought of David, that he is gone back into
+      nothingness, that nowhere can I ever see him, ever hear his voice or speak
+      to him again,-that I am alone-alone! And that makes me clench my hands and
+      nerve my soul, and fight again, and still again! Arthur, I did that for
+      days, and did not once know why-only because David had told me to, because
+      I was filled with a fearful terror of proving a coward soul, because I had
+      heard him say that if one only held the faith and prayed, the word would
+      come to him at last. And it was true&mdash;it was true, Arthur; it was
+      like the tearing apart of the skies, it was as if I had rent my way
+      through them. I saw, as I had never dreamed I could see when I heard David
+      speak of it, how God's Presence is infinite and real; how it guides the
+      blazing stars, and how our life is but an instant and is nothing beside
+      it; and how it makes no difference that we pass into nothingness&mdash;His
+      glory is still the same. Then I saw too what a victory I had won, Arthur,&mdash;how
+      I could live in it, and how I was free, and master of my life; there came
+      over me a feeling for which there is no word, a kind of demon force that
+      was madness. I thought of that wonderful sixth chapter of Isaiah that
+      David used to think so much beyond reading, that he used to call the
+      artist's chapter; and oh, I knew just what it was that I had to do in the
+      world!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen had been speaking very intensely, her voice shaking; the other's
+      gaze was riveted upon her face. &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; she added, her voice sinking to
+      a whisper, &ldquo;I have no art, but you have; and we must fight together for
+      this fearful glory, we must win this prize of God.&rdquo; And for a long time
+      the two sat in silence, trembling, while the darkness gathered about them.
+      Helen had turned her head, and gazed out, with face uplifted, at the
+      starry shield that quivered and shook above them; suddenly Arthur saw her
+      lips moving again, and heard her speaking the wonderful words that she had
+      referred to,&mdash;her voice growing more and more intense, and sinking
+      into a whisper of awe:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the year that King Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a
+      throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he
+      covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he
+      did fly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of
+      hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the
+      house was filled with smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean
+      lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes
+      have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a living coal in his hand,
+      which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips;
+      and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Also I heard the Voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who
+      will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <h3>
+      THE END
+    </h3>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of King Midas, by Upton Sinclair
+
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+</pre>
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+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/4923.txt b/4923.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..781cd0c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/4923.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11536 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of King Midas, by Upton Sinclair
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: King Midas
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+
+
+Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4923]
+This file was first posted on March 27, 2002
+Last Updated: April 27, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KING MIDAS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+KING MIDAS
+
+A ROMANCE
+
+By Upton Sinclair
+
+
+  I dreamed that Soul might dare the pain,
+    Unlike the prince of old,
+  And wrest from heaven the fiery touch
+    That turns all things to gold.
+
+
+New York and London
+
+1901
+
+
+
+NOTE
+
+
+In the course of this story, the author has had occasion to refer to
+Beethoven's Sonata Appassionata as containing a suggestion of the
+opening theme of the Fifth Symphony. He has often seen this stated,
+and believed that the statement was generally accepted as true.
+Since writing, however, he has heard the opinion expressed, by a
+musician who is qualified to speak as an authority, that the two
+themes have nothing to do with each other. The author himself is not
+competent to have an opinion on the subject, but because the
+statement as first made is closely bound up with the story, he has
+allowed it to stand unaltered.
+
+The two extracts from MacDowell's "Woodland Sketches," on pages 214
+and 291, are reprinted with the kind permission of Professor
+MacDowell and of Arthur P. Schmidt, publisher.
+
+
+
+
+PART I
+
+
+In the merry month of May.
+
+
+KING MIDAS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+  "O Madchen, Madchen,
+  Wie lieb' ich dich!"
+
+It was that time of year when all the world belongs to poets, for
+their harvest of joy; when those who seek the country not for
+beauty, but for coolness, have as yet thought nothing about it, and
+when those who dwell in it all the time are too busy planting for
+another harvest to have any thought of poets; so that the latter,
+and the few others who keep something in their hearts to chime with
+the great spring-music, have the woods and waters all for their own
+for two joyful months, from the time that the first snowy bloodroot
+has blossomed, until the wild rose has faded and nature has no more
+to say. In those two months there are two weeks, the ones that usher
+in the May, that bear the prize of all the year for glory; the
+commonest trees wear green and silver then that would outshine a
+coronation robe, and if a man has any of that prodigality of spirit
+which makes imagination, he may hear the song of all the world.
+
+It was on such a May morning in the midst of a great forest of pine
+trees, one of those forests whose floors are moss-covered ruins that
+give to them the solemnity of age and demand humility from those who
+walk within their silences. There was not much there to tell of the
+springtime, for the pines are unsympathetic, but it seemed as if all
+the more wealth had been flung about on the carpeting beneath. Where
+the moss was not were flowing beds of fern, and the ground was
+dotted with slender harebells and the dusty, half-blossomed
+corydalis, while from all the rocks the bright red lanterns of the
+columbine were dangling.
+
+Of the beauty so wonderfully squandered there was but one witness, a
+young man who was walking slowly along, stepping as it seemed where
+there were no flowers; and who, whenever he stopped to gaze at a
+group of them, left them unmolested in their happiness. He was tall
+and slenderly built, with a pale face shadowed by dark hair; he was
+clad in black, and carried in one hand a half-open book, which,
+however, he seemed to have forgotten.
+
+A short distance ahead was a path, scarcely marked except where the
+half-rotted trees were trodden through. Down this the young man
+turned, and a while later, as his ear was caught by the sound of
+falling water, he quickened his steps a trifle, until he came to a
+little streamlet which flowed through the forest, taking for its bed
+the fairest spot in that wonderland of beauty. It fled from rock to
+rock covered with the brightest of bright green moss and with tender
+fern that was but half uncurled, and it flashed in the sunlit places
+and tinkled from the deep black shadows, ever racing faster as if to
+see what more the forest had to show. The young man's look had been
+anxious before, but he brightened in spite of himself in the company
+of the streamlet.
+
+Not far beyond was a place where a tiny rill flowed down from the
+high rocks above, and where the path broadened out considerably. It
+was a darkly shadowed spot, and the little rill was gathered in a
+sunken barrel, which the genius of the place had made haste to cover
+with the green uniform worn by all else that was to be seen. Beside
+the spring thus formed the young man seated himself, and after
+glancing impatiently at his watch, turned his gaze upon the beauty
+that was about him. Upon the neighboring rocks the columbine and
+harebell held high revel, but he did not notice them so much as a
+new sight that flashed upon his eye; for the pool where the two
+streamlets joined was like a nest which the marsh-marigold had taken
+for its home. The water was covered with its bright green and
+yellow, and the young man gazed at the blossoms with eager delight,
+until finally he knelt and plucked a few of them, which he laid,
+cool and gleaming, upon the seat by the spring.
+
+The flowers did not hold his attention very long, however; he rose
+up and turned away towards where, a few steps beyond, the open
+country could be seen between the tree trunks. Beyond the edge of
+the woods was a field, through which the footpath and the streamlet
+both ran, the former to join a road leading to a little town which
+lay in the distance. The landscape was beautiful in its morning
+freshness, but it was not that which the young man thought of; he
+had given but one glance before he started back with a slight
+exclamation, his face turning paler. He stepped into the concealment
+of the thick bushes at one side, where he stood gazing out,
+motionless except for a slight trembling. Down the road he had seen
+a white-clad figure just coming out of the village; it was too far
+away to be recognized, but it was a young girl, walking with a quick
+and springing step, and he seemed to know who it was.
+
+She had not gone very far before she came to a thick hedge which
+lined the roadside and hid her from the other's view; he could not
+see her again until she came to the place where the streamlet was
+crossed by a bridge, and where the little path turned off towards
+the forest. In the meantime he stood waiting anxiously; for when she
+reached there he would see her plainly for the first time, and also
+know if she were coming to the spring. She must have stopped to look
+at something, for the other had almost started from his hiding place
+in his eagerness when finally she swept past the bushes. She turned
+down the path straight towards him, and he clasped his hands
+together in delight as he gazed at her.
+
+And truly she was a very vision of the springtime, as she passed
+down the meadows that were gleaming with their first sprinkling of
+buttercups. She was clad in a dress of snowy white, which the wind
+swept before her as she walked; and it had stolen one strand of her
+golden hair to toss about and play with. She came with all the
+eagerness and spring of the brooklet that danced beside her, her
+cheeks glowing with health and filled with the laughter of the
+morning. Surely, of all the flowers of the May-time there is none so
+fair as the maiden. And the young man thought as he stood watching
+her that in all the world there was no maiden so fair as this.
+
+She did not see him, for her eyes were lifted to a little bobolink
+that had come flying down the wind. One does not hear the bobolink
+at his best unless one goes to hear him; for sheer glorified
+happiness there is in all our land no bird like him at the hour of
+sunrise, when he is drunk with the morning breeze and the sight of
+the dew-filled roses. At present a shower had just passed and the
+bobolink may have thought that another dawn had come; or perhaps he
+saw the maiden. At any rate, he perched himself upon the topmost
+leaf of the maple tree, still half-flying, as if scorning even that
+much support; and there he sang his song. First he gave his long
+prelude that one does not often hear--a few notes a score of times
+repeated, and growing swift and loud, and more and more strenuous
+and insistent; as sometimes the orchestra builds up its climax, so
+that the listener holds his breath and waits for something, he knows
+not what. Then he paused a moment and turned his head to see if the
+girl were watching, and filled his throat and poured out his
+wonderful gushing music, with its watery and bell-like tone that
+only the streamlet can echo, from its secret places underneath the
+banks. Again and again he gave it forth, the white patches on his
+wings flashing in the sunlight and both himself and his song one
+thrill of joy.
+
+The girl's face was lit up with delight as she tripped down the
+meadow path. A gust of wind came up behind her, and bowed the grass
+and the flowers before her and swung the bird upon the tree; and so
+light was the girl's step that it seemed to lift her and sweep her
+onward. As it grew stronger she stretched out her arms to it and
+half leaned upon it and flung her head back for the very fullness of
+her happiness. The wind tossed her skirts about her, and stole
+another tress of hair, and swung the lily which she had plucked and
+which she carried in her hand. It is only when one has heard much
+music that he understands the morning wind, and knows that it is a
+living thing about which he can say such things as that; one needs
+only to train his ear and he can hear its footsteps upon the
+meadows, and hear it calling to him from the tops of the trees.
+
+The girl was the very spirit of the wind at that moment, and she
+seemed to feel that some music was needed. She glanced up again at
+the bobolink, who had ceased his song; she nodded to him once as if
+for a challenge, and then, still leaning back upon the breeze, and
+keeping time with the flower in her hand, she broke out into a happy
+song:
+
+  "I heard a streamlet gushing
+    From out its rocky bed,
+  Far down the valley rushing,
+    So fresh and clear it sped."
+
+But then, as if even Schubert were not equal to the fullness of her
+heart, or because the language of joy has no words, she left the
+song unfinished and swept on in a wild carol that rose and swelled
+and made the forest echo. The bobolink listened and then flew on to
+listen again, while still the girl poured out her breathless music,
+a mad volley of soaring melody; it seemed fairly to lift her from
+her feet, and she was half dancing as she went. There came another
+gust of wind and took her in its arms; and the streamlet fled before
+her; and thus the three, in one wild burst of happiness, swept into
+the woodland together.
+
+There in its shadows the girl stopped short, her song cut in half by
+the sight of the old forest in its majesty. One could not have
+imagined a greater contrast than the darkness and silence which
+dwelt beneath the vast canopy, and she gazed about her in rapture,
+first at the trees and then at the royal carpet of green, starred
+with its fields of flowers. Her breast heaved, and she stretched out
+her arms as if she would have clasped it all to her.
+
+"Oh, it is so beautiful!" she cried aloud. "It is so beautiful!"
+
+In the meantime the young man, still unseen, had been standing in
+the shadow of the bushes, drinking in the sight. The landscape and
+the figure and the song had all faded from his thoughts, or rather
+blended themselves as a halo about one thing, the face of this girl.
+For it was one of those faces that a man may see once in a lifetime
+and keep as a haunting memory ever afterwards, as a vision of the
+sweetness and glory of woman; at this moment it was a face
+transfigured with rapture, and the man who was gazing upon it was
+trembling, and scarcely aware of where he was.
+
+For fully a minute more the girl stood motionless, gazing about at
+the forest; then she chanced to look towards the spring, where she
+saw the flowers upon the seat.
+
+"Why, someone has left a nosegay!" she exclaimed, as she started
+forward; but that seemed to suggest another thought to her, and she
+looked around. As she did so she caught sight of the young man and
+sprang towards him. "Why, Arthur! You here!" she cried.
+
+The other started forward as if he would have clasped her in his
+arms; but then recollecting himself he came forward very slowly,
+half lowering his eyes before the girl's beauty.
+
+"So you recollect me, Helen, do you?" he said, in a low voice.
+
+"Recollect you?" was the answer. "Why, you dear, foolish boy, of
+course I recollect you. But how in the world do you come to be
+here?"
+
+"I came here to see you, Helen."
+
+"To see me?" exclaimed she. "But pray how--" and then she stopped,
+and a look of delight swept across her face. "You mean that you knew
+I would come here the first thing?"
+
+"I do indeed."
+
+"Why, that was beautiful!" she exclaimed. "I am so glad I did come."
+
+The glance which she gave made his heart leap up; for a moment or
+two they were silent, looking at each other, and then suddenly
+another thought struck the girl. "Arthur," she cried, "I forgot! Do
+you mean to tell me that you have come all the way from Hilltown?"
+
+"Yes, Helen."
+
+"And just to see me?"
+
+"Yes, Helen."
+
+"And this morning?"
+
+She received the same answer again. "It is twelve miles," she
+exclaimed; "who ever heard of such a thing? You must be tired to
+death."
+
+She put out her hand, which he took tremblingly.
+
+"Let us go sit down on the bench," she said, "and then we can talk
+about things. I am perfectly delighted that you came," she added
+when she had seated herself, with the marigolds and the lily in her
+lap. "It will seem just like old times; just think how long ago it
+was that I saw you last, Arthur,--three whole years! And do you
+know, as I left the town I thought of you, and that I might find you
+here."
+
+The young man's face flushed with pleasure.
+
+"But I'd forgotten you since!" went on the girl, eyeing him
+mischievously; "for oh, I was so happy, coming down the old, old
+path, and seeing all the old sights! Things haven't changed a bit,
+Arthur; the woods look exactly the same, and the bridge hasn't
+altered a mite since the days we used to sit on the edge and let our
+feet hang in. Do you remember that, Arthur?"
+
+"Perfectly," was the answer.
+
+"And that was over a dozen years ago! How old are you now,
+Arthur,--twenty-one--no, twenty-two; and I am just nineteen. To-day
+is my birthday, you know!"
+
+"I had not forgotten it, Helen."
+
+"You came to welcome me! And so did everything else. Do you know, I
+don't think I'd ever been so happy in my life as I was just now. For
+I thought the old trees greeted me, and the bridge, and the stream!
+And I'm sure that was the same bobolink! They don't have any
+bobolinks in Germany, and so that one was the first I have heard in
+three years. You heard him, didn't you, Arthur?"
+
+"I did--at first," said Arthur.
+
+"And then you heard me, you wicked boy! You heard me come in here
+singing and talking to myself like a mad creature! I don't think I
+ever felt so like singing before; they make hard work out of singing
+and everything else in Germany, you know, so I never sang out of
+business hours; but I believe I could sing all day now, because I'm
+so happy."
+
+"Go on," said the other, seriously; "I could listen."
+
+"No; I want to talk to you just now," said Helen. "You should have
+kept yourself hidden and then you'd have heard all sorts of
+wonderful things that you'll never have another chance to hear. For
+I was just going to make a speech to the forest, and I think I
+should have kissed each one of the flowers. You might have put it
+all into a poem,--for oh, father tells me you're going to be a great
+poet!"
+
+"I'm going to try," said Arthur, blushing.
+
+"Just think how romantic that would be!" the girl laughed; "and I
+could write your memoir and tell all I knew about you. Tell me about
+yourself, Arthur--I don't mean for the memoir, but because I want to
+know the news."
+
+"There isn't any, Helen, except that I finished college last spring,
+as I wrote you, and I'm teaching school at Hilltown."
+
+"And you like it?"
+
+"I hate it; but I have to keep alive, to try to be a poet. And that
+is the news about myself."
+
+"Except," added Helen, "that you walked twelve miles this glorious
+Saturday morning to welcome me home, which was beautiful. And of
+course you'll stay over Sunday, now you're here; I can invite you
+myself, you know, for I've come home to take the reins of
+government. You never saw such a sight in your life as my poor
+father has made of our house; he's got the parlor all full of those
+horrible theological works of his, just as if God had never made
+anything beautiful! And since I've been away that dreadful Mrs. Dale
+has gotten complete charge of the church, and she's one of those
+creatures that wouldn't allow you to burn a candle in the organ
+loft; and father never was of any use for quarreling about things."
+(Helen's father, the Reverend Austin Davis, was the rector of the
+little Episcopal church in the town of Oakdale just across the
+fields.) "I only arrived last night," the girl prattled on, venting
+her happiness in that way instead of singing; "but I hunted up two
+tallow candles in the attic, and you shall see them in church
+to-morrow. If there's any complaint about the smell, I'll tell Mrs.
+Dale we ought to have incense, and she'll get so excited about that
+that I'll carry the candles by default. I'm going to institute other
+reforms also,--I'm going to make the choir sing in tune!"
+
+"If you will only sing as you were singing just now, nobody will
+hear the rest of the choir," vowed the young man, who during her
+remarks had never taken his eyes off the girl's radiant face.
+
+Helen seemed not to notice it, for she had been arranging the
+marigolds; now she was drying them with her handkerchief before
+fastening them upon her dress.
+
+"You ought to learn to sing yourself," she said while she bent her
+head down at that task. "Do you care for music any more than you
+used to?"
+
+"I think I shall care for it just as I did then," was the answer,
+"whenever you sing it."
+
+"Pooh!" said Helen, looking up from her marigolds; "the idea of a
+dumb poet anyway, a man who cannot sing his own songs! Don't you
+know that if you could sing and make yourself gloriously happy as I
+was just now, and as I mean to be some more, you could write poetry
+whenever you wish."
+
+"I can believe that," said Arthur.
+
+"Then why haven't you ever learned? Our English poets have all been
+ridiculous creatures about music, any how; I don't believe there was
+one in this century, except Browning, that really knew anything
+about it, and all their groaning and pining for inspiration was
+nothing in the world but a need of some music; I was reading the
+'Palace of Art' only the other day, and there was that 'lordly
+pleasure house' with all its modern improvements, and without a
+sound of music. Of course the poor soul had to go back to the
+suffering world, if it were only to hear a hand-organ again."
+
+"That is certainly a novel theory," admitted the young poet. "I
+shall come to you when I need inspiration."
+
+"Come and bring me your songs," added the girl, "and I will sing
+them to you. You can write me a poem about that brook, for one
+thing. I was thinking just as I came down the road that if I were a
+poet I should have beautiful things to say to that brook. Will you
+do it for me?"
+
+"I have already tried to write one," said the young man,
+hesitatingly.
+
+"A song?" asked Helen.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, good! And I shall make some music for it; will you tell it to
+me?"
+
+"When?"
+
+"Now, if you can remember it," said Helen. "Can you?"
+
+"If you wish it," said Arthur, simply; "I wrote it two or three
+months ago, when the country was different from now."
+
+He fumbled in his pocket for some papers, and then in a low tone he
+read these words to the girl:
+
+AT MIDNIGHT
+
+  The burden of the winter
+    The year haa borne too long,
+  And oh, my heart is weary
+    For a springtime song!
+
+  The moonbeams shrink unwelcomed
+    From the frozen lake;
+  Of all the forest voices
+    There is but one awake
+
+  I seek thee, happy streamlet
+    That murmurest on thy way,
+  As a child in troubled slumber
+    Still dreaming of its play;
+
+  I ask thee where in thy journey
+    Thou seeest so fair a sight,
+  That thou hast joy and singing
+    All through the winter night.
+
+Helen was silent for a few moments, then she said, "I think that is
+beautiful, Arthur; but it is not what I want."
+
+"Why not?" he asked.
+
+"I should have liked it when you wrote it, but now the spring has
+come, and we must be happy. You have heard the springtime song."
+
+"Yes," said Arthur, "and the streamlet has led me to the beautiful
+sight."
+
+"It _is_ beautiful," said Helen, gazing about her with that naive
+unconsciousness which "every wise man's son doth know" is one thing
+he may never trust in a woman. "It could not be more beautiful," she
+added, "and you must write me something about it, instead of
+wandering around our pasture-pond on winter nights till your
+imagination turns it into a frozen lake."
+
+The young poet put away his papers rather suddenly at that, and
+Helen, after gazing at him for a moment, and laughing to herself,
+sprang up from the seat.
+
+"Come!" she cried, "why are we sitting here, anyway, talking about
+all sorts of things, and forgetting the springtime altogether? I
+haven't been half as happy yet as I mean to be."
+
+She seemed to have forgotten her friend's twelve mile walk; but he
+had forgotten it too, just as he soon forgot the rather wintry
+reception of his little song. It was not possible for him to remain
+dull very long in the presence of the girl's glowing energy; for
+once upon her feet, Helen's dancing mood seemed to come back to her,
+if indeed it had ever more than half left her. The brooklet struck
+up the measure again, and the wind shook the trees far above them,
+to tell that it was still awake, and the girl was the very spirit of
+the springtime once more.
+
+"Oh, Arthur," she said as she led him down the path, "just think how
+happy I ought to be, to welcome all the old things after so long,
+and to find them all so beautiful; it is just as if the country had
+put on its finest dress to give me greeting, and I feel as if I were
+not half gay enough in return. Just think what this springtime is,
+how all over the country everything is growing and rejoicing; _that_
+is what I want you to put into the poem for me."
+
+And so she led him on into the forest, carried on by joy herself,
+and taking all things into her song. She did not notice that the
+young man's forehead was flushed, or that his hand was burning when
+she took it in hers as they walked; if she noticed it, she chose at
+any rate to pretend not to. She sang to him about the forest and the
+flowers, and some more of the merry song which she had sung before;
+then she stopped to shake her head at a saucy adder's tongue that
+thrust its yellow face up through the dead leaves at her feet, and
+to ask that wisest-looking of all flowers what secrets it knew about
+the spring-time. Later on they came to a place where the brook fled
+faster, sparkling brightly in the sunlight over its shallow bed of
+pebbles; it was only her runaway caroling that could keep pace with
+that, and so her glee mounted higher, the young man at her side half
+in a trance, watching her laughing face and drinking in the sound of
+her voice.
+
+How long that might have lasted there is no telling, had it not been
+that the woods came to an end, disclosing more open fields and a
+village beyond. "We'd better not go any farther," said Helen,
+laughing; "if any of the earth creatures should hear us carrying on
+they would not know it was 'Trunkenheit ohne Wein.'"
+
+She stretched out her hand to her companion, and led him to a seat
+upon a fallen log nearby. "Poor boy," she said, "I forgot that you
+were supposed to be tired."
+
+"It does not make any difference," was the reply; "I hadn't thought
+of it."
+
+"There's no need to walk farther," said Helen, "for I've seen all
+that I wish to see. How dear this walk ought to be to us, Arthur!"
+
+"I do not know about you, Helen," said the young man, "but it has
+been dear to me indeed. I could not tell you how many times I have
+walked over it, all alone, since you left; and I used to think about
+the many times I had walked it with you. You haven't forgotten,
+Helen, have you?"
+
+"No," said Helen.
+
+"Not one?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+The young man was resting his head upon his hand and gazing steadily
+at the girl.
+
+"Do you remember, Helen--?" He stopped; and she turned with her
+bright clear eyes and gazed into his.
+
+"Remember what?" she asked.
+
+"Do you remember the last time we took it, Helen?"
+
+She flushed a trifle, and half involuntarily turned her glance away
+again.
+
+"Do you remember?" he asked again, seeing that she was silent.
+
+"Yes, I remember," said the girl, her voice lower--"But I'd rather
+you did not--." She stopped short.
+
+"You wish to forget it, Helen?" asked Arthur.
+
+He was trembling with anxiety, and his hands, which were clasped
+about his knee, were twitching. "Oh, Helen, how can you?" he went
+on, his voice breaking. "Do you not remember the last night that we
+sat there by the spring, and you were going away, no one knew for
+how long--and how you told me that it was more than you could bear;
+and the promise that you made me? Oh, Helen!"
+
+The girl gazed at him with a frightened look; he had sunk down upon
+his knee before her, and he caught her hand which lay upon the log
+at her side.
+
+"Helen!" he cried, "you cannot mean to forget that? For that promise
+has been the one joy of my life, that for which I have labored so
+hard! My one hope, Helen! I came to-day to claim it, to tell you--"
+
+And with a wild glance about her, the girl sprang to her feet,
+snatching her hand away from his.
+
+"Arthur!" she cried; "Arthur, you must not speak to me so!"
+
+"I must not, Helen?"
+
+"No, no," she cried, trembling; "we were only children, and we did
+not know the meaning of the words we used. You must not talk to me
+that way, Arthur."
+
+"Helen!" he protested, helplessly.
+
+"No, no, I will not allow it!" she cried more vehemently, stepping
+back as he started towards her, and holding close to her the hand he
+had held. "I had no idea there was such a thought in your mind--"
+
+Helen stopped, breathlessly.
+
+"--or you would not have been so kind to me?" the other added
+faintly.
+
+"I thought of you as an old friend," said Helen. "I was but a child
+when I went away. I wish you still to be a friend, Arthur; but you
+must not act in that way."
+
+The young man glanced once at her, and when he saw the stern look
+upon her face he buried his head in his arms without a sound.
+
+For fully a minute they remained thus, in silence; then as Helen
+watched him, her chest ceased gradually to heave, and a gentler look
+returned to her face. She came and sat down on the log again.
+
+"Arthur," she said after another silence, "can we not just be
+friends?"
+
+The young man answered nothing, but he raised his head and gazed at
+her; and she saw that there were tears in his eyes, and a look of
+mute helplessness upon his face. She trembled slightly, and rose to
+her feet again.
+
+"Arthur," she said gravely, "this must not be; we must not sit here
+any longer. I must go."
+
+"Helen!" exclaimed the other, springing up.
+
+But he saw her brow knit again, and he stopped short. The girl gazed
+about her, and the village in the distance caught her eye.
+
+"Listen," she said, with forced calmness; "I promised father that I
+would go and see old Mrs. Woodward, who was asking for me. You may
+wait here, if you like, and walk home with me, for I shall not be
+gone very long. Will you do it?"
+
+The other gazed at her for a moment or two; he was trying to read
+the girl's heart, but he saw only the quiet firmness of her
+features.
+
+"Will you wait, Arthur?" she asked again.
+
+And Arthur's head sank upon his breast. "Yes, Helen," he said. When
+he lifted it again, the girl was gone; she had disappeared in the
+thicket, and he could hear her footsteps as she passed swiftly down
+the hillside.
+
+He went to the edge of the woods, where he could see her a short
+distance below, hurrying down the path with a step as light and free
+as ever. The wind had met her at the forest's edge and joined her
+once more, playing about her skirts and tossing the lily again. As
+Arthur watched her, the old music came back into his heart; his eyes
+sparkled, and all his soul seemed to be dancing in time with her
+light motion. Thus it went until she came to a place where the path
+must hide her from his view. The young man held his breath, and when
+she turned a cry of joy escaped him; she saw him and waved her hand
+to him gaily as she swept on out of his sight.
+
+For a moment afterwards he stood rooted to the spot, then whirled
+about and laughed aloud. He put his hand to his forehead, which was
+flushed and hot, and he gazed about him, as if he were not sure
+where he was. "Oh, she is so beautiful!" he cried, his face a
+picture of rapture. "So beautiful!"
+
+And he started through the forest as wildly as any madman, now
+muttering to himself and now laughing aloud and making the forest
+echo with Helen's name. When he stopped again he was far away from
+the path, in a desolate spot, but tho he was staring around him, he
+saw no more than before. Trembling had seized his limbs, and he sank
+down upon the yellow forest leaves, hiding his face in his hands and
+whispering, "Oh, if I should lose her! If I should lose her!" As old
+Polonius has it, truly it was "the very ecstasy of love."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+"A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay."
+
+The town of Oakdale is at the present time a flourishing place,
+inhabited principally by "suburbanites," for it lies not very far
+from New York; but the Reverend Austin Davis, who was the spiritual
+guardian of most of them, had come to Oakdale some twenty and more
+years ago, when it was only a little village, with a struggling
+church which it was the task of the young clergyman to keep alive.
+Perhaps the growth of the town had as much to do with his success as
+his own efforts; but however that might have been he had received
+his temporal reward some ten years later, in the shape of a fine
+stone church, with a little parsonage beside it. He had lived there
+ever since, alone with his one child,--for just after coming to
+Oakdale he had married a daughter of one of the wealthy families of
+the neighborhood, and been left a widower a year or two later.
+
+A more unromantic and thoroughly busy man than Mr. Davis at the age
+of forty-five, when this story begins, it would not have been easy
+to find; but nevertheless people spoke of no less than two romances
+that had been connected with his life. One of them had been his
+early marriage, which had created a mild sensation, while the other
+had come into his life even sooner, in fact on the very first day of
+his arrival at Oakdale.
+
+Mr. Davis could still bring back to his mind with perfect clearness
+the first night he had spent in the little wooden cottage which he
+had hired for his residence; how while busily unpacking his trunk
+and trying to bring the disordered place into shape, he had opened
+the door in answer to a knock and beheld a woman stagger in out of
+the storm. She was a young girl, surely not yet out of her teens,
+her pale and sunken face showing marks of refinement and of former
+beauty. She carried in her arms a child of about a year's age, and
+she dropped it upon the sofa and sank down beside it, half fainting
+from exhaustion. The young clergyman's anxious inquiries having
+succeeded in eliciting but incoherent replies, he had left the room
+to procure some nourishment for the exhausted woman; it was upon his
+return that the discovery of the romance alluded to was made, for
+the woman had disappeared in the darkness and storm, and the baby
+was still lying upon the sofa.
+
+It was not altogether a pleasant romance, as is probably the case
+with a good many romances in reality. Mr. Davis was destined to
+retain for a long time a vivid recollection of the first night which
+he spent in alternately feeding that baby with a spoon, and in
+walking the floor with it; and also to remember the sly glances
+which his parishioners only half hid from him when his unpleasant
+plight was made known.
+
+It happened that the poorhouse at Hilltown near by, to which the
+infant would have gone if he had left it to the care of the county,
+was at that time being "investigated," with all that the name
+implies when referring to public matters; the clergy of the
+neighborhood being active in pushing the charges, Mr. Davis felt
+that at present it would look best for him to provide for the child
+himself. As the investigation came to nothing, the inducement was
+made a permanent one; perhaps also the memory of the mother's wan
+face had something to do with the matter. At any rate the young
+clergyman, tho but scantily provided for himself, managed to spare
+enough to engage a woman in the town to take care of the young
+charge. Subsequently when Mr. Davis' wife died the woman became
+Helen's nurse, and so it was that Arthur, as the baby boy had been
+christened, became permanently adopted into the clergyman's little
+family.
+
+It had not been possible to keep from Arthur the secret of his
+parentage, and the fact that it was known to all served to keep him
+aloof from the other children of the town, and to drive him still
+more to the confidence of Helen. One of the phrases which Mr. Davis
+had caught from the mother's lips had been that the boy was a
+"gentleman's son;" and Helen was wont to solace him by that
+reminder. Perhaps the phrase, constantly repeated, had much to do
+with the proud sensitiveness and the resolute independence which
+soon manifested itself in the lad's character. He had scarcely
+passed the age of twelve before, tho treated by Mr. Davis with the
+love and kindness of a father, he astonished the good man by
+declaring that he was old enough to take care of himself; and tho
+Mr. Davis was better situated financially by that time, nothing that
+he could say could alter the boy's quiet determination to leave
+school and be independent, a resolution in which he was seconded by
+Helen, a little miss of some nine years. The two children had talked
+it over for months, as it appeared, and concluded that it was best
+to sacrifice in the cause of honor the privilege of going to school
+together, and of spending the long holidays roaming about the
+country.
+
+So the lad had served with childish dignity, first as an errand boy,
+and then as a store clerk, always contributing his mite of "board"
+to Mr. Davis' household expenses; meanwhile, possibly because he was
+really "a gentleman's son," and had inherited a taste for study, he
+had made by himself about as much progress as if he had been at
+school. Some years later, to the delight of Helen and Mr. Davis, he
+had carried off a prize scholarship above the heads of the graduates
+of the Hilltown High School, and still refusing all help, had gone
+away to college, to support himself there while studying by such
+work as he could find, knowing well that a true gentleman's son is
+ashamed of nothing honest.
+
+He spent his vacations at home, where he and Helen studied
+together,--or such rather had been his hope; it was realized only
+for the first year.
+
+Helen had an aunt upon her mother's side, a woman of wealth and
+social position, who owned a large country home near Oakdale, and
+who was by no means inclined to view with the complacency of Mr.
+Davis the idyllic friendship of the two young people. Mrs. Roberts,
+or "Aunt Polly" as she was known to the family, had plans of her own
+concerning the future of the beauty which she saw unfolding itself
+at the Oakdale parsonage. She said nothing to Mr. Davis, for he,
+being busy with theological works and charitable organizations, was
+not considered a man from whom one might hope for proper ideas about
+life. But with her own more practical husband she had frequently
+discussed the danger, and the possible methods of warding it off.
+
+To send Helen to a boarding school would have been of no use, for
+the vacations were the times of danger; so it was that the trip
+abroad was finally decided upon. Aunt Polly, having traveled
+herself, had a wholesome regard for German culture, believing that
+music and things of that sort were paying investments. It chanced,
+also, that her own eldest daughter, who was a year older than Helen,
+was about through with all that American teachers had to impart; and
+so after much argument with Mr. Davis, it was finally arranged that
+she and Helen should study in Germany together. Just when poor
+Arthur was returning home with the sublime title of junior, his
+dream of all things divine was carried off by Aunt Polly, and after
+a summer spent in "doing" Europe, was installed in a girl's school
+in Leipzig.
+
+And now, three years having passed, Helen has left her cousin for
+another year of travel, and returned home in all the glory of her
+own springtime and of Nature's; which brings us to where we left
+her, hurrying away to pay a duty call in the little settlement on
+the hillside.
+
+The visit had not been entirely a subterfuge, for Helen's father had
+mentioned to her that the elderly person whom she had named to
+Arthur was expecting to see her when she returned, and Helen had
+been troubled by the thought that she would never have any peace
+until she had paid that visit. It was by no means an agreeable one,
+for old Mrs. Woodward was exceedingly dull, and Helen felt that she
+was called upon to make war upon dullness. However, it had occurred
+to her to get her task out of the way at once, while she felt that
+she ought to leave Arthur.
+
+The visit proved to be quite as depressing as she had expected, for
+it is sad to have to record that Helen, however sensitive to the
+streamlet and the flowers, had not the least sympathy in the world
+for an old woman who had a very sharp chin, who stared at one
+through two pairs of spectacles, and whose conversation was about
+her own health and the dampness of the springtime, besides the
+dreariest gossip about Oakdale's least interesting people. Perhaps
+it might have occurred to the girl that it is very forlorn to have
+nothing else to talk about, and that even old Mrs. Woodward might
+have liked to hear about some of the things in the forest, or to
+have been offered the lily and the marigold. Unfortunately, however,
+Helen did not think about any of that, but only moved restlessly
+about in her chair and gazed around the ugly room. Finally when she
+could stand it no more, she sprang up between two of Mrs. Woodward's
+longest sentences and remarked that it was very late and a long way
+home, and that she would come again some time.
+
+Then at last when she was out in the open air, she drew a deep
+breath and fled away to the woods, wondering what could be God's
+reason for such things. It was not until she was half way up the
+hillside that she could feel that the wind, which blew now upon her
+forehead, had quite swept away the depression which had settled upon
+her. She drank in the odors which blew from the woods, and began
+singing to herself again, and looking out for Arthur.
+
+She was rather surprised not to see him at once, and still more
+surprised when she came nearer and raised her voice to call him; for
+she reached the forest and came to the place where she had left him
+without a reply having come. She shouted his name again and again,
+until at last, not without a half secret chagrin to have been so
+quickly forgotten, she was obliged to set out for home alone.
+
+"Perhaps he's gone on ahead," she thought, quickening her pace.
+
+For a time she watched anxiously, expecting to see his darkly clad
+figure; but she soon wearied of continued failure, and because it
+was her birthday, and because the brook was still at her side and
+the beautiful forest still about her, she took to singing again, and
+was quickly as happy and glorious as before, ceasing her caroling
+and moderating her woodland pace only when she neared the town. She
+passed down the main street of Oakdale, not quite without an
+exulting consciousness that her walk had crowned her beauty and that
+no one whom she saw was thinking about anything else; and so she
+came to her home, to the dear old parsonage, with its spreading ivy
+vines, and its two great elms.
+
+When she had hurried up the steps and shut the door behind her,
+Helen felt privileged again to be just as merry as she chose, for
+she was even more at home here than in the woods; it seemed as if
+everything were stretching out its arms to her to welcome her, and
+to invite her to carry out her declared purpose of taking the reins
+of government in her own hands.
+
+Upon one side of the hallway was a parlor, and on the other side two
+rooms, which Mr. Davis had used as a reception room and a study. The
+parlor had never been opened, and Helen promised herself a jolly
+time superintending the fixing up of that; on the other side she had
+already taken possession of the front room, symbolically at any
+rate, by having her piano moved in and her music unpacked, and a
+case emptied for the books she had brought from Germany. To be sure,
+on the other side was still a dreary wall of theological treatises
+in funereal black, but Helen was not without hopes that continued
+doses of cheerfulness might cure her father of such incomprehensible
+habits, and obtain for her the permission to move the books to the
+attic.
+
+To start things in that direction the girl now danced gaily into the
+study where her father was in the act of writing "thirdly,
+brethren," for his next day's sermon; and crying out merrily,
+
+  "Up, up my friend, and quit your books,
+  Or surely you'll grow double!"
+
+she saluted her reverend father with the sweetest of kisses, and
+then seated herself on the arm of his chair and gravely took his pen
+out of his hand, and closed his inkstand. She turned over the
+"thirdly, brethren," without blotting it, and recited solemnly:
+
+  "One impulse from a vernal wood
+    May teach you more of man,
+  Of moral evil and of good.
+    Than all the sages can!"
+
+And then she laughed the merriest of merry laughs and added, "Daddy,
+dear, I am an impulse! And I want you to spare some time for me."
+
+"Yes, my love," said Mr. Davis, smiling upon her, though groaning
+inwardly for his lost ideas. "You are beautiful this morning, Helen.
+What have you been doing?"
+
+"I've had a glorious walk," replied the girl, "and all kinds of
+wonderful adventures; I've had a dance with the morning wind, and a
+race of a mile or two with a brook, and I've sung duets with all the
+flowers,--and here you are writing uninteresting things!"
+
+"It's my sermon, Helen," said Mr. Davis.
+
+"I know it," said Helen, gravely.
+
+"But it must be done for to-morrow," protested the other.
+
+"Half your congregation is going to be so excited about two tallow
+candles that it won't know what you preach about," answered the
+girl, swinging herself on the arm of the chair; "and I'm going to
+sing for the other half, and so they won't care either. And besides,
+Daddy, I've got news to tell you; you've no idea what a good girl
+I've been."
+
+"How, my love?"
+
+"I went to see Mrs. Woodward."
+
+"You didn't!"
+
+"Yes; and it was just to show you how dutiful I'm going to be.
+Daddy, I felt so sorry for the poor old lady; it is so beautiful to
+know that one is doing good and bringing happiness into other
+people's lives! I think I'll go and see her often, and carry her
+something nice if you'll let me."
+
+Helen said all that as gravely as a judge; but Mr. Davis was
+agreeing so delightedly that she feared she was carrying the joke
+too far. She changed the subject quickly.
+
+"Oh, Daddy!" she cried, "I forgot to tell you--I met a genius
+to-day!"
+
+"A genius?" inquired the other.
+
+"Yes," said Helen, "and I've been walking around with him all
+morning out in the woods! Did you never hear that every place like
+that has a genius?"
+
+"Yes," assented Mr. Davis, "but I don't understand your joke."
+
+"This was the genius of Hilltown High School," laughed Helen.
+
+"Oh, Arthur!"
+
+"Yes; will you believe it, the dear boy had walked all the way from
+there to see me; and he waited out by the old seat at the spring!"
+
+"But where is he now?"
+
+"I don't know," said Helen. "It's very queer; I left him to go see
+Mrs. Woodward. He didn't go with me," she added, "I don't believe he
+felt inclined to charity."
+
+"That is not like Arthur," said the other.
+
+"I'm going to take him in hand, as becomes a clergyman's daughter,"
+said Helen demurely; "I'm going to be a model daughter, Daddy--just
+you wait and see! I'll visit all your parishioners' lawn-parties
+and five o'clock teas for you, and I'll play Handel's Largo and
+Siegfried's Funeral March whenever you want to write sermons. Won't
+you like that?"
+
+"Perhaps," said Mr. Davis, dubiously.
+
+"Only I know you'll make blots when I come to the cymbals," said
+Helen; and she doubled up her fists and hummed the passage, and gave
+so realistic an imitation of the cymbal-clashes in the great dirge
+that it almost upset the chair. Afterwards she laughed one of her
+merriest laughs and kissed her father on the forehead.
+
+"I heard it at Baireuth," she said, "and it was just fine! It made
+your flesh creep all over you. And oh, Daddy, I brought home a
+souvenir of Wagner's grave!"
+
+"Did you?" asked Mr. Davis, who knew very little about Wagner.
+
+"Yes," said Helen, "just a pebble I picked up near it; and you ought
+to have seen the custom-house officer at the dock yesterday when he
+was going through my trunks. 'What's this, Miss?' he asked; I guess
+he thought it was a diamond in the rough. 'Oh, that's from Wagner's
+grave,' I said. And what do you think the wretch did?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, my love."
+
+"He threw it back, saying it wasn't worth anything; I think he must
+have been a Brahmsite."
+
+"It took the longest time going through all my treasures," Helen
+prattled on, after laughing at her own joke; "you know Aunt Polly
+let us have everything we wanted, bless her heart!"
+
+"I'm afraid Aunt Polly must have spoiled you," said the other.
+
+"She has," laughed Helen; "I really think she must mean to make me
+marry a rich husband, or else she'd never have left me at that great
+rich school; Lucy and I were the 'star-boarders' you know, and we
+just had everybody to spoil us. How in the world could you ever
+manage to spare so much money, Daddy?"
+
+"Oh, it was not so much," said Mr. Davis; "things are cheaper
+abroad." (As a matter of fact, the grimly resolute Aunt Polly had
+paid two-thirds of her niece's expenses secretly, besides
+distributing pocket money with lavish generosity.)
+
+"And you should see the wonderful dresses I've brought from Paris,"
+Helen went on. "Oh, Daddy, I tell you I shall be glorious! Aunt
+Polly's going to invite a lot of people at her house next week to
+meet me, and I'm going to wear the reddest of red, red dresses, and
+just shine like a lighthouse!"
+
+"I'm afraid," said the clergyman, surveying her with more pride than
+was perhaps orthodox, "I'm afraid you'll find it hard to be
+satisfied in this poor little home of ours."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," said Helen; "I'll soon get used to it; and
+besides, I've got plenty of things to fix it up with--if you'll only
+get those dreadful theological works out of the front room! Daddy
+dear, you can't imagine how hard it is to bring the Valkyries and
+Niebelungs into a theological library."
+
+"I'll see what I can do, my love," said Mr. Davis.
+
+He was silent for a few moments, perhaps wondering vaguely whether
+it was well that this commanding young lady should have everything
+in the world she desired; Helen, who had her share of penetration,
+probably divined the thought, for she made haste to change the
+subject.
+
+"By the way," she laughed, "we got so interested in our chattering
+that we forgot all about Arthur."
+
+"Sure enough," exclaimed the other. "Pray where can he have gone?"
+
+"I don't know," Helen said; "it's strange. But poets are such queer
+creatures!"
+
+"Arthur is a very splendid creature," said Mr. Davis. "You have no
+idea, Helen, how hard he has labored since you have been away. He
+carried off all the honors at college, and they say he has written
+some good poetry. I don't know much about that, but the people who
+know tell me so."
+
+"It would be gloriously romantic to know a great poet," said Helen,
+"and perhaps have him write poetry about you,--'Helen, thy beauty is
+to me,' and 'Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss,' and all
+sorts of things like that! He's coming to live with us this summer
+as usual, isn't he, Daddy?"
+
+"I don't know," said the other; "I presume he will. But where can he
+have gone to-day?"
+
+"He acted very queerly," said the girl; and then suddenly a
+delighted smile lit up her face. "Oh, Daddy," she added, "do you
+know, I think Arthur is in love!"
+
+"In love!" gasped Mr. Davis.
+
+"Yes, in love!"
+
+"Pray, with whom?"
+
+"I'm sure I can't imagine," said Helen gravely; "but he seemed so
+abstracted, and he seemed to have something to tell me. And then he
+ran away!"
+
+"That is very strange indeed," remarked the other. "I shall have to
+speak to him about it."
+
+"If he doesn't come back soon, I'll go to look for him," said the
+girl; "I'm not going to let the water nixies run off with my Arthur;
+there are such things in that stream, because the song I was singing
+about it says so." And then she chanted as merrily as ever:
+
+  "Why speak I of a murmur?
+    No murmur can it be;
+  The Nixies they are singing
+    'Neath the wave their melody!"
+
+"I will tell you what," said Mr. Davis, rising from his chair as he
+realized that the sermon had entirely vanished for the present. "You
+may go part of the way with me, and we'll stop in to see the Vails."
+
+"The Vails!" gasped Helen. (Mr. Vail was the village dairyman, whose
+farm lay on the outskirts of the town; the village dairyman's family
+was not one that Helen cared to visit.)
+
+"My love," said Mr. Davis, "poor Mrs. Vail has been very ill, and
+she has three little children, you know. You told me that you liked
+to bring joy wherever you could."
+
+"Yes, but, Daddy," protested Helen, "_those_ children are _dirty!_
+Ugh! I saw them as I came by."
+
+"My love," answered the other, "they are God's children none the
+less; and we cannot always help such things."
+
+"But we _can_, Daddy; there is plenty of water in the world."
+
+"Yes, of course; but when the mother is ill, and the father in
+trouble! For poor Mr. Vail has had no end of misfortune; he has no
+resource but the little dairy, and three of his cows have been ill
+this spring."
+
+And Helen's incorrigible mirth lighted up her face again. "Oh!" she
+cried. "Is _that_ it! I saw him struggling away at the pump as I
+came by; but I had no idea it was anything so serious!"
+
+Mr. Davis looked grieved; Helen, when her first burst of glee had
+passed, noticed it and changed her mood. She put her arms around her
+father's neck and pressed her cheek against his.
+
+"Daddy, dear," she said coaxingly, "haven't I done charity enough
+for one day? You will surfeit me at the start, and then I'll be just
+as little fond of it as I was before. When I must let dirty children
+climb all over me, I can dress for the occasion."
+
+"My dear," pleaded Mr. Davis, "Godliness is placed before
+Cleanliness."
+
+"Yes," admitted Helen, "and of course it is right for you to
+inculcate the greater virtue; but I'm only a girl, and you mustn't
+expect sublimity from me. You don't want to turn me into a president
+of sewing societies, like that dreadful Mrs. Dale!"
+
+"Helen," protested the other, helplessly, "I wish you would not
+always refer to Mrs. Dale with that adjective; she is the best
+helper I have."
+
+"Yes, Daddy," said Helen, with the utmost solemnity; "when I have a
+dreadful eagle nose like hers, perhaps I can preside over meetings
+too. But I can't now."
+
+"I do not want you to, my love; but--"
+
+"And if I have to cling by the weaker virtue of cleanliness just for
+a little while, Daddy, you must not mind. I'll visit all your clean
+parishioners for you,--parishioners like Aunt Polly!"
+
+And before Mr. Davis could make another remark, the girl had skipped
+into the other room to the piano; as her father went slowly out the
+door, the echoes of the old house were laughing with the happy
+melody of Purcell's--
+
+  Nymphs and shepherds, come a-way, come a-way,
+  Nymphs and shepherds, come a-way, come a-way, Come,
+  come, come, come a-way!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+  "For you alone I strive to sing,
+    Oh, tell me how to woo!"
+
+When Helen was left alone, she seated herself before her old music
+stand which had been brought down to welcome her, and proceeded to
+glance over and arrange the pieces she had learned and loved in her
+young girlhood. Most of them made her smile, and when she reflected
+upon how difficult she used to think them, she realized that now
+that it was over she was glad for the German regime. Helen had
+accounted herself an accomplished pianist when she went away, but
+she had met with new standards and learned to think humbly of
+herself in the great home of music. She possessed a genuine fondness
+for the art, however, and had devoted most of her three years to it,
+so that she came home rejoicing in the possession of a technic that
+was quite a mastership compared with any that she was likely to
+meet.
+
+Helen's thoughts did not dwell upon that very long at present,
+however; she found herself thinking again about Arthur, and the
+unexpected ending of her walk with him.
+
+"I had no idea he felt that way toward me," she mused, resting her
+chin in her hand; "what in the world am I going to do? Men are
+certainly most inconvenient creatures; I thought I was doing
+everything in the world to make him happy!"
+
+Helen turned to the music once more, but the memory of the figure
+she had left sunken helplessly upon the forest seat stayed in her
+mind. "I do wonder if that can be why he did not wait for me," she
+thought, shuddering,--"if he was too wretched to see me again; what
+CAN I do?" She got up and began walking restlessly up and down the
+room for a few minutes.
+
+"Perhaps I ought to go and look for him," she mused; "it was an hour
+or two ago that I left him there;" and Helen, after thinking the
+matter over, had half turned to leave, when she heard a step outside
+and saw the door open quickly. Even before she saw him she knew who
+it was, for only Arthur would have entered without ringing the bell.
+After having pictured him overcome by despair, it was rather a blow
+to her pride to see him, for he entered flushed, and seemingly
+elated.
+
+"Well, sir, you've treated me nicely!" she exclaimed, showing her
+vexation in spite of herself.
+
+"You will forgive me," said Arthur, smiling.
+
+"Don't be too sure of it," Helen said; "I looked for you everywhere,
+and I am quite angry."
+
+"I was obeying your high command," the other replied, still smiling.
+
+"My command? I told you to wait for me."
+
+"You told me something else," laughed Arthur. "You spent all the
+morning instructing me for it, you know."
+
+"Oh!" said Helen. It was a broad and very much prolonged "Oh," for a
+sudden light was dawning upon the girl; as it came her frown gave
+place to a look of delight.
+
+"You have been writing me a poem!" she cried, eagerly.
+
+"Yes," said Arthur.
+
+"Oh, you dear boy!" Helen laughed. "Then I do forgive you; but you
+ought to have told me, for I had to walk home all alone, and I've
+been worrying about you. I never once thought of the poem."
+
+"The muses call without warning," laughed Arthur, "and one has to
+obey them, you know."
+
+"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the other. "And so you've been wandering around
+the woods all this time, making verses! And you've been waving your
+arms and talking to yourself, and doing all sorts of crazy things, I
+know!" Then as she saw Arthur flush, she went on: "I was sure of it!
+And you ran away so that I wouldn't see you! Oh, I wish I'd known;
+I'd have hunted you up and never come home until I'd found you."
+
+As was usual with Helen, her momentary vexation had gone like April
+rain, and all her seriousness had vanished with it. She forgot all
+about the last scene in the woods, and Arthur was once more the
+friend of her girlhood, whom she might take by the hand when she
+chose, and with whom she might be as free and happy as when she was
+alone with the flowers and the wind. It seemed as if Arthur too had
+vented all his pent up emotion, and returned to his natural cheerful
+self.
+
+"Tell me," she cried, "did you put in all the things I told you
+about?"
+
+"I put all I could," said Arthur. "That is a great deal to ask."
+
+"I only want it to be full of life," laughed Helen. "That's all I
+care about; the man who wants to write springtime poetry for me must
+be wide awake!"
+
+"Shall I read it to you?" asked Arthur, hesitatingly.
+
+"Yes, of course," said Helen. "And read it as if you meant it; if I
+like it I'll tell you so."
+
+"I wrote it for nothing but to please you" was the reply, and Arthur
+took a much bescrawled piece of paper from his pocket; the girl
+seated herself upon the piano stool again and gazed up at him as he
+rested his elbow upon the top of the piano and read his lines. There
+could not have been a situation in which the young poet would have
+read them with more complete happiness, and so it was a pleasure to
+watch him. And Helen's eyes kindled, and her cheeks flushed brightly
+as she listened, for she found that the verses had taken their
+imagery from her very lips.
+
+  In the May-time's golden glory
+    Ere the quivering sun was high,
+  I heard the Wind of Morning
+    Through the laughing meadows fly;
+
+  In his passion-song was throbbing
+    All the madness of the May,
+  And he whispered: Thou hast labored;
+    Thou art weary; come away!
+
+  Thou shalt drink a fiery potion
+    For thy prisoned spirit's pain;
+  Thou shalt taste the ancient rapture
+    That thy soul has sought in vain.
+
+  I will tell thee of a maiden,
+    One who has thy longing fanned--
+  Spirit of the Forest Music--
+    Thou shalt take her by the hand,
+
+  Lightly by her rosy fingers
+    Trembling with her keen delight,
+  And her flying steps shall lead thee
+    Out upon the mountain's height;
+
+  To a dance undreamed of mortal
+    To the Bacchanal of Spring,--
+  Where in mystic joy united
+    Nature's bright-eyed creatures sing.
+
+  There the green things of the mountain,
+    Million-voiced, newly-born,
+  And the flowers of the valley
+    In their beauty's crimson morn;
+
+  There the winged winds of morning,
+    Spirits unresting, touched with fire,
+  And the streamlets, silver-throated,
+    They whose leaping steps ne'er tire!
+
+  Thou shalt see them, ever circling
+    Round about a rocky spring,
+  While the gaunt old forest-warriors
+    Madly their wide branches fling.
+
+  Thou shalt tread the whirling measure,
+    Bathe thee in its frenzied strife;
+  Thou shalt have a mighty memory
+    For thy spirit's after life.
+
+  Haste thee while thy heart is burning,
+    While thine eyes have strength to see;
+  Hark, behind yon blackening cloud-bank,
+    To the Storm-King's minstrelsy!
+
+  See, he stamps upon the mountains,
+    And he leaps the valleys high!
+  Now he smites his forest harp-strings,
+    And he sounds his thunder-cry:--
+
+  Waken, lift ye up, ye creatures,
+    Sing the song, each living thing!
+  Join ye in the mighty passion
+    Of the Symphony of Spring!
+
+And so the young poet finished, his cheeks fairly on fire, and, as
+he gazed down at Helen, his hand trembling so that he could hardly
+hold the paper. One glance told him that she was pleased, for the
+girl's face was flushed like his own, and her eyes were sparkling
+with delight. Arthur's heart gave a great throb within him.
+
+"You like it!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, Arthur, I do!" she cried. "Oh, how glorious you must have
+been!" And trembling with girlish delight, she took the paper from
+his hand and placed it in front of her on the music rack.
+
+"Oh, I should like to write music for it!" she exclaimed; "for those
+lines about the Storm-King!"
+
+And she read them aloud, clenching her hands and shaking her head,
+carried away by the image they brought before her eyes. "Oh, I
+should like music for it!" she cried again.
+
+"I don't know very much about poetry, you know," she added, laughing
+excitedly. "If it's about the things I like, I can't help thinking
+it's fine. It's just the same with music,--if a man only makes it
+swift and strong, so that it leaps and flies and never tires, that
+is all I care about; and if he just keeps his trombones till the
+very last, he can carry me off my feet though he makes the worst
+noise that ever was! It's the same as a storm, you know, Arthur; do
+you remember how we used to go up on our hillside when the great
+wind was coming, and when everything was growing still and black;
+and how we used to watch the big clouds and the sheets of rain, and
+run for home when we heard the thunder? Once when you were away,
+Arthur, I didn't run, for I wanted to see what it was like; and I
+stayed up there and saw it all, singing the 'Ride of the Valkyries,'
+and pretending I was one of them and could gallop with the wind. For
+the wind is fine, Arthur! It fills you so full of its power that you
+stretch out your arms to it, and it makes you sing; and it comes,
+and it comes again, stronger than ever, and it sweeps you on, just
+like a great mass of music. And then it howls through the trees and
+it flies over the valleys,--that was what you were thinking of,
+weren't you, Arthur?"
+
+And Helen stopped, breathlessly, and gazed at him; her cheeks were
+flushed, and her hands still tightly clasped.
+
+"Yes," said Arthur, half mechanically, for he had lost himself in
+the girl's enthusiasm, and felt the storm of his verses once more.
+
+"Your poem made me think of that one time that was so gloriously,"
+Helen went on. "For the rain was almost blinding, and I was
+drenched, but I did not even know it. For oh, the thunder! Arthur,
+you've no idea what thunder is like till you're near it! There fell
+one fearful bolt quite near me, a great white, living thing, as
+thick as a man's body, and the crash of it seemed to split the air.
+But oh, I didn't mind it a bit! 'Der Sanger triumphirt in Wettern!'
+I think I was a real Valkyrie that time, and I only wished that I
+might put it into music."
+
+The girl turned to the piano, and half in play struck a great
+rumbling chord, that rolled and echoed through the room; she sounded
+it once more, laughing aloud with glee. Arthur had sunk down upon a
+chair beside her, and was bending forward, watching her with growing
+excitement. For again and again Helen struck the keys with all the
+power of her arms, until they seemed to give forth real storm and
+thunder; and as she went on with her reckless play the mood grew
+upon her, and she lost herself in the vision of the Storm-King
+sweeping through the sky. She poured out a great stream of his wild
+music, singing away to herself excitedly in the meantime. And as the
+rush continued and the fierce music swelled louder, the phantasy
+took hold of the girl and carried her beyond herself. She seemed to
+become the very demon of the storm, unbound and reckless; she smote
+the keys with right royal strength, and the piano seemed a thing of
+life beneath her touch. The pace became faster, and the thunder
+rattled and crashed more wildly, and there awoke in the girl's soul
+a power of musical utterance that she had never dreamed of in her
+life before. Her whole being was swept away in ecstasy; her lips
+were moving excitedly, and her pulses were leaping like mad. She
+seemed no longer to know of the young man beside her, who was bent
+forward with clenched hands, carried beyond himself by the sight of
+her exulting power.
+
+And in the meantime, Helen's music was surging on, building itself
+up into a great climax that swelled and soared and burst in a
+deafening thunder crash; and while the air was still throbbing and
+echoing with it, the girl joined to it her deep voice, grown
+suddenly conscious of new power:
+
+  "See, he stamps upon the mountains,
+    And he leaps the valleys high!
+  Now he smites his forest harp-strings,
+    And he sounds his thunder cry!"
+
+And as the cry came the girl laughed aloud, like a very Valkyrie
+indeed, her laugh part of the music, and carried on by it; and then
+gradually as the tempest swept on, the rolling thunder was lost in a
+march that was the very tread of the Storm-King. And the march
+broadened, and the thunder died out of it slowly, and all the wild
+confusion, and then it rose, glorious and triumphant, and turned to
+a mighty pean, a mightier one than ever Helen could have made. The
+thought of it had come to her as an inspiration, and as a refuge,
+that the glory of her passion might not be lost. The march had led
+her to it, and now it had taken her in its arms and swept her away,
+as it had swept millions by its majesty. It was the great Ninth
+Symphony Hymn:
+
+  "Hail thee, Joy! From Heaven descending,
+    Daughter from Elysium!
+  Ecstasy our hearts inflaming,
+    To thy sacred shrine we come.
+  Thine enchantments bind together
+    Those whom custom's law divides;
+  All are brothers, all united,
+    Where thy gentle wing abides."
+
+And Helen sang it as one possessed by it, as one made drunk with its
+glory--as the very Goddess of Joy that she was. For the Storm-King
+and his legions had fled, and another vision had come into her
+heart, a vision that every one ought to carry with him when the
+great symphony is to be heard. He should see the hall in Vienna
+where it was given for the last time in the great master's life, and
+see the great master himself, the bowed and broken figure that all
+musicians worship, standing up to conduct it; and see him leading it
+through all its wild surging passion, almost too frantic to be
+endured; and then, when the last towering climax has passed and the
+music has ceased and the multitude at his back has burst forth into
+its thundering shout, see the one pathetic figure standing there
+aloft before all eyes and still blindly beating the time. There must
+have been tears in the eyes of every man in that place to know the
+reason for it,--that he from whose heart all their joy had come, he
+who was lord and master of it, had never heard in his life and could
+never hope to hear one sound of that music he had written, but must
+dwell a prisoner in darkness and solitude forever.
+
+That was the picture before Helen's eyes; she did not think of the
+fearful tragedy of it--she had no feeling for tragedy, she knew no
+more about suffering than a child just born. But joy she knew, and
+joy she was; she was the multitude lifted up in its ecstasy,
+throbbing, burning and triumphant, and she sang the great choruses,
+one after another, and the piano beneath her fingers thundered and
+rang with the instrumental part. Surely in all music there is no
+utterance of joy so sustained and so overwhelming in its intensity
+as this; it is a frenzy almost more than man can stand; it is joy
+more than human--the joy of existence:--
+
+  "Pleasure every creature living
+    From kind Nature's breast receives;
+  Good and evil, all are seeking
+    For the rosy path she leaves."
+
+And so the torrent of passionate exultation swept Helen onward with
+it until the very end, the last frantic prestissimo chorus, and then
+she sprang to her feet and flung up her hands with a cry. She stood
+thus for a moment, glowing with exultation, and then she sank down
+again and sat staring before her, the music still echoing through
+every fiber of her soul, and the shouting multitude still surging
+before her.
+
+For just how long that lasted, she knew not, but only that her wild
+mood was gradually subsiding, and that she felt herself sinking
+back, as a bird sinks after its flight; then suddenly she turned.
+Arthur was at her side, and she gave a cry, for he had seized her
+hand in his, and was covering it with burning kisses.
+
+"Arthur! Arthur!" she gasped.
+
+The young man gazed up at her, and Helen remembered the scene in the
+forest, and realized what she had done. She had shaken him to the
+very depths of his being by the emotion which she had flung loose
+before him, and he seemed beside himself at that moment, his hair
+disordered and his forehead hot and flushed. He made a move as if to
+clasp the girl in his arms, and Helen tore her hand loose by main
+force and sprang back to the doorway.
+
+"Arthur!" she cried. "What do you mean?"
+
+He clutched at a chair for support, and stood staring at her. For
+fully a minute they remained thus, Helen trembling with alarm; then
+his head sank, and he flung himself down upon the sofa, where he lay
+sobbing passionately. Helen remained gazing at him with wide open
+and astonished eyes.
+
+"Arthur!" she exclaimed again.
+
+But he did not hear her, for the cruel sobbing that shook his frame.
+Helen, as soon as her first alarm had passed, came softly nearer,
+till she stood by the sofa; but still he did not heed her, and she
+did not dare even to put her hand upon his shoulder. She was afraid
+of him, her dearest friend, and she knew not what to make of him.
+
+"Arthur," she whispered again, when he was silent for a moment.
+"Please speak to me, Arthur."
+
+The other gazed up at her with a look of such helpless despair and
+longing upon his face that Helen was frightened still more. He had
+been sobbing as if his heart would break, but his eyes were dry.
+
+"What is the matter?" she cried.
+
+The young man answered her hoarsely: "Can you not see what is the
+matter, Helen? I love you! And you drive me mad!"
+
+The girl turned very pale, and lowered her eyes before his burning
+gaze.
+
+"Helen," the other went on impetuously, "you will break my heart if
+you treat me in this way. Do you not know that for three long years
+I have been dreaming of you, and of the promise that you gave me?
+You told me that you loved me, and that you always would love me!
+You told me that the night before you went away; and you kissed me.
+All this time I have been thinking of that kiss, and cherishing the
+memory of it, and waiting for you to return. I have labored for no
+other reason, I have had no other hope in the world; I have kept
+your image before me, and lived in it, and worshiped before it, and
+the thought of you has been all that I had. When I was tired and
+worn and ill I could only think of you and remember your promise,
+and count the days before your return. And, oh, it has been so long
+that I could not stand it! For weeks I have been so impatient, and
+so filled with the thought of the day when I might see you again
+that I have been helpless and half mad; for I thought that I should
+take your hand in mine and claim your promise. And this morning I
+wandered about the woods for hours, waiting for you to come. And see
+how you have treated me!"
+
+He buried his face in his hands again, and Helen stood gazing at
+him, breathing very fast with alarm, and unable to find a word to
+say.
+
+"Helen," he groaned, without looking up again, "do you not know that
+you are beautiful? Have you no heart? You fling your soul bare
+before me, and you fill me with this fearful passion; you will drive
+me mad!"
+
+"But, Arthur," she protested, "I could not think of you so; I
+thought of you as my brother, and I meant to make you happy."
+
+"Tell me, then," he gasped, staring at her, "tell me once for all.
+You do _not_ love me, Helen?"
+
+The girl answered with a frank gaze that was cruel, "No, Arthur."
+
+"And you can never love me? You take back the promise that you made
+me?"
+
+"I told you that I was only a child, Arthur; it has been a long time
+since I have thought of it."
+
+The young man choked back a sob. "Oh, Helen, if you only knew what
+cruel words those are," he groaned. "I cannot bear them."
+
+He gazed at her with his burning eyes, so that the girl lowered hers
+again. "Tell me!" he exclaimed. "What am I to do?"
+
+"Can we not remain friends, just as we used to be?" she asked
+pleadingly. "Can we not talk together and help each other as before?
+Oh, Arthur, I thought you would come here to live all summer, and
+how I should like it! Why can you not? Can you not let me play for
+you without--without--" and Helen stopped, and flushed a trifle; "I
+do not know quite what to make of you to-day," she added.
+
+She was speaking kindly, but to the man beside her with his burning
+heart, her words were hard to hear; he stared at her, shuddering,
+and then suddenly he clenched his hands and started to his feet.
+
+"Helen," he cried, "there is but one thing. I must go!"
+
+"Go?" echoed Helen.
+
+"If I stay here and gaze at you I shall go mad with despair," he
+exclaimed incoherently. "Oh, I shall go mad! For I do love you, and
+you talk to me as if I were a child! Helen, I must get this out of
+my heart in some way, I cannot stay here."
+
+"But, Arthur," the girl protested, "I told father you would stay,
+and you will make yourself ill, for you have walked all day."
+
+Every word she uttered was more torment to the other, for it showed
+him how much his hopes were gone to wreck. He rushed across the room
+and opened the door; then, however, he paused, as if that had cost
+him all his resolution. He gazed at the girl with a look of
+unspeakable yearning, his face white, and his limbs trembling
+beneath him.
+
+"You wish me to go, Helen?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Wish you!" exclaimed Helen, who was watching him in alarm. "Of
+course not; I want you to stay and see father, and--"
+
+"And hear you tell me that you do not love me! Oh, Helen, how can
+you say it again? Can you not see what you have done to me?"
+
+"Arthur!" cried the girl.
+
+"Yes, what you have done to me! You have made me so that I dare not
+stay near you. You _must_ love me, Helen, oh, some time you must!"
+And he came toward her again, stretching out his arms to her. As she
+sprang back, frowning, he stopped and stood for an instant, half
+sinking; then he whirled about and darted out of the door.
+
+Helen was scarcely able to realize at first that he was gone, but
+when she looked out she saw that he was already far down the street,
+walking swiftly. For a moment she thought of calling him; but she
+checked herself, and closed the door quietly instead, after which
+she walked slowly across the room. In the center of it she stopped
+still, gazing in front of her thoughtfully, and looking very grave
+indeed. "That is dreadful," she said slowly. "I had no idea of such
+a thing. What in the world am I to do?"
+
+There was a tall mirror between the two windows of the room, and
+Helen went toward it and stood in front of it, gazing earnestly at
+herself. "Is it true, then, that I am so very beautiful?" she mused.
+"And even Arthur must fall in love with me!"
+
+Helen's face was still flushed with the glory of her ride with the
+Storm-King; she smoothed back the long strands of golden hair that
+had come loose, and then she looked at herself again. "It is
+dreadful," she said once more, half aloud, "I do not think I ever
+felt so nervous in my life, and I don't know what to do; everything
+I did to please him seemed only to make him more miserable. I wanted
+him to be happy with me; I wanted him to stay with me." And she
+walked away frowning, and seated herself at the piano and began
+peevishly striking at the keys. "I am going to write to him and tell
+him that he must get over that dreadfulness," she muttered after a
+while, "and come back and be friends with me. Oakdale will be too
+stupid without him all summer, and I should be miserable."
+
+She was just rising impatiently when the front door opened and her
+father came in, exclaiming in a cheery voice, "Well, children!" Then
+he stopped in surprise. "Why, someone told me Arthur was here!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+"He's gone home again," said Helen, in a dissatisfied tone.
+
+"Home!" exclaimed the other. "To Hilltown?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But I thought he was going to stay until tomorrow."
+
+"So did I," said Helen, "but he changed his mind and decided that
+he'd better not."
+
+"Why, I am really disappointed," said Mr. Davis. "I thought we
+should have a little family party; I haven't seen Arthur for a
+month."
+
+"There is some important reason," said Helen--"that's what he told
+me, anyway." She did not want her father to have any idea of the
+true reason, or to ask any inconvenient questions.
+
+Mr. Davis would perhaps have done so, had he not something else on
+his mind. "By the way, Helen," he said, "I must ask you, what in the
+world was that fearful noise you were making?"
+
+"Noise?" asked Helen, puzzled for a moment.
+
+"Why, yes; I met old Mr. Nelson coming down the street, and he said
+that you were making a most dreadful racket upon the piano, and
+shouting, too, and that there were a dozen people standing in the
+street, staring!"
+
+A sudden wild thought occurred to Helen, and she whirled about. Sure
+enough, she found the two windows of the room wide open; and that
+was too much for her gravity; she flung herself upon the sofa and
+gave vent to peal after peal of laughter.
+
+"Oh, Daddy!" she gasped. "Oh, Daddy!"
+
+Mr. Davis did not understand the joke, but he waited patiently,
+taking off his gloves in the meantime. "What it is, Helen?" he
+enquired.
+
+"Oh, Daddy!" exclaimed the girl again, and lifted herself up and
+turned her laughing eyes upon him. "And now I understand why
+inspired people have to live in the country!"
+
+"What was it, Helen?"
+
+"It--it wasn't anything, Daddy, except that I was playing and
+singing for Arthur, and I forgot to close the windows."
+
+"You must remember, my love, that you live in a clergyman's house,"
+said Mr. Davis. "I have no objection to merriment, but it must be
+within bounds. Mr. Nelson said that he did not know what to think
+was the matter."
+
+Helen made a wry face at the name; the Nelsons were a family of
+Methodists who lived across the way. Methodists are people who take
+life seriously as a rule, and Helen thought the Nelsons were very
+queer indeed.
+
+"I'll bet he did know what to think," she chuckled, "even if he
+didn't say it; he thought that was just what to expect from a
+clergyman who had a decanter of wine on his dinner table."
+
+Mr. Davis could not help smiling. And as for Helen, she was herself
+all over again; for when her father had come in, she had about
+reached a point where she could no longer bear to be serious and
+unhappy. As he went on to ask her to be a little less reckless,
+Helen put her arms around him and said, with the solemnity that she
+always wore when she was gayest: "But, Daddy, I don't know what I'm
+to do; you sent me to Germany to study music, and if I'm never to
+play it--"
+
+"Yes, but Helen; such frantic, dreadful noise!"
+
+"But, Daddy, the Germans are emotional people, you know; no one
+would have been in the least surprised at that in Germany; it was a
+hymn, Daddy!"
+
+"A hymn!" gasped Mr. Davis.
+
+"Yes, honestly," said Helen. "It is a wonderful hymn. Every German
+knows it nearly by heart."
+
+Mr. Davis had as much knowledge of German music as might be expected
+of one who had lived twenty years in the country and heard three
+hymns and an anthem sung every Sunday by a volunteer choir. Helen's
+musical education, as all her other education, had been
+superintended by Aunt Polly, and the only idea that came to Mr.
+Davis' mind was of Wagner, whose name he had heard people talk about
+in connection with noise and incoherency.
+
+"Helen," he said, "I trust that is not the kind of hymn you are
+going to sing to-morrow."
+
+"I don't know," was the puzzled reply. "I'll see what I can do,
+Daddy. It's dreadfully hard to find anything in German music like
+the slow-going, practical lives that we dull Yankees lead." Then a
+sudden idea occurred to the girl, and she ran to the piano with a
+gleeful laugh: "Just see, for instance," she said, fumbling
+hurriedly amongst her music, "I was playing the Moonlight Sonata
+this morning, and that's a good instance."
+
+"This is the kind of moonlight they have in Germany," she laughed
+when she found it. After hammering out a few discords of her own she
+started recklessly into the incomprehensible "presto," thundering
+away at every crescendo as if to break her fingers. "Isn't it fine,
+Daddy?" she cried, gazing over her shoulder.
+
+"I don't see what it has to do with the moon," said the clergyman,
+gazing helplessly at the open window, and wondering if another crowd
+was gathering.
+
+"That's what everybody's been trying to find out!" said Helen; then,
+as she heard the dinner bell out in the hall, she ended with half a
+dozen frantic runs, and jumping up with the last of them, took her
+father's arm and danced out of the room with him.
+
+"Perhaps when we come to see the other side of the moon," she said,
+"we may discover all about it. Or else it's because the moon is
+supposed to set people crazy." So they passed in to dinner, where
+Helen was as animated as ever, poor Arthur and his troubles seeming
+to have vanished completely from her thoughts.
+
+In fact, it was not until the meal was nearly over that she spoke of
+them again; she noticed that it was growing dark outside, and she
+stepped to the window just as a distant rumble of thunder was heard.
+
+"Dear me!" she exclaimed. "There's a fearful storm coming, and poor
+Arthur is out in it; he must be a long way from town by this time,
+and there is no house where he can go." From the window where she
+stood she had a view across the hills in back of the town, and could
+see the black clouds coming swiftly on. "It is like we were
+imagining this morning," she mused; "I wonder if he will think of
+it."
+
+The dinner was over soon after that, and she looked out again, just
+as the first drops of rain were falling; the thunder was rolling
+louder, bringing to Helen a faint echo of her morning music. She
+went in and sat down at the piano, her fingers roaming over the keys
+hesitatingly. "I wish I could get it again," she mused. "It seems
+like a dream when I think of it, it was so wild and so wonderful.
+Oh, if I could only remember that march!"
+
+There came a crash of thunder near by, as if to help her, but Helen
+found that all efforts were in vain. Neither the storm music nor the
+march came back to her, and even when she played a few chords of the
+great chorus she had sung, it sounded tame and commonplace. Helen
+knew that the glory of that morning was gone where goes the best
+inspiration of all humanity, back into nothingness and night.
+
+"It was a shame," she thought, as she rose discontentedly from the
+piano. "I never was so carried away by music in my life, and the
+memory of it would have kept me happy for weeks, if Arthur hadn't
+been here to trouble me!"
+
+Then, however, as she went to the window again to watch the storm
+which was now raging in all its majesty, she added more unselfishly:
+"Poor boy! It is dreadful to think of him being out in it." She saw
+a bolt of lightning strike in the distance, and she waited
+breathlessly for the thunder. It was a fearful crash, and it made
+her blood run faster, and her eyes sparkle. "My!" she exclaimed.
+"But it's fine!" And then she added with a laugh, "He can correct
+his poem by it, if he wants to!"
+
+She turned to go upstairs. On the way she stopped with a rather
+conscience-stricken look, and said to herself, "Poor fellow! It
+seems a shame to be happy!" She stood for a moment thinking, but
+then she added, "Yet I declare, I don't know what to do for him; it
+surely isn't my fault if I am not in love with him in that mad
+fashion, and I don't see why I should make myself wretched about
+it!" Having thus silenced her conscience, she went up to unpack her
+trunks, humming to herself on the way:
+
+  "Sir Knight, a faithful sister's love
+    This heart devotes to thee;
+  I pray thee ask no other love,
+    For pain that causes me.
+
+  "Quiet would I see thee come,
+    And quiet see thee go;
+  The silent weeping of thine eyes
+    I cannot bear to know."
+
+While she was singing Arthur was in the midst of the tempest,
+staggering towards his home ten miles away. He was drenched by the
+cold rain, and shivering and almost fainting from exhaustion--for he
+had eaten nothing since early dawn; yet so wretched and sick at
+heart was he that he felt nothing, and scarcely heard the storm or
+realized where he was.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+  "Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay?
+  Proputty, proputty, proputty--that's what I 'ears 'em saay.
+
+  But I knawed a Quaaker feller as often 'as towd ma this:
+  'Doant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!'"
+
+Helen had much to do to keep her busy during the next few days. She
+had in the first place to receive visits from nearly everybody in
+Oakdale, for she was a general favorite in the town, and besides
+that everyone was curious to see what effect the trip had had upon
+her beauty and accomplishments. Then too, she had the unpacking of
+an incredible number of trunks; it was true that Helen, having been
+a favored boarder at an aristocratic seminary, was not in the habit
+of doing anything troublesome herself, but she considered it
+necessary to superintend the servant. Last of all there was a great
+event at the house of her aunt, Mrs. Roberts, to be anticipated and
+prepared for.
+
+It has been said that the marriage of Mr. Davis had been a second
+romance in that worthy man's career, he having had the fortune to
+win the love of a daughter of a very wealthy family which lived near
+Oakdale. The parents had of course been bitterly opposed to the
+match, but the girl had had her way. Unfortunately, however, the
+lovers, or at any rate the bride, having been without any real idea
+of duty or sacrifice, the match had proved one of those that serve
+to justify the opinions of people who are "sensible;" the young
+wife, wearying of the lot she had chosen, had sunk into a state of
+peevish discontent from which death came to relieve her.
+
+Of this prodigal daughter Aunt Polly was the elder, and wiser,
+sister. She had never ceased to urge upon the other, both before and
+after marriage, the folly of her conduct, and had lived herself to
+be a proof of her own more excellent sense, having married a wealthy
+stockbroker who proved a good investment, trebling his own capital
+and hers in a few years. Aunt Polly therefore had a fine home upon
+Madison Avenue in New York, and a most aristocratic country-seat a
+few miles from Oakdale, together with the privilege of frequenting
+the best society in New York, and of choosing her friends amongst
+the most wealthy in the neighborhood of the little town. This
+superiority to her erring sister had probably been one of the causes
+that had contributed to develop the most prominent trait in her
+character--which is perhaps the most prominent trait of high society
+in general--a complete satisfaction with the world she knew, and
+what she knew about it, and the part she played in it. For the rest,
+Aunt Polly was one of those bustling little women who rule the world
+in almost everything, because the world finds it is too much trouble
+to oppose them. She had assumed, and had generally succeeded in
+having recognized, a complete superiority to Mr. Davis in her
+knowledge about life, with the result that, as has been stated, the
+education of the one child of the unfortunate marriage had been
+managed by her.
+
+When, therefore, Helen had come off the steamer, it had been Mrs.
+Roberts who was there to meet her; and the arrangement announced was
+that the girl was to have three days to spend with her father, and
+was then to come for a week or two at her aunt's, who was just
+opening her country home and who intended to invite a score of
+people whom she considered, for reasons of her own, proper persons
+for her niece to meet. Mrs. Roberts spoke very condescendingly
+indeed of the company which Helen met at her father's, Mr. Davis
+having his own opinions about the duty of a clergyman toward the
+non-aristocratic members of his flock.
+
+The arrangement, it is scarcely necessary to say, pleased Helen very
+much indeed; the atmosphere of luxury and easy superiority which she
+found at her aunt's was much to her taste, and she looked forward to
+being a center of attraction there with the keenest delight. In the
+meantime, however, she slaked her thirst for happiness just as well
+at Oakdale, accepting with queenly grace the homage of all who came
+to lay their presents at her feet. Sunday proved to be a day of
+triumph, for all the town had come to church, and was as much
+stirred by the glory of her singing as Arthur had predicted. After
+the service everyone waited to tell her about it, and so she was
+radiant indeed.
+
+By Tuesday, however, all that had come to seem a trifling matter,
+for that afternoon Aunt Polly was to come, and a new world was to be
+opened for her conquest. Helen was amusing herself by sorting out
+the motley collection of souvenirs and curios which she had brought
+home to decorate her room, when she heard a carriage drive up at the
+door, and a minute later heard the voice of Mrs. Roberts' footman in
+the hall.
+
+Mrs. Roberts herself did not alight, and Helen kept her waiting only
+long enough to slip on her hat, and to bid her father a hurried
+farewell. In a minute more she was in the carriage, and was being
+borne in state down the main street of Oakdale.
+
+"You are beautiful to-day, my dear," said her aunt, beaming upon
+her; "I hope you are all ready for your triumph."
+
+"I think so," said Helen. "I've about seen everybody and everything
+I wanted to at home; I've been wonderfully happy, Auntie."
+
+"That is right, my dear," said Aunt Polly. "You have certainly every
+cause to be, and you would be foolish not to make the most of it.
+But I should think this town would seem a somewhat less important
+place to you, after all that you have seen of the world."
+
+"Yes, it does a little," laughed Helen, "but it seemed good to see
+all the old people again."
+
+"Someone told me they saw Arthur here on Saturday," said the other.
+"Did you see _him?_"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Helen; "that's what he came for. You can fancy how
+glad I was to meet him. I spent a couple of hours walking in the
+woods with him."
+
+Mrs. Roberts' look of dismay may be imagined; it was far too great
+for her to hide.
+
+"Where is he now?" she asked, hastily.
+
+"Oh, he has gone home," said Helen; and she added, smiling, "he went
+on Saturday afternoon, because he's writing a poem about
+thunderstorms, and he wanted to study that one."
+
+The other was sufficiently convinced of the irresponsibility of
+poets to be half uncertain whether Helen was joking or not; it was
+very frequently difficult to tell, anyway, for Helen would look
+serious and amuse herself by watching another person's mystification--a
+trait of character which would have been intolerable in anyone less
+fascinating than she.
+
+Perhaps Aunt Polly thought something of that as she sat and watched
+the girl. Aunt Polly was a little woman who looked as if she herself
+might have once made some pretense to being a belle, but she was
+very humble before Helen. "My dear," she said, "every minute that I
+watch you, I am astonished to see how wonderfully you have grown. Do
+you know, Helen, you are glorious!"
+
+"Yes," said Helen, smiling delightedly. "Isn't it nice, Aunt Polly?
+I'm so glad I'm beautiful."
+
+"You funny child," laughed the other. "What a queer thing to say!"
+
+"Am I not to know I am beautiful?" inquired Helen, looking at her
+with open eyes. "Why, dear me! I can look at myself in the glass and
+be just as happy as anyone else; I love everything beautiful."
+
+Aunt Polly beamed upon her. "I am glad of it, my dear," she laughed.
+"I only wish I could say something to you to make you realize what
+your wonderful beauty means."
+
+"How, Aunt Polly?" asked the girl. "Have you been reading poetry?"
+
+"No," said the other, "not exactly; but you know very well in your
+heart what hopes I have for you, Helen, and I only wish you could
+appreciate the gift that has been given you, and not fling it away
+in any foolish fashion. With your talents and your education, my
+dear, there is almost nothing that you might not do."
+
+"Yes," said Helen, with all of her seriousness, "I often think of
+it; perhaps, Auntie, I might become a poetess!"
+
+The other looked aghast. Helen had seen the look on her aunt's face
+at the mention of her walk with Arthur, and being a young lady of
+electrical wit, had understood just what it meant, and just how the
+rest of the conversation was intended to bear upon the matter; with
+that advantage she was quite in her glory.
+
+"No, indeed, Aunt Polly," she said, "you can never tell; just
+suppose, for instance, I were to fall in love with and marry a man
+of wonderful genius, who would help me to devote myself to art? It
+would not make any difference, you know, if he were poor--we could
+struggle and help each other. And oh, I tell you, if I were to meet
+such a man, and to know that he loved me truly, and to have proof
+that he could remember me and be true to me, even when I was far
+away, oh, I tell you, nothing could ever keep me--"
+
+Helen was declaiming her glowing speech with real fervor, her hands
+dramatically outstretched. But she could not get any further, for
+the look of utter horror upon her auditor's face was too much for
+her; she dropped her hands and made the air echo with her laughter.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Polly, you goose!" she cried, flinging one arm about her,
+"have you really forgotten me that much in three years?"
+
+The other was so relieved at the happy denouement of that fearful
+tragedy that she could only protest, "Helen, Helen, why do you fool
+me so?"
+
+"Because you fool me, or try to," said Helen. "When you have a
+sermon to preach on the impropriety of walking in the woods alone
+with a susceptible young poet, I wish you'd mount formally into the
+pulpit and begin with the text."
+
+"My dear," laughed the other, "you are too quick; but I must
+confess--"
+
+"Of course you must," said the girl; and she folded her hands meekly
+and looked grave. "And now I am ready; and if you meet with any
+difficulties in the course of your sermon, I've an expert at home
+who has preached one hundred and four every year for twenty years,
+all genuine and no two alike."
+
+"Helen," said the other, "I do wish you would talk seriously with
+me. You are old enough to be your own mistress now, and to do as you
+please, but you ought to realize that I have seen the world more
+than you, and that my advice is worth something."
+
+"Tell it to me," said Helen, ceasing to laugh, and leaning back in
+the carriage and gazing at her aunt. "What do you want me to do, now
+that I am home? I will be really serious if you wish me to, for that
+does interest me. I suppose that my education is finished?"
+
+"Yes," said the other, "it ought to be, certainly; you have had
+every advantage that a girl can have, a great deal more than I ever
+had. And you owe it all to me, Helen,--you do, really; if it hadn't
+been for my insisting you'd have gotten all your education at
+Hilltown, and you'd have played the piano and sung like Mary Nelson
+across the way."
+
+Helen shuddered, and felt that that was cause indeed for gratitude.
+
+"It is true," said her aunt; "I've taken as much interest in you as
+in any one of my own children, and you must know it. It was for no
+reason at all but that I saw what a wonderful woman you promised to
+become, and I was anxious to help you to the social position that I
+thought you ought to have. And now, Helen, the chance is yours if
+you care to take it."
+
+"I am taking it, am I not?" asked Helen; "I'm going with you, and I
+shall be just as charming as I can."
+
+"Yes, I know," said the other, smiling a little; "but that is not
+exactly what I mean."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Of course, my dear, you may enter good society a while by visiting
+me; but that will not be permanently. You will have to marry into
+it, Helen dear."
+
+"Marry!" echoed the girl, taken aback. "Dear me!"
+
+"You will wish to marry some time," said the other, "and so you
+should look forward to it and choose your course. With your charms,
+Helen, there is almost nothing that you might not hope for; you must
+know yourself that you could make any man fall in love with you that
+you wished. And you ought to know also that if you only had wealth
+you could enter any society; for you have good birth, and you will
+discover that you have more knowledge and more wit than most of the
+people you meet."
+
+"I've discovered that already," said Helen, laughing.
+
+"All that you must do, my love," went on the other, "is to realize
+what is before you, and make up your mind to what you want. You know
+that your tastes are not those of a poor woman; you have been
+accustomed to comfort, and you need refinement and wealth; you could
+never be happy unless you could entertain your friends properly, and
+live as you pleased."
+
+"But I don't want to marry a man just for his money," protested the
+girl, not altogether pleased with her aunt's business-like view.
+
+"No one wants you to," the other responded; "you may marry for love
+if you like; but it is not impossible to love a rich man, is it,
+Helen?"
+
+"But, Aunt Polly," said Helen, "I am satisfied as I am now. I do not
+want to marry anybody. The very idea makes me shudder."
+
+"I am not in the least anxious that you should," was the answer.
+"You are young, and you may choose your own time. All I am anxious
+for is that you should realize the future that is before you. It is
+dreadful to me to think that you might throw your precious chance
+away by some ridiculous folly."
+
+Helen looked at her aunt for a moment, and then the irrepressible
+smile broke out.
+
+"What is the matter, child?" asked the other.
+
+"Nothing, except that I was thinking about how these thoughts were
+brought up."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Apropos of my woodland walk with poor Arthur. Auntie, I do believe
+you're afraid I'm going to fall in love with the dear fellow."
+
+"No," said Aunt Polly; "it is not exactly that, for I'd never be
+able to sleep at night if I thought you capable of anything quite so
+ghastly. But we must have some care of what people will think, my
+dear Helen."
+
+As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly did have some very serious fears
+about the matter, as has been hinted before; it was, perhaps, a kind
+of tribute to the divine fire which even society's leaders pay. If
+it had been a question of a person of her own sense and experience,
+the word "genius" would have suggested no danger to Mrs. Roberts,
+but it was different with a young and probably sentimental person
+like Helen, with her inflaming beauty.
+
+"As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly," said Helen, "everybody
+understands my intimacy with Arthur."
+
+"Tell me, Helen dear," said the other, turning her keen glance upon
+her; "tell me the honest truth."
+
+"About what?"
+
+"You are not in love with Arthur?"
+
+And Helen answered her with her eyes very wide open: "No, I
+certainly am not in the least."
+
+And the other drew secretly a great breath of relief. "Is he in love
+with you, Helen?" she asked.
+
+As Helen thought of Arthur's departure, the question could not but
+bring a smile. "I--I'm afraid he is," she said.--"a very little."
+
+"What a ridiculous impertinence!" exclaimed the other, indignantly.
+
+"Oh, that's all right, Auntie," said Helen; "he really can't help
+it, you know." She paused for a moment, and then she went on: "Such
+things used to puzzle me when I was very young, and I used to think
+them quite exciting; but I'm getting used to them now. All the men
+seem to fall in love with me,--they do, honestly, and I don't know
+how in the world to help it. They all will make themselves wretched,
+and I'm sure it isn't my fault. I haven't told you anything about my
+German lovers, have I, Auntie?"
+
+"Gracious, no!" said the other; "were there any?"
+
+"Any?" laughed the girl. "I might have robbed the Emperor of a whole
+colonel's staff, and the colonel at the head of it. But I'll tell
+you about Johann, the funniest one of all; I think he really loved
+me more than all the rest."
+
+"Pray, who was Johann?" asked Aunt Polly, thinking how fortunate it
+was that she learned of these things only after the danger was over.
+
+"I never will forget the first time I met him," laughed the girl,
+"the first day I went to the school. Johann was a little boy who
+opened the door for me, and he stared at me as if he were in a
+trance; he had the most wonderful round eyes, and puffy red cheeks
+that made me always think I'd happened to ring the bell while he was
+eating; and every time after that he saw me for three years he used
+to gaze at me in the same helpless wonder, with all lingers of his
+fat little hands wide apart."
+
+"What a disagreeable wretch!" said the other.
+
+"Not in the least," laughed Helen; "I liked him. But the funniest
+part came afterwards, for when I came away Johann had grown a whole
+foot, and was quite a man. I sent for him to put the straps on my
+trunks, and guess what he did! He stared at me for a minute, just
+the same as ever, and then he ran out of the room, blubbering like a
+baby; and that's the last I ever saw of him."
+
+Helen was laughing as she told the story, but then she stopped and
+looked a little conscience-stricken. "Do you know, Aunt Polly," she
+said, "it is really a dreadful thing to make people unhappy like
+that; I suppose poor Johann had spent three whole years dreaming
+about the enchanted castle in which I was to be fairy princess."
+
+"It was a good chance for a romantic marriage," said the other.
+
+"Yes," said the girl, laughing again; "I tried to fancy it. He'd
+have kept a Wirthshaus, I suppose, and I'd have served the guests;
+and Arthur might have come, and I'd have cut Butterbrod for him and
+he could have been my Werther! Wouldn't Arthur have made a fine
+Werther, though, Aunt Polly?"
+
+"And blown his brains out afterwards," added the other.
+
+"No," said Helen, "brains are too scarce; I'd rather have him follow
+Goethe's example and write a book about it instead. You know I don't
+believe half the things these poets tell you, for I think they put
+themselves through their dreadful experiences just to tell about
+them and make themselves famous. Don't you believe that, Auntie?"
+
+"I don't know," said the other (a statement which she seldom made).
+"I don't know much about such things. Nobody reads poetry any more,
+you know, Helen, and it doesn't really help one along very much."
+
+"It doesn't do any harm, does it?" inquired the girl, smiling to
+herself, "just a little, once in a while?"
+
+"Oh, no, of course not," said the other; "I believe that a woman
+ought to have a broad education, for she never knows what may be the
+whims of the men she meets, or what turn a conversation may take.
+All I'm afraid of, Helen, is that if you fill your mind with
+sentimental ideas you might be so silly as to fancy that you were
+doing something romantic in throwing your one great chance away upon
+some worthless nobody. I want you to realize what you are, Helen,
+and that you owe something to yourself, and to your family, too; for
+the Roberts have always had wealth and position until your mother
+chose to marry a poor man. What I warn you of now is exactly what I
+warned her of. Your father is a good man, but he had absolutely
+nothing to make your mother happy; she was cut off from everything
+she had been used to,--she could not even keep a carriage. And of
+course she could not receive her old friends, very few of them cared
+to have anything more to do with her, and so she simply pined away
+in discontentment and miserable poverty. You have had an easy life,
+Helen, and you have no idea of what a horrible thing it is to be
+poor; you have had the best of teachers, and you have lived at an
+expensive school, and of course you have always had me to rely upon
+to introduce you to the right people; but if you married a poor man
+you couldn't expect to keep any of those advantages. I don't speak
+of your marrying a man who had no money at all, for that would be
+too fearful to talk about; but suppose you were to take any one of
+the young men you might meet at Oakdale even, you'd have to live in
+a mean little house, and do with one or two servants, and worry
+yourself about the butcher's bills and brush your own dresses and
+drive your own horse. And how long do you suppose it would be before
+you repented of that? Think of having to be like those poor Masons,
+for instance; they are nice people, and I like them, but I hate to
+go there, for every time I can't help seeing that the parlor
+furniture is more dingy, and thinking how miserable they must be,
+not to be able to buy new things. And their servants' liveries are
+half worn too; and when you dine there you see that Mrs. Mason is
+eating with a plated fork, because she has not enough of her best
+silver to go around. All those things are trifles, Helen, but think
+of the worry they must give those poor people, who are pinching
+themselves and wearing themselves out soul and body, trying to keep
+in the station where they belong, or used to. Poor Mrs. Mason is
+pale and nervous and wrinkled at forty, and those three poor girls,
+who spend their time making over their old dresses, are so
+dowdy-looking and uneasy that no man ever glances at them twice.
+It is such misery as that which I dread for you, Helen, and why I am
+talking to you. There is no reason why you should take upon you such
+sorrows; you have a clear head, and you can think for yourself and
+make up your mind about things if you only won't blind yourself by
+foolish sentimentality. You have been brought up to a certain
+station in life, and no man has a right to offer himself to you
+unless he can maintain you in that station. There is really no
+scarcity of such men, Helen, and you'd have no trouble in finding
+one. There are hundreds of men in New York who are worth millions,
+and who would fling themselves and their wealth at your feet if you
+would have them. And you would find such a difference between the
+opportunities of pleasure and command that such a chance would give
+you and the narrow life that you lead in this little town that you
+would wonder how you could ever have been satisfied. It is difficult
+for you to realize what I mean, my dear, because you have only a
+schoolgirl's knowledge of life and its pleasures, but when you are
+in the world, and have learned what power is, and what it means to
+possess such beauty as yours, you will feel your heart swelling with
+a new pleasure, and you will thank me for what I tell you. I have
+figured a wonderful triumph for you, Helen, and it is time you knew
+what is before you. Of what use is your beauty, if you do not carry
+it into a wide enough sphere, where it can bring you the admiration
+and homage you deserve? You need such a field, Helen, to discover
+your own powers in; believe me, my dear, there is really a higher
+ambition in the world than to be a country clergyman's daughter."
+
+"Is there any higher than being happy, Auntie?" asked Helen.
+
+The importance of that observation was beyond the other's ken, as
+indeed it was beyond Helen's also; she had thrown it out as a chance
+remark.
+
+"Mr. Roberts and I were talking about this last night," went on Aunt
+Polly, "and he told me that I ought to talk seriously to you about
+it, and get you to realize what a golden future is before you. For
+it is really true, Helen, as sure as you can trust what I know about
+the world, that you can have absolutely anything that you want. That
+is the long and short of the matter--anything that you want! And why
+should you not have the very best that life can give you? Why should
+you have to know that other people dwell in finer houses than yours,
+and are free from cares that make you ill? Why should you have the
+humiliation of being looked down upon and scorned by other people?
+Are these other people more entitled to luxury than you, or more
+able to enjoy it; or could anyone do it more honor than you? You are
+beautiful beyond telling; you have every gift that a woman can ask
+to complete enjoyment of life; you are perfect, Helen, you are
+really perfect! You _must_ know that; you must say it to yourself
+when you are alone, and know that your life ought to be a queenly
+triumph. You have only to stretch out your arms and everything will
+come to you; and there is really and truly no end to the happiness
+you can taste."
+
+Helen was gazing at the other with real earnestness, and the words
+were sinking deep into her soul, deeper than words generally sunk
+there. She felt her cheeks burning, and her frame stirred by a new
+emotion; she had seldom before thought of anything but the happiness
+of the hour.
+
+"Just think of it, my love," continued Mrs. Roberts, "and know that
+that is what your old auntie was thinking of when you were only a
+little tiny girl, sitting upon her knee, and when you were so
+beautiful that artists used to beg to have you pose for them. I
+never said anything about it then, because you were too young to
+understand these things; but now that you are to manage yourself, I
+have been waiting for a chance to tell you, so that you may see what
+a prize is yours if you are only wise. And if you wonder why I have
+cared so much and thought so much of what might be yours, the only
+reason I can give is that you are my niece, and that I felt that any
+triumph you might win would be mine. I want you to win a higher
+place in the world than mine, Helen; I never had such a gift as
+yours."
+
+Helen was silent for a minute, deeply thoughtful.
+
+"Tell me, Auntie," she asked, "and is it really true, then, that a
+woman is to train herself and grow beautiful and to have so much
+trouble and money spent upon her--only for her marriage?"
+
+"Why of course, Helen; what else can a woman do? Unless you have
+money and a husband you cannot possibly hope to accomplish anything
+in society. With your talents and your beauty you might go anywhere
+and rule anywhere, but you have to have money before you can even
+begin."
+
+"But where am I to meet such a rich man, Aunt Polly?" asked Helen.
+
+"You know perfectly well where. Do you suppose that after I have
+worried myself about you all this time I mean to desert you now,
+when you are at the very climax of your glory, when you are all that
+I ever dared dream of? My dear Helen, I am more interested in you
+just now than in anything else in the world. I feel as a card player
+feels when millions are at stake, and when he knows that he holds
+the perfect hand."
+
+"That is very nice," said Helen, laughing nervously. "But there is
+always a chance of mistake."
+
+"There is none this time, Helen, for I am an old player, and I have
+been picking and arranging my hand for long, long years; and you are
+the hand, my love, and the greatest glory of it all must be yours."
+
+Helen's heart was throbbing still faster with excitement, as if she
+were already tasting the wonderful triumph that was before her; her
+aunt was watching her closely, noting how the blood was mounting to
+her bright cheeks. The girl felt herself suddenly choking with her
+pent up excitement, and she stretched out her arms with a strange
+laugh.
+
+"Auntie," she said, "you tell me too much at once."
+
+The other had been marshaling her forces like a general during the
+last few minutes, and she felt just then as if there were nothing
+left but the rout. "All that I tell you, you may see for yourself,"
+she said. "I don't ask you to take anything on my word, for you have
+only to look in the glass and compare yourself with the women you
+meet. You will find that all men will turn their eyes upon you when
+you enter a room."
+
+Helen did not consider it necessary to debate that question. "You
+have invited some rich man to meet me at your house?" she asked.
+
+"I was going to say nothing to you about it at first," said the
+other, "and let you find out. But I thought afterwards that it would
+be better to tell you, so that you could manage for yourself. I have
+invited all the men whom Mr. Roberts and I thought it would be best
+for you to meet."
+
+Helen gazed at her aunt silently for a moment, and then she broke
+into a nervous laugh. "A regular exposition!" she said; "and you'll
+bring them out one by one and put them through their paces, won't
+you, Auntie? And have them labeled for comparison,--so that I can
+tell just what stocks they own and how they stand on the 'Street'!
+Do you remember the suitor in Moliere?--_'J'ai quinze mille livres
+de rente; j'ai le corps sain; j'ai des beaux dents!_'"
+
+It was a flash of Helen's old merriment, but it did not seem so
+natural as usual, even to her. She forced herself to laugh, for she
+was growing more and more excited and uneasy.
+
+"My dear," said Aunt Polly, "please do not begin making fun again."
+
+"But you must let me joke a little, Auntie," said the girl. "I have
+never been serious for so long before."
+
+"You ought to be serious about it, my dear."
+
+"I will," said Helen. "I have really listened attentively; you must
+tell me all about these rich men that I am to meet, and what I am to
+do. I hope I am not the only girl."
+
+"Of course not," was the response; "I would not do anything
+ridiculous. I have invited a number of other girls--but they won't
+trouble you in the least."
+
+"No," said Helen. "I am not afraid of other girls; but what's to be
+done? It's a sort of house-warming, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes," was the reply, "I suppose so, for I only came down last week
+myself. I have asked about twenty people for a week or two; they all
+know each other, more or less, so there won't be much formality. We
+shall amuse ourselves with coaching and golf, and anything else we
+please; and of course there will be plenty of music in the evening."
+
+Helen smiled at the significant tone of her aunt's voice. "Are the
+people there now?" she asked.
+
+"Those who live anywhere in the neighborhood are; most of the men
+will be down on the afternoon train, in time for dinner."
+
+"And tell me who are the men, Auntie?"
+
+"I'm afraid I won't have time," said Mrs. Roberts, glancing out of
+the carriage. "We are too near home. But I will tell you about one
+of them, if you like."
+
+"The king-bee?" laughed Helen. "Is there a king-bee?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Roberts; "there is. At any rate, my husband and I
+think he is, and we are anxious to see what you think. His name is
+Gerald Harrison, and he comes from Cincinnati."
+
+"Oh, dear," said Helen, "I hate to meet men from the West. He must
+be a pork-packer, or something horrible."
+
+"No," said the other, "he is a railroad president."
+
+"And why do you think he's the king-bee; is he very rich?"
+
+"He is worth about ten million dollars," said Aunt Polly.
+
+Helen gazed at her wildly. "Ten million dollars!" she gasped.
+
+"Yes," said the other; "about that, probably a little more. Mr.
+Roberts knows all about his affairs."
+
+Helen was staring into her aunt's face. "Tell me," she asked, very
+nervously indeed. "Tell me, honestly!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Is that the man you are bringing me here to meet?"
+
+"Yes, Helen," said the other quietly.
+
+The girl's hands were clasped tightly together just then. "Aunt
+Polly," she asked, "what kind of a man is he? I will not marry a bad
+man!"
+
+"A bad man, child? How ridiculous! Do you suppose I would ask you to
+marry a bad man, if he owned all New York? I want you to be happy.
+Mr. Harrison is a man who has made his own fortune, and he is a man
+of tremendous energy. Everyone is obliged to respect him."
+
+"But he must be old, Auntie."
+
+"He is very young, Helen, only about forty."
+
+"Dear me," said the girl, "I could never marry a man as old as
+forty; and then, I'd have to go out West!"
+
+"Mr. Harrison has come to New York to live," was the other's reply.
+"He has just bought a really magnificent country seat about ten
+miles from here--the old Everson place, if you remember it; and he
+is negotiating for a house near ours in the city. My husband and I
+both agreed, Helen, that if you could make Mr. Harrison fall in love
+with you it would be all that we could desire."
+
+"That is not the real problem," Helen said, gazing out of the
+carriage with a frightened look upon her face; "it is whether I can
+fall in love with him. Aunt Polly, it is dreadful to me to think of
+marrying; I don't want to marry! I don't care who the man is!"
+
+"We'll see about that later on," said the other, smiling
+reassuringly, and at the same time putting her arm about the girl;
+"there is no hurry, my love, and no one has the least thought of
+asking you to do what you do not want to do. But a chance like this
+does not come often to any girl, my dear. Mr. Harrison is in every
+way a desirable man."
+
+"But he's stupid, Aunt Polly, I know he's stupid! All self-made men
+are; they tell you about how they made themselves, and what
+wonderful things they hare made!"
+
+"You must of course not expect to find Mr. Harrison as cultured as
+yourself, Helen," was the reply; "his education has been that of the
+world, and not of books. But nobody thinks less of a man for that in
+the world; the most one can ask is that he does not make pretenses.
+And he is very far from stupid, I assure you, or he would not have
+been what he is."
+
+"I suppose not," said Helen, weakly.
+
+"And, besides," observed Aunt Polly, laughing to cheer the girl up,
+"I assure you it doesn't make any difference. My husband makes no
+pretense to being a wit, or a musician, or anything like that; he's
+just a plain, sensible man, but we get along as happily as you could
+wish. We each of us go our own way, and understand each other
+perfectly."
+
+"So I'm to marry a plain, sensible man?" asked the girl, apparently
+not much comforted by the observation.
+
+"A plain, sensible man with ten million dollars, my dear," said Aunt
+Polly, "who adores you and has nothing to do with his money but to
+let you make yourself happy and glorious with it? But don't worry
+yourself, my child, because the first thing for you to feel is that
+if you don't like him you need not take him. It all rests upon you;
+he won't be here till after the rest, till the evening train, so you
+can have time to think it over and calculate whether ten million
+dollars will buy anything you want." And Mrs. Roberts laughed.
+
+Then the carriage having passed within the gates of her home, she
+kissed the girl upon her cheek. "By the way," she added, "if you
+want to meet a romantic person to offset Mr. Harrison, I'll tell you
+about Mr. Howard. I haven't mentioned him, have I?"
+
+"I never heard of him," said Helen.
+
+"It's a real romance," said the other. "You didn't suppose that your
+sensible old auntie could have a romance, did you?"
+
+"Tell me about it," laughed Helen.
+
+The carriage was driving up the broad avenue that led to the Roberts
+house; it was a drive of a minute or two, however, and so Aunt Polly
+had time for a hasty explanation.
+
+"It was over twenty years ago," she said, "before your mother was
+married, and when our family had a camp up in the Adirondacks; there
+were only two others near us, and in each of them there was a young
+man about my age. We three were great friends for three or four
+years, but we've never seen each other since till a short while
+ago."
+
+"And one of them is this man?"
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Roberts; "his name is David Howard; I met him quite
+by accident the other day, and recognized him. He lives all alone,
+in the winter in New York somewheres, and in the summer up at the
+same place in the mountains; he's the most romantic man you ever
+met, and I know you'll find him interesting. He's a poet, I fancy,
+or a musician at any rate, and he's a very great scholar."
+
+"Is he rich too?" asked the girl, laughing.
+
+"I fancy not," was the reply, "but I can't tell; he lives very
+plainly."
+
+"Aren't you afraid I'll fall in love with him, Auntie?"
+
+"No," said the other, smiling to herself; "I'm not worrying about
+that."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Wait till you see him, my dear," was the reply; "if you choose him
+for a husband I'll give my consent."
+
+"That sounds mysterious," observed the girl, gazing at her aunt;
+"tell me, is he here now?"
+
+"Yes," said Aunt Polly; "he's been here a day or two; but I don't
+think you'll see him at dinner, because he has been feeling unwell
+today; he may be down a while this evening, for I've been telling
+him about you, and he's anxious to see you. You must be nice to him,
+Helen, and try to feel as sorry for him as I do."
+
+"Sorry for him?" echoed the girl with a start.
+
+"Yes, my dear, he is an invalid, with some very dreadful
+affliction."
+
+And Helen stared at her aunt. "An affliction!" she cried. "Aunt
+Polly, that is horrible! What in the world did you invite an invalid
+for at this time, with all the other people? I _hate_ invalids!"
+
+"I had asked him before," was the apologetic reply, "and so I
+couldn't help it. I had great difficulty in getting him to promise
+to come anyway, for he's a very strange, solitary man. But I wanted
+to have my little romance, and renew our acquaintance, and this was
+the only time the third party could come."
+
+"Oh, the third one is here too?"
+
+"He will be in a day or two."
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+"His name is Lieutenant Maynard, and he's in the navy; he's
+stationed at Brooklyn just now, but he expects to get leave for a
+while."
+
+"That is a little better," Helen remarked, as the carriage was
+drawing up in front of the great house. "I'd marry a naval officer."
+
+"No," laughed Aunt Polly; "he leaves a wife and some children in
+Brooklyn. We three are going to keep to ourselves and talk about old
+times and what has happened to us since then, and so you young folks
+will not be troubled by us."
+
+"I hope you will," said the other, "for I can't ever be happy with
+invalids."
+
+And there, as the carriage door was opened, the conversation ended
+abruptly. When Helen had sprung out she found that there were six or
+eight people upon the piazza, to whom the excitement of being
+introduced drove from her mind for a time all thoughts which her
+aunt's words had brought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+  "If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me,
+    Without my stir."
+
+Most of the people whom Helen met upon her arrival were of her own
+sex, so that she did not feel called upon to make special exertions
+to please them; but she was naturally cheerful and happy with
+everyone, and the other matters of which Mrs. Roberts had talked
+took on such vast proportions before her mind that it was a relief
+to her to put them aside and enjoy herself for a while in her usual
+way. Helen was glad that most of the men were to arrive later, so
+that she might make her appearance before them under the most
+favorable circumstances. When she heard the distant whistle of the
+afternoon train a couple of hours later, it was with that thought
+that she retired to her room to rest before dressing.
+
+Aunt Polly, following her plan of accustoming the girl to a proper
+style of living, had engaged a maid to attend her during her stay;
+and Helen found therefore that her trunks were unpacked and
+everything in order. It was a great relief to her to be rid of all
+care, and she took off her dress and flung herself down upon the bed
+to think.
+
+Helen had imbided during her Sunday-school days the usual formulas
+of dogmatic religion, but upon matters of morality her ideas were of
+the vaguest possible description. The guide of her life had always
+been her instinct for happiness, her "genial sense of youth." She
+had never formulated any rule of life to herself, but that which she
+sought was joy, primarily for herself, and incidentally for other
+people, because unhappy people were disturbing (unless it were
+possible to avoid them). In debating within herself the arguments
+which her aunt had brought before her mind, it was that principle
+chiefly by which she tested them.
+
+To the girl's eager nature, keenly sensitive to pleasure and greedy
+for it, the prospect so suddenly flung wide before her eyes was so
+intoxicating that again and again as she thought of it it made her
+tremble and burn. So far as Helen could see at that moment, a
+marriage with this Mr. Harrison would mean the command of every
+source of happiness; and upon a scale so magnificent, so belittling
+of everything she had known before, that she shrank from it as
+something impossible and unnatural. Again and again she buried her
+heated brow in her hands and muttered: "I ought to have known it
+before! I ought to have had time to realize it."
+
+That which restrained the girl from welcoming such an opportunity,
+from clasping it to her in ecstasy and flinging herself madly into
+the whirl of pleasure it held out, was not so much her conscience
+and the ideals which she had formed more or less vaguely from the
+novels and poems she had read, as the instinct of her maidenhood,
+which made her shrink from the thought of marriage with a man whom
+she did not love. So strong was this feeling in her that at first
+she felt that she could not even bear to be introduced to him with
+such an idea in her mind.
+
+It was Aunt Polly's wisdom and diplomacy which finally overcame her
+scruples enough to persuade her to that first step; Helen kept
+thinking of her aunt's words--that no one wanted to compel her to
+marry the man, that she might do just as she chose. She argued that
+it was foolish to worry herself, or to be ill at ease. She might see
+what sort of a man he was; if he fell in love with her it would do
+no harm,--Helen was not long in discovering by the increased pace of
+her pulses that she would find it exciting to have everyone know
+that a multimillionaire was in love with her. "As for the rest," she
+said to herself, "we'll see when the time comes," and knew not that
+one who goes to front his life's temptation with that resolution is
+a mariner who leaves the steering of his vessel to the tempest.
+
+She had stilled her objection by such arguments, and was just
+beginning to feel the excitement of the prospect once more, when the
+maid knocked at the door and asked to know if mademoiselle were
+ready to dress for dinner. And mademoiselle arose and bathed her
+face and arms and was once more her old refreshed and rejoicing
+self, ready for that mysterious and wonderful process which was to
+send her out an hour or two later a vision of perfectness,
+compounded of the hues of the rose and the odors of evening, with
+the new and unutterable magic that is all the woman's own. Besides
+the prospects her aunt had spoken of, there were reasons enough why
+Helen should be radiant, for it was her first recognized appearance
+in high society; and so she sat in front of the tall mirror and
+criticised every detail of the coiffure which the maid prepared, and
+eyed by turns her gleaming neck and shoulders and the wonderful
+dress, as yet unworn, which shone from the bed through its covering
+of tissue paper; and was all the time so filled with joy and delight
+that it was a pleasure to be near her. Soon Aunt Polly, clad in
+plain black as a sign that she retired in favor of Helen, came in to
+assist and superintend the toilet. So serious at the task, and so
+filled with a sense of its importance and the issues that were
+staked upon it was she and the maid also, that one would not dare
+think of the humor of the situation if Helen herself had not broken
+the spell by declaring that she felt like an Ashantee warrior being
+decked out for battle with plumes and war paint, or like Rinaldo, or
+Amadis donning his armor.
+
+And Helen was in fact going to war, a war for which nature has been
+training woman since the first fig-tree grew. She carried a bow
+strong as the one of Ulysses, which no man could draw, and an arrow
+sharp as the sunbeam and armed with a barb; for a helmet, beside her
+treasure of golden hair, she wore one rose, set there with the art
+that conceals art, so that it was no longer a red rose, but one more
+bright perfection that had come to ripeness about the glowing
+maiden. Her dress was of the same color, a color which when worn
+upon a woman is a challenge, crying abroad that here is perfection
+beyond envy and beyond praise.
+
+When the last touch was finished and Helen gazed upon herself, with
+her bare shoulders and arms and her throat so soft and white, she
+knew that she was, compared to all about her, a vision from another
+world. Chiefest of all, she knew that neither arms and shoulders,
+nor robe, nor gleaming hair, would ever be thought of when once the
+face that smiled upon her with its serene perfectness had caught the
+eye; she knew that as usual, men must start when they saw her, and
+never take their eyes from her. The thought filled her with an
+exulting consciousness of power, and reared her form with a new
+dignity, and made her chest heave and her cheeks burn with yet a new
+beauty.
+
+When everything was ready, Aunt Polly's husband was called in to
+gaze upon her. A little man was Aunt Polly's husband, with black
+side whiskers and a head partly bald; a most quiet and unobtrusive
+person, looking just what he had been represented,--a "plain,
+sensible man," who attended to his half of the family affairs, and
+left the other half to his wife. He gazed upon Helen and blinked
+once or twice, as if blinded by so much beauty, and then took the
+end of her fingers very lightly in his and pronounced her
+"absolutely perfect." "And, my dear," he added, "it's after seven,
+so perhaps we'd best descend."
+
+So he led the girl down to her triumph, to the handsome parlors of
+the house where eight or ten men were strolling about. It was quite
+exciting to Helen to meet them, for they were all strangers, and
+Aunt Polly had apparently considered Mr. Harrison of so much
+importance that she had said nothing about the others, leaving her
+niece at liberty to make what speculations she pleased.
+
+It was a brilliant company which was seated in the dining room a
+short while later. As it was assembled in Helen's honor, Aunt Polly
+had taken care to bring those who would please the girl, and
+represent high life and luxury at its best; all of the guests were
+young, and therefore perfect. The members of the "smart set," when
+they have passed the third decade, are apt to show signs of
+weariness; a little of their beauty and health is gone, and some of
+their animation, and all of their joy,--so that one may be led to
+ask himself if there be not really something wrong about their views
+and ways of living. When they are young, however, they represent the
+possibilities of the human animal in all things external. In some
+wonderful way known only to themselves they have managed to
+manipulate the laws of men so as to make men do for them all the
+hard and painful tasks of life, so that they have no care but to
+make themselves as beautiful and as clever and as generally
+excellent as selfishness can be. Helen, of course, was not in the
+least troubled about the selfishness, and she was quite satisfied
+with externals. She saw about her perfect toilets and perfect
+manners; she saw everyone as happy as she liked everyone to be; and
+the result was that her spirits took fire, and she was clever and
+fascinating beyond even herself. She carried everything before her,
+and performed the real feat of dominating the table by her beauty
+and cleveness, without being either presumptuous or vain. Aunt Polly
+replied to the delighted looks of her husband at the other end of
+the table, and the two only wished that Mr. Harrison had been there
+then.
+
+As a matter of fact, Helen had forgotten Mr. Harrison entirely, and
+he did not come back to her mind until the dinner was almost over,
+when suddenly she heard the bell ring. It was just the time that he
+was due to arrive, and so she knew that she would see him in another
+half hour. In the exultation of the present moment all of her
+hesitation was gone, and she was as ready to meet him as her aunt
+could have wished.
+
+When the party rose a few minutes later and went into the parlors
+again, Helen was the first to enter, upon the arm of her neighbor.
+She was thinking of Mr. Harrison; and as she glanced about her, she
+could not keep from giving a slight start. Far down at the other end
+of the room she had caught sight of the figure of a man, and her
+first thought had been that it must be the millionaire. His frail,
+slender form was more than half concealed by the cushions of the
+sofa upon which he was seated, but even so, Helen could discover
+that he was a slight cripple.
+
+The man rose as the party entered, and Aunt Polly went towards him;
+she apparently expected her niece to follow and be introduced to the
+stranger, but in the meantime the truth had occurred to Helen, that
+it must be the Mr. Howard she had been told of; she turned to one
+side with her partner, and began remarking the pictures in the room.
+
+When she found opportunity, she glanced over and saw that the man
+had seated himself on the sofa and was talking to Mrs. Roberts. He
+looked, as Helen thought, all the invalid her aunt had described him
+to be, for his face was white and very wan, so that it made her
+shudder. "Dear me!" she exclaimed to herself, "I don't think such a
+man ought to go into public." And she turned resolutely away, and
+set herself to the task of forgetting him, which she very easily
+did.
+
+A merry party was soon gathered about her, rejoicing in the glory of
+her presence, and listening to the stories which she told of her
+adventures in Europe. Helen kept the circle well in hand that way,
+and was equally ready when one of the young ladies turned the
+conversation off upon French poetry in the hope of eclipsing her.
+Thus her animation continued without rest until Mrs. Roberts
+escorted one of the guests to the piano to sing for them.
+
+"She's keeping me for Mr. Harrison," thought Helen, laughing
+mischievously to herself; "and I suppose she's picked out the worst
+musician first, so as to build up a climax."
+
+It seemed as if that might have been the plan for a fact; the
+performer sang part of Gluck's "J'ai perdu mon Eurydice," in strange
+French, and in a mournful voice which served very well to display
+the incompatibility of the melody and the words. As it happened,
+however, Mistress Helen heard not a word of the song, for it had
+scarcely begun before she turned her eyes towards the doorway and
+caught sight of a figure that drove all other ideas from her mind.
+Mr. Harrison had come at last.
+
+He was a tall, dignified man, and Helen's first feeling was of
+relief to discover that he was neither coarse-looking, nor even
+plain. He had rather too bright a complexion, and rather too large a
+sandy mustache, but his clothes fitted him, and he seemed to be at
+ease as he glanced about him and waited in the doorway for the young
+lady at the piano to finish. While the faint applause was still
+sounding he entered with Mrs. Roberts, moving slowly across the
+room. "And now!" thought Helen, "now for it!"
+
+As she expected, the two came towards her, and Mr. Harrison was
+presented; Helen, who was on the watch with all her faculties,
+decided that he bore that trial tolerably, for while his admiration
+of course showed itself, he did not stare, and he was not
+embarrassed.
+
+"I am a little late, I fear," he said; "have I missed much of the
+music?"
+
+"No," said Helen, "that was the first selection."
+
+"I am glad of that," said the other.
+
+According to the laws which regulate the drifting of conversation,
+it was next due that Helen should ask if he were fond of singing;
+and then that he should answer that he was very fond of it, which he
+did.
+
+"Mrs. Roberts tells me you are a skillful musician," he added; "I
+trust that I shall hear you?"
+
+Helen of course meant to play, and had devoted some thought to the
+selection of her program; therefore she answered: "Possibly; we
+shall see by and by."
+
+"I am told that you have been studying in Germany," was the next
+observation. "Do you like Germany?"
+
+"Very much," said Helen. "Only they made me work very hard at music,
+and at everything else."
+
+"That is perhaps why you are a good player," said Mr. Harrison.
+
+"You ought to wait until you hear me," the girl replied, following
+his example of choosing the most obvious thing to say.
+
+"I fear I am not much of a critic," said the other.
+
+And so the conversation drifted on for several minutes, Mr.
+Harrison's remarks being so very uninspiring that his companion
+could find no way to change the subject to anything worth talking
+about.
+
+"Evidently," the girl thought, during a momentary lull, "he has
+learned all the rules of talking, and that's why he's at ease. But
+dear me, what an awful prospect! It would kill me to have to do this
+often. But then, to be sure I shan't see him in the day time, and in
+the evenings we should not be at home. One doesn't have to be too
+intimate with one's husband, I suppose. And then--"
+
+"I think," said Mr. Harrison, "that your aunt is coming to ask you
+to play."
+
+That was Aunt Polly's mission, for a fact, and Helen was much
+relieved, for she had found herself quite helpless to lift the
+conversation out of the slough of despond into which it had fallen;
+she wanted a little time to collect her faculties and think of
+something clever to start with again. When in answer to the request
+of Aunt Polly she arose and went to the piano, the crushed feeling
+of course left her, and her serenity returned; for Helen was at home
+at the piano, knowing that she could do whatever she chose, and do
+it without effort. It was a stimulus to her faculties to perceive
+that a general hush had fallen upon the room, and that every eye was
+upon her; as she sat down, therefore, all her old exultation was
+back.
+
+She paused a moment to collect herself, and gave one easy glance
+down the room at the groups of people. She caught a glimpse as she
+did so of Mr. Howard, who was still seated upon the sofa, leaning
+forward and resting his chin in his hand and fixing his eyes upon
+her. At another time the sight of his wan face might perhaps have
+annoyed the girl, but she was carried beyond that just then by the
+excitement of the moment; her glance came back to the piano, and
+feeling that everyone was attentive and expectant, she began.
+
+Helen numbered in her repertoire a good many pieces that were
+hopelessly beyond the technic of the average salon pianist, and she
+had chosen the most formidable with which to astonish her hearers
+that evening. She had her full share of that pleasure which people
+get from concerning themselves with great things: a pleasure which
+is responsible for much of the reading, and especially the
+discussing, of the world's great poets, and which brings forth many
+lofty sentiments from the numerous class of persons who combine
+idealism with vanity. Helen's selection was the first movement of
+the "Sonata Appassionata," and she was filled with a pleasing sense
+of majesty and importance as she began. She liked the first theme
+especially because it was striking and dignified and never failed to
+attract attention; and in what followed there was room for every
+shading of tone, from delicate softness that showed much feeling and
+sympathy, to stunning fortissimos that made everyone stare. The girl
+was relieved of any possible fear by the certainty that the
+composition was completely beyond her hearers' understanding, and so
+she soon lost herself in her task, and, as her excitement mounted,
+played with splendid spirit and abandon. Her calculations proved
+entirely well made, for when she stopped she received a real
+ovation, having genuinely astonished her hearers; and she crossed
+the room, beaming radiantly upon everyone and acknowledging their
+compliments, more assured of triumph than ever before. To cap the
+climax, when she reached her seat she found Mr. Harrison betraying
+completely his profound admiration, his gaze being riveted upon the
+glowing girl as she sat down beside him.
+
+"Miss Davis," he said, with evident sincerity, "that was really
+wonderful!"
+
+"Thank you very much," said Helen, radiantly.
+
+"It was the most splendid piano playing I have ever heard in my life,"
+the other went on. "Pray what was it that you played--something new?"
+
+"Oh, no," was the answer, "it is very old indeed."
+
+"Ah," said Mr. Harrison, "those old composers were very great men."
+
+"Yes," said Helen, demurely.
+
+"I was astonished to see with what ease you played," the other
+continued, "and yet so marvelously fast! That must be a fearfully
+hard piece of music to play."
+
+"Yes, it is," said Helen; "but it is quite exciting," she added,
+fanning herself and laughing.
+
+Helen was at the top of her being just then, and in perfect command
+of things; she had no idea of letting herself be dragged down into
+the commonplace again. "I think it's about time I was fascinating
+him," she said to herself, and she started in, full of merriment and
+life. Taking her last remark as a cue, she told him funny stories
+about the eccentricities of the sonata's great composer, how he
+would storm and rage up and down his room like a madman, and how he
+hired a boy to pump water over his head by the hour, in case of
+emergency.
+
+Mr. Harrison remarked that it was funny how all musicians were such
+queer chaps, but even that did not discourage Helen. She rattled on,
+quite as supremely captivating as she had been at the dinner table,
+and as she saw that her companion was yielding to her spell, the
+color mounted to her cheeks and her blood flowed faster yet.
+
+It is of the nature of such flame to feed itself, and Helen grew the
+more exulting as she perceived her success,--and consequently all
+the more irresistible. The eyes of the man were soon riveted upon
+the gorgeous vision of loveliness before him, and the contagion of
+the girl's animation showed itself even in him, for he brightened a
+little, and was clever enough to startle himself. It was a new
+delight and stimulus to Helen to perceive it, and she was soon swept
+away in much the same kind of nervous delight as her phantasy with
+the thunderstorm. The sofa upon which the two were seated had been
+somewhat apart from the rest, and so they had nothing to disturb
+them. A short half hour fled by, during which Helen's daring
+animation ruled everything, and at the end of which Mr. Harrison was
+quite oblivious to everything about him.
+
+There were others, however, who were watching the affair; the
+keen-eyed Aunt Polly was comprehending all with joy, but she was as
+ever calculating and prudent, and she knew that Helen's monopoly of
+Mr. Harrison would soon become unpleasantly conspicuous, especially
+as she had so far introduced him to no one else. She felt that
+little would be lost by breaking the spell, for what the girl was
+doing then she might do any time she chose; and so after waiting a
+while longer she made her way unobtrusively over to them and joined
+their conversation.
+
+Helen of course understood her aunt's meaning, and acquiesced; she
+kept on laughing and talking for a minute or two more, and then at a
+lull in the conversation she exclaimed: "But I've been keeping Mr.
+Harrison here talking to me, and nobody else has seen anything of
+him." And so Mr. Harrison, inwardly anathematizing the rest of the
+company, was compelled to go through a long series of handshakings,
+and finally to be drawn into a group of young persons whose
+conversation seemed to him the most inane he had ever heard in his
+life.
+
+In the meantime someone else was giving a piano selection, one which
+Helen had never heard, but which sounded to every one like a finger
+exercise after her own meteoric flight; the girl sat half listening
+to it and half waiting for her aunt to return, which Mrs. Roberts
+finally did, beaming with gratitude.
+
+"My love," she whispered, "you are an angel; you have done better
+than I ever dreamed of!"
+
+And Helen felt her blood give a sudden leap that was not quite
+pleasant; the surging thoughts that were in her mind at that moment
+brought back the nervous trembling she had felt in the carriage, so
+that she leaned against the sofa for support.
+
+"Now listen, my dear," the other went swiftly on, perhaps divining
+the girl's state, "I want you to do a great favor for me."
+
+"Was not that for you, Auntie?" asked Helen, weakly.
+
+"No, my dear, that was for yourself. But this--"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I want you to come and talk to my David Howard a little while."
+
+The girl gave a start, and turned a little paler. "Aunt Polly," she
+exclaimed, "not now! He looks so ill, it makes me nervous even to
+see him."
+
+"But, Helen, my dear, that is nonsense," was the reply. "Mr. Howard
+is one of the most interesting men you ever met. He knows more than
+all the people in this room together, and you will forget he is an
+invalid when you have talked to him a while."
+
+Helen was, or wished to think herself, upon the heights of happiness
+just then, and she shrunk more than ever from anything that was
+wretched. "Not now, Aunt Polly," she said, faintly. "Please wait
+until--"
+
+"But, my dear," said Aunt Polly, "now is the very time; you will
+wish to be with Mr. Harrison again soon. And you must meet Mr.
+Howard, for that is what he came for."
+
+"I suppose then I'll have to," said Helen, knitting her brows; "I'll
+stroll over in a minute or two."
+
+"All right," said the other; "and please try to get acquainted with
+him, Helen, for I want you to like him."
+
+"I will do my best," said the girl. "He won't talk about his
+ailments, will he?"
+
+"No," said the other, laughing, "I fancy not. Talk to him about
+music--he's a great musician, you know."
+
+And as her aunt left the room, Helen stole a side glance at the man,
+who was alone upon the sofa just then. His chin was still resting in
+his hand, and he was looking at Helen as before. As she glanced at
+him thus he seemed to be all head, or rather all forehead, for his
+brow was very high and white, and was set off by heavy black hair.
+
+"He does look interesting," the girl thought, as she forced a smile
+and walked across the room; her aunt entered at the same time, as if
+by accident, and the two approached Mr. Howard. As he saw them
+coming he rose, with some effort as Helen noticed, and with a very
+slight look of pain; it cost her some resolution to give the man her
+hand. In a minute or two more, however, they were seated alone upon
+the sofa, Aunt Polly having gone off with the remark to Helen that
+she had made Mr. Howard promise to talk to her about music, and that
+they both knew too much about it for her. "You must tell Helen all
+about her playing," she added to him, laughingly.
+
+And then Helen, to carry on the conversation, added, "I should be
+very much pleased if you would."
+
+"I am afraid it is an ungracious task Mrs. Roberts has chosen me,"
+the man answered, smiling. "Critics are not a popular race."
+
+"It depends upon the critics," said Helen. "They must be sincere."
+
+"That is just where they get into trouble," was the response.
+
+"It looks as if he were going to be chary with his praise," thought
+Helen, feeling just the least bit uncomfortable. She thought for a
+moment, and then said, not without truth, "You pique my curiosity,
+Mr. Howard."
+
+"My criticism could not be technical," said the other, smiling,
+again, "for I am not a pianist."
+
+"You play some other instrument?" asked Helen; afterwards she added,
+mischievously, "or are you just a critic?"
+
+"I play the violin," the man answered.
+
+"You are going to play for us this evening?"
+
+"No," said the other, "I fear I shall not."
+
+"Why not?" Helen inquired.
+
+"I have not been feeling very well to-day," was the response. "But I
+have promised your aunt to play some evening; we had quite a long
+dispute."
+
+"You do not like to play in public?" asked Helen.
+
+The question was a perfectly natural one, but it happened
+unfortunately that as the girl asked it her glance rested upon the
+figure of her companion. The man chanced to look at her at the same
+instant, and she saw in a flash that her thought had been misread.
+Helen colored with the most painful mortification; but Mr. Howard
+gave, to her surprise, no sign of offense.
+
+"No, not in general," he said, with simple dignity. "I believe that
+I am much better equipped as a listener."
+
+Helen had never seen more perfect self-possession than that, and she
+felt quite humbled.
+
+It would have been difficult to guess the age of the man beside her,
+but Helen noticed that his hair was slightly gray. A closer view had
+only served to strengthen her first impression of him, that he was
+all head, and she found herself thinking that if that had been all
+of him he might have been handsome, tho in a strange, uncomfortable
+way. The broad forehead seemed more prominent than ever, and the
+dark eyes seemed fairly to shine from beneath it. The rest of the
+face, tho wan, was as powerful and massive as the brow, and seemed
+to Helen, little used as she was to think of such things, to
+indicate character as well as suffering.
+
+"It looks a little like Arthur's," she thought.
+
+This she had been noticing in the course of the conversation; then,
+because her curiosity had really been piqued, she brought back the
+original topic again. "You have not told me about my playing," she
+smiled, "and I wish for your opinion. I am very vain, you know."
+(There is wisdom in avowing a weakness which you wish others to
+think you do not possess.)
+
+"It gave me great pleasure to watch you," said the man, after a
+moment.
+
+"To watch me!" thought Helen. "That is a palpable evasion. That is
+not criticising my music itself," she said aloud, not showing that
+she was a trifle annoyed.
+
+"You have evidently been very well taught," said the
+other,--"unusually well; and you have a very considerable technic."
+And Helen was only more uncomfortable than ever; evidently the man
+would have liked to add a "but" to that sentence, and the girl felt
+as if she had come near an icicle in the course of her evening's
+triumph. However, she was now still more curious to hear the rest of
+his opinion. Half convinced yet that it must be favorable in the
+end, she said:
+
+"I should not in the least mind your speaking plainly; the
+admiration of people who do not understand music I really do not
+care for." And then as Mr. Howard fixed his deep, clear eyes upon
+her, Helen involuntarily lowered hers a little.
+
+"If you really want my opinion," said the other, "you shall have it.
+But you must remember that it is yourself who leads me to the bad
+taste of being serious in company."
+
+That last remark was in Helen's own style, and she looked
+interested. For the rest, she felt that she had gotten into grave
+trouble by her question; but it was too late to retreat now.
+
+"I will excuse you," she said. "I wish to know."
+
+"Very well, then," said Mr. Howard; "the truth is that I did not
+care for your selection."
+
+Helen gave a slight start. "If that is all the trouble, I need not
+worry," she thought; and she added easily, "The sonata is usually
+considered one of Beethoven's very greatest works, Mr. Howard."
+
+"I am aware of that," said the other; "but do you know how Beethoven
+came to compose it?"
+
+Helen had the happy feeling of a person of moderate resources when
+the conversation turns to one of his specialties. "Yes," she said;
+"I have read how he said 'So pocht das Schicksal auf die Pforte.'
+[Footnote: "So knocks Fate upon the door."] Do you understand that,
+Mr. Howard?"
+
+"Only partly," said the other, very gently; "do you?" And Helen felt
+just then that she had made a very awkward blunder indeed.
+
+"Fate is a very dreadful thing to understand, Miss Davis," the other
+continued, slowly. "When one has heard the knock, he does not forget
+it, and even the echo of it makes him tremble."
+
+"I suppose then," said Helen, glibly, trying to save herself, "that
+you think the sonata is too serious to be played in public?"
+
+"Not exactly," was the answer; "it depends upon the circumstances.
+There are always three persons concerned, you know. In this case, as
+you have pardoned me for being serious, there is in the first place
+the great genius with his sacred message; you know how he learned
+that his life work was to be ruined by deafness, and how he poured
+his agony and despair into his greatest symphony, and into this
+sonata. That is the first person, Miss Davis."
+
+He paused for a moment; and Helen took a deep breath, thinking that
+it was the strangest conversation she had ever been called upon to
+listen to during an evening's merriment. Yet she did not smile, for
+the man's deep, resonant voice fascinated her.
+
+"And the second?" she asked.
+
+"The second," said Mr. Howard, turning his dark, sunken eyes full
+upon the girl, "is another man, not a genius, but one who has
+suffered, I fear, nearly as much as one; a man who is very hungry
+for beauty, and very impatient of insincerity, and who is accustomed
+to look to the great masters of art for all his help and courage."
+
+Helen felt very uncomfortable indeed.
+
+"Evidently," she said, "I am the third."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Howard, "the pianist is the third. It is the
+pianist's place to take the great work and live it, and study it
+until he knows all that it means; and then--"
+
+"I don't think I took it quite so seriously as that," said Helen,
+with a poor attempt at humility.
+
+"No," said Mr. Howard, gravely; "it was made evident to me that you
+did not by every note you played; for you treated it as if it had
+been a Liszt show-piece."
+
+Helen was of course exceedingly angry at those last blunt words; but
+she was too proud to let her vexation be observed. She felt that she
+had gotten herself into the difficulty by asking for serious
+criticism, for deep in her heart she knew that it was true, and that
+she would never have dared to play the sonata had she known that a
+musician was present. Helen felt completely humiliated, her few
+minutes' conversation having been enough to put her out of humor
+with herself and all of her surroundings. There was a long silence,
+in which she had time to think of what she had heard; she felt in
+spite of herself the folly of what she had done, and her whole
+triumph had suddenly come to look very small indeed; yet, as was
+natural, she felt only anger against the man who had broken the
+spell and destroyed her illusion. She was only the more irritated
+because she could not find any ground upon which to blame him.
+
+It would have been very difficult for her to have carried on the
+conversation after that. Fortunately a diversion occurred, the young
+person who had last played having gone to the piano again, this time
+with a young man and a violin.
+
+"Aunt Polly has found someone to take your place," said Helen,
+forcing a smile.
+
+"Yes," said the other, "she told me we had another violinist."
+
+The violinist played Raff's Cavatina, a thing with which fiddlers
+all love to exhibit themselves; he played it just a little off the
+key at times, as Helen might have told by watching her companion's
+eyebrows. She in the meantime was trying to recover her equanimity,
+and to think what else she could say. "He's the most uncomfortable
+man I ever met," she thought with vexation. "I wish I'd insisted
+upon keeping away from him!"
+
+However, Helen was again relieved from her plight by the fact that
+as the fiddler stopped and the faint applause died out, she saw Mr.
+Harrison coming towards her. Mr. Harrison had somehow succeeded in
+extricating himself from the difficulty in which his hostess had
+placed him, and had no doubt guessed that Helen was no better
+pleased with her new companion.
+
+"May I join you?" he asked, as he neared the sofa.
+
+"Certainly," said Helen, smiling; she introduced the two men, and
+Mr. Harrison sat down upon the other side of the girl. Somehow or
+other he seemed less endurable than he had just before, for his
+voice was not as soft as Mr. Howard's, and now that Helen's
+animation was gone she was again aware of the millionaire's very
+limited attainments.
+
+"That was a very interesting thing we just heard," he said. "What
+was it? Do you know?"
+
+Helen answered that it was Raff's Cavatina.
+
+"Cavatina?" said Mr. Harrison. "The name sounds familiar; I may have
+heard it before."
+
+Helen glanced nervously at Mr. Howard; but the latter gave no sign.
+
+"Mr. Howard is himself a violinist," she said. "We must be careful
+what criticisms we make."
+
+"Oh, I do not make any--I do not know enough about it," said the
+other, with heartiness which somehow seemed to Helen to fail of
+deserving the palliating epithet of "bluff."
+
+"Mr. Howard has just been telling me about my own playing," Helen
+went on, growing a little desperate.
+
+"I hope he admired it as much as I did," said the unfortunate
+railroad-president.
+
+"I'm afraid he didn't," said Helen, trying to turn the matter into a
+laugh.
+
+"He didn't!" exclaimed Mr. Harrison, in surprise. "Pray, why not?"
+
+He asked the question of Mr. Howard, and Helen shuddered, for fear
+he might begin with that dreadful "There are always three persons
+concerned, you know." But the man merely said, very quietly, "My
+criticism was of rather a technical nature, Mr. Harrison."
+
+"I'm sure, for my part I thought her playing wonderful," said the
+gentleman from Cincinnati, to which the other did not reply.
+
+Helen felt herself between two fires and her vexation was increasing
+every moment; yet, try as she might, she could not think of anything
+to change the subject, and it was fortunate that the watchful Aunt
+Polly was on hand to save her. Mrs. Roberts was too diplomatic a
+person not to see the unwisdom of putting Mr. Harrison in a position
+where his deficiencies must be so very apparent, and so she came
+over, determined to carry one of the two men away. She was relieved
+of the trouble by the fact that, as she came near, Mr. Howard rose,
+again with some pain as it seemed to Helen, and asked the girl to
+excuse him. "I have been feeling quite ill today," he explained.
+
+Helen, as she saw him walk away with Mrs. Roberts, sank back with a
+sigh which was only half restrained. "A very peculiar person," said
+Mr. Harrison, who was clever enough to divine her vexation."
+
+"Yes," said the girl, "very, indeed."
+
+"He seemed to be lecturing you about something, from what I saw,"
+added the other. The remark was far from being in the best taste,
+but it pleased Helen, because it went to justify her to herself, and
+at the same time offered her an opportunity to vent her feelings.
+
+"Yes," she said. "It was about music; he was very much displeased
+with me."
+
+"So!" exclaimed Mr. Harrison. "I hope you do not let that disturb
+you?"
+
+"No," said the girl, laughing,--"or at any rate, I shall soon
+recover my equanimity. It is very hard to please a man who plays
+himself, you know."
+
+"Or who says he plays," observed Mr. Harrison. "He _didn't_ play,
+you notice."
+
+Helen was pleased to fancy that there might be wisdom in the remark.
+"Let us change the subject," she said more cheerfully. "It is best
+to forget things that make one feel uncomfortable."
+
+"I'll leave the finding of a new topic to you," replied the other,
+with graciousness which did a little more to restore Helen's
+self-esteem. "I have a very humble opinion of my own conversation."
+
+"Do you like mine?" the girl asked with a laugh.
+
+"I do, indeed," said Mr. Harrison with equally pleasing frankness.
+"I was as interested as could be in the story that you were telling
+me when we were stopped."
+
+"Well, we'll begin where we left off!" exclaimed Helen, and felt as
+if she had suddenly discovered a doorway leading from a prison. She
+found it easy to forget the recent events after that, and Mr.
+Harrison grew more tolerable to her every moment now that the other
+was gone; her self-possession came back to her quickly as she read
+his admiration in his eyes. Besides that, it was impossible to
+forget for very long that Mr. Harrison was a multi-millionaire, and
+the object of the envious glances of every other girl in the room;
+and so when Aunt Polly returned a while later she found the
+conversation between the two progressing very well, and in fact
+almost as much enjoyed by both as it had been the first time. After
+waiting a few minutes she came to ask Helen to sing for the company,
+a treat which she had reserved until the last.
+
+Helen's buoyant nature had by that time flung all her doubts behind
+her, and this last excitement was all that was needed to sweep her
+away entirely again. She went to the piano as exulting as ever in
+her command of it and in the homage which it brought her. She sang
+an arrangement of the "Preislied," and she sang it with all the
+energy and enthusiasm she possessed; partly because she had a really
+good voice and enjoyed the song, and partly because an audience
+appreciates singing more easily than any other kind of music. She
+really scored the success of the evening. Everybody was as
+enthusiastic as the limits of good taste allowed, and Helen was
+compelled, not in the least against her will, to sing again and
+again. While she was laughing with happiness and triumph, something
+brought, back "Wohin" to her mind, and she sang it again, quite as
+gaily as she had sung it by the streamlet with Arthur. It was enough
+to delight even the dullest, and perhaps if Mr. Howard had been
+there even he would have applauded a little.
+
+At any rate, as Helen rose from the piano she received a complete
+ovation, everyone coming to her to thank her and to praise her, and
+to share in the joy of her beauty; she herself had never been more
+radiant and more exulting in all her exulting life, drinking in even
+Mr. Harrison's rapturous compliments and finding nothing exaggerated
+in them. And in the meantime, Aunt Polly having suggested a waltz to
+close the festivities, the furniture was rapidly moved to one side,
+and the hostess herself took her seat at the piano and struck up the
+"Invitation to the Dance;" Mr. Harrison, who had been at Helen's
+side since her singing had ceased, was of course her partner, and
+the girl, flushed and excited by all the homage she had received,
+was soon waltzing delightedly in his arms. The man danced well,
+fortunately for him, and that he was the beautiful girl's ardent
+admirer was by this time evident, not only to Helen, but to everyone
+else.
+
+In the mood that she was then, the fact was as welcome to her as it
+could possibly have been, and when, therefore, Mr. Harrison kept her
+arm and begged for the next dance, and the next in turn, Helen was
+sufficiently carried away to have no wish to refuse him; when after
+the third dance she was tired out and sat down to rest, Mr. Harrison
+was still her companion.
+
+Helen was at the very height of her happiness then, every trace of
+her former vexation gone, and likewise every trace of her objections
+to the man beside her. The music was still sounding merrily, and
+everyone else was dancing, so that her animation did not seem at all
+out of taste; and so brilliant and fascinating had she become, and
+so completely enraptured was Mr. Harrison, that he would probably
+have capitulated then and there if the dancing had not ceased and
+the company separated when it did. The end of all the excitement was
+a great disappointment to Helen; she was completely happy just then,
+and would have gone just as far as the stream had carried her. It
+being her first social experience was probably the reason that she
+was less easily wearied than the rest; and besides, when one has
+thus yielded to the sway of the senses, he dreads instinctively the
+subsiding of the excitement and the awakening of reason.
+
+The awakening, however, is one that must always come; Helen, having
+sent away the maid, suddenly found herself standing alone in the
+middle of her own room gazing at herself in the glass, and seeing a
+frightened look in her eyes. The merry laughter of the guests ceased
+gradually, and silence settled about the halls of the great house;
+but even then Helen did not move. She was standing there still when
+her aunt came into the room.
+
+Mrs. Roberts was about as excited as was possible in a matron of her
+age and dignity; she flung her arms rapturously around Helen, and
+clasped her to her. "My dear," she cried, "it was a triumph!"
+
+"Yes, Auntie," said Helen, weakly.
+
+"You dear child, you!" went on the other, laughing; "I don't believe
+you realize it yet! Do you know, Helen, that Mr. Harrison is madly
+in love with you? You ought to be the happiest girl in the land
+tonight!"
+
+"Yes, Auntie," said Helen again, still more weakly.
+
+"Come here, my dear," said Mrs. Roberts, drawing her gently over to
+the bed and sitting down beside her; "you are a little dazed, I
+fancy, and I do not blame you. I should have been beside myself at
+your age if such a thing had happened to me; do you realize, child,
+what a fortune like Mr. Harrison's is?"
+
+"No," said Helen, "it is very hard, Aunt Polly. I'm afraid about it;
+I must have some time to think."
+
+"Think!" laughed the other. "You queer child! My dear, do you
+actually mean that you could think of refusing this chance of your
+lifetime?"
+
+"I don't know," said Helen, trembling; "I don't--"
+
+"Everybody'd think you were crazy, child! I know I should, for one."
+And she added, coaxingly, "Let me tell you what Mr. Roberts said."
+
+"What, Auntie?"
+
+"He sent you in this message; he's a great person for doing generous
+things, when he takes it into his head. He told me to tell you that
+if you'd accept Mr. Harrison's offer he would give you the finest
+trousseau that he could buy. Wasn't that splendid of him?"
+
+"Yes," said Helen, "thank him for me;" and she shuddered. "Don't
+talk to me any more about it now, tho," she pleaded. "Please don't,
+Aunt Polly. I was so excited, and it was all like a dream, and I'm
+half dazed now; I can't think about it, and I must think, somehow!
+It's too dreadful!"
+
+"You shan't think about it tonight, child," laughed the other, "for
+I want you to sleep and be beautiful tomorrow. See," she added,
+beginning to unfasten Helen's dress, "I'm going to be your little
+mother tonight, and put you to bed."
+
+And so, soothing the girl and kissing her burning forehead and
+trying to laugh away her fears, her delighted protectress undressed
+her, and did not leave her until she had seen her in bed and kissed
+her again. "And promise me, child," she said, "that you won't worry
+yourself tonight. Go to sleep, and you'll have time to think
+tomorrow."
+
+Helen promised that she would; but she did not keep her promise. She
+heard the great clock in the hallway strike many times, and when the
+darkest hours of the night had passed she was sitting up in bed and
+gazing about her at the gray shadows in the room, holding the
+covering tightly about her, because she was very cold; she was
+muttering nervously to herself, half deliriously: "No, no, I will
+not do it! They shall not _make_ me do it! I must have time to
+think."
+
+And when at last she fell into a restless slumber, that thought was
+still in her mind, and those words upon her lips: "I will not do it;
+I must have time to think!"
+
+[Music: The opening passage of Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+  "And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
+  What them shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee; and
+  My strong imagination sees a crown
+  Dropping upon thy head."
+
+When Helen awoke upon the following morning, the resolution to
+withstand her aunt's urging was still strong within her; as she
+strove to bring back the swift events of the night before, the first
+discovery she made was a headache and a feeling of weariness and
+dissatisfaction that was new to her. She arose and looked in the
+glass, and seeing that she was pale, vowed again, "They shall not
+torment me in this way! I do not even mean that he shall propose to
+me; I must have time to realize it!"
+
+And so firm was she in her own mind that she rang the bell and sent
+the maid to call her aunt. It was then only nine o'clock in the
+morning, and Helen presumed that neither Mrs. Roberts nor any of the
+other guests would be awake, they not being fresh from boarding
+school as she was; but the girl was so nervous and restless, and so
+weighed upon by her urgent resolution, that she felt she could do
+nothing else until she had declared it and gotten rid of the matter.
+"I'm going to tell her once for all," she vowed; "they shall not
+torment me any more."
+
+It turned out, however, that Mrs. Roberts had been up and dressed a
+considerable time,--for a reason which, when Helen learned it,
+prevented her delivering so quickly the speech she had upon her
+mind; she noticed a worried expression upon her aunt's face as soon
+as the latter came into the room.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked, in some surprise.
+
+"A very dreadful misfortune, my dear," said Mrs. Roberts; "I don't
+know how to tell you, you'll be so put out."
+
+Helen was quite alarmed as she saw her aunt sink down into a chair;
+but then it flashed over her that Mr. Harrison might have for some
+reason been called away.
+
+"What is it? Tell me!" she asked eagerly.
+
+"It's Mr. Howard, my dear," said the other; and Helen frowned.
+
+"Oh, bother!" she cried; "what about him?"
+
+"He's been ill during the night," replied Aunt Polly.
+
+"Ill!" exclaimed Helen. "Dear me, what a nuisance!"
+
+"Poor man," said the other, deprecatingly; "he cannot help it."
+
+"Yes," exclaimed Helen, "but he ought not to be here. What is the
+matter with him?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply, "but he has been suffering so all
+night that the doctor has had to give him an opiate."
+
+The wan countenance of Mr. Howard rose up before Helen just then,
+and she shuddered inwardly.
+
+"Dear me, what a state of affairs!" she exclaimed. "It seems to me
+as if I were to have nothing but fright and worry. Why should there
+be such things in the world?"
+
+"I don't know, Helen," said the other, "but it is certainly
+inopportune for you. Of course the company will all have to leave."
+
+"To leave!" echoed Helen; she had never once thought of that.
+
+"Why, of course," said her aunt. "It would not be possible to enjoy
+ourselves under such very dreadful circumstances."
+
+"But, Aunt Polly, that is a shame!" cried the girl. "The idea of so
+many people being inconvenienced for such a cause. Can't he be
+moved?"
+
+"The doctor declares it would be impossible at present, Helen, and
+it would not look right anyway, you know. He will certainly have to
+remain until he is better."
+
+"And how long will that be?"
+
+"A week, or perhaps more," was the reply.
+
+And Helen saw that her promised holiday was ruined; her emotions,
+however, were not all of disappointment, for though she was vexed at
+the interruptions, she recollected with sudden relief that she could
+thus obtain, and without so much effort of her own, the time to
+debate the problem of Mr. Harrison. Also there was in her mind, if
+not exactly pity for the invalid, at any rate the nearest to it that
+Helen had ever learned to feel, an uncomfortable fright at the idea
+of such suffering.
+
+"I promise you," said Aunt Polly, who had been watching her face and
+trying to read her emotions, "that we shall only postpone the good
+time I meant to give you. You cannot possibly be more vexed about it
+than I, for I was rejoicing in your triumph with Mr. Harrison."
+
+"I'm not worrying on that account," said Helen, angrily.
+
+"Helen, dear," said Mrs. Roberts, pleadingly, "what can be the
+matter with you? I think anyone who was watching you and me would
+get the idea that I was the one to whom the fortune is coming. I
+suppose that was only one of your jokes, my dear, but I truly don't
+think you show a realization of what a tremendous opportunity you
+have. You show much more lack of experience than I had any idea
+could be possible."
+
+"It isn't that, Aunt Polly," protested Helen; "I realize it, but I
+want time to think."
+
+"To think, Helen! But what is there to think? It seems to be madness
+to trifle with such a chance."
+
+"Will it be trifling to keep him waiting a while?" asked Helen,
+laughing in spite of her vexation.
+
+"Maybe not, my dear; but you ought to know that every other girl in
+this house would snap him up at one second's notice. If you'd only
+seen them watching you last night as I did."
+
+"I saw a little," was the reply. "But, Aunt Polly, is Mr. Harrison
+the only man whom I can find?"
+
+"My husband and I have been over the list of our acquaintances, and
+not found anyone that can be compared with him for an instant,
+Helen. We know of no one that would do for you that has half as much
+money."
+
+"I never said _he'd_ do for me," said Helen, again laughing.
+"Understand me, Auntie," she added; "it isn't that I'd not like the
+fortune! If I could get it without its attachment--"
+
+"But, my dear, you know you can never get any wealth except by
+marriage; what is the use of talking such nonsense, even in fun?"
+
+"But, listen," objected Helen in turn; "suppose I don't want such a
+great fortune--suppose I should marry one of these other men?"
+
+"Helen, if you only could know as much as I know about these
+things," said Mrs. Roberts, "if you only could know the difference
+between being in the middle and at the top of the social ladder!
+Dear, why will you choose anything but the best when you can have
+the best if you want it? I tell you once for all I do not care how
+clever you are, or how beautiful you are, the great people will look
+down on you for an upstart if you cannot match them and make just as
+much of a show. And why can you not discover what your own tastes
+are? I watched you last night, child; anyone could have seen that
+you were in your element! You outshone everyone, Helen, and you
+should do just the same all your life. Can you not see just what
+that means to you?"
+
+"Yes, Auntie," said Helen, "but then--"
+
+"Were you not perfectly happy last night?" interrupted the other.
+
+"No," protested the other, "that's just what I was going to say."
+
+"The only reason in the world why you are not, my dear, is that you
+were tormenting yourself with foolish scruples. Can you not see that
+if you once had the courage to rid yourself of them it would be all
+that you need. Why are you so weak, Helen?"
+
+"It is not weak!" exclaimed the other.
+
+"Yes," asserted Mrs. Roberts, "I say it is weak. It is weak of you
+not to comprehend what your life is to be, and what you need for
+your happiness. It is a shame for you to make no use of the glorious
+gifts that are yours, and to cramp and hinder all your own progress.
+I want you to have room to show your true powers, Helen!"
+
+Helen had been leaning over the foot of the bed listening to her
+aunt, stirred again by all her old emotion, and angry with herself
+for being stirred; her unspoken resolution was not quite so steady
+as it had been, tho like all good resolutions it remained in her
+mind to torment her.
+
+She sprang up suddenly with a very nervous and forced laugh. "I'm
+glad I don't have to argue with you, Auntie," she said, "and that
+I'm saved the trouble of worrying myself ill. You see the Fates are
+on my side,--I must have time to think, whether I want to or not."
+It was that comfort which saved her from further struggle with
+herself upon the subject. (Helen much preferred being happy to
+struggling.) She set hurriedly to work to dress, for her aunt told
+her that the guests were nearly ready for breakfast.
+
+"Nobody could sleep since all the excitement," she said. "I wonder
+it did not wake you."
+
+"I was tired," said Helen; "I guess that was it."
+
+"You'll find the breakfast rather a sombre repast," added Mrs.
+Roberts, pathetically. "I've been up nearly three hours myself, so
+frightened about poor Mr. Howard; I had neveer seen anyone so
+dreadfully ill, and I was quite certain he was in his death agony."
+
+"Aunt Polly!" cried Helen with a sudden wild start, "why do you talk
+like that?"
+
+"I won't say any more about it," was the reply, "only hurry up. And
+put on your best looks, my dear, for Mr. Harrison to carry away in
+his memory."
+
+"I'll do that much with pleasure," was the answer; "and please have
+the maid come up to pack my trunks again; for you won't want me to
+stay now, of course."
+
+"Oh, no," said Mrs. Roberts, "not unless you want to. Our house
+won't be a very cheerful place, I fear."
+
+"I'll come back in a week or two, when you are ready for me," Helen
+added; "in the meantime I can be thinking about Mr. Harrison."
+
+Helen was soon on her way downstairs, for it was terrifying to her
+to be alone and in the neighborhood of Mr. Howard. She found a
+sombre gathering indeed, for the guests spoke to each other only in
+half-whispers, and there were few smiles to be seen. Helen found
+herself placed opposite Mr. Harrison at the table, and she had a
+chance to study him by glances through the meal. "He's well dressed,
+anyway," she mused, "and he isn't altogether bad. I wonder if I'd
+_dare_ to marry him."
+
+After breakfast Helen strolled out upon the piazza, perhaps with
+some purpose in her mind; for it is not unpleasant to toy with a
+temptation, even when one means to resist it. At any rate, she was a
+little excited when she heard Mr. Harrison coming out to join her
+there.
+
+"Rather a sad ending of our little party, wasn't it, Miss Davis?" he
+said.
+
+"Yes," answered the girl, "I feel so sorry for poor Mr. Howard."
+
+"He seemed to be rather ill last night," said the other. He was
+going to add that the fact perhaps accounted for the invalid's
+severity, but he was afraid of shocking Helen by his levity,--a not
+entirely necessary precaution, unfortunately.
+
+"You are going back to town this morning, with the others?" Helen
+asked.
+
+"No," said Mr. Harrison, somewhat to her surprise; "I have a
+different plan."
+
+"Good Heavens, does he suppose he's going to stay here with me?"
+thought the girl.
+
+"I received your aunt's permission to ask you," continued Mr.
+Harrison, "and so I need only yours."
+
+"For what?" Helen inquired, with varied emotions.
+
+"To drive you over to Oakdale with my rig," said the other. "I had
+it brought down, you know, because I thought there might be a chance
+to use it."
+
+Helen had turned slightly paler, and was staring in front of her.
+
+"Are you not fond of driving, then, Miss Davis?" asked the other, as
+she hesitated.
+
+"Yes," said Helen, "but I don't like to trouble you--"
+
+"I assure you it will be the greatest pleasure in the world," said
+Mr. Harrison; "I only regret that I shall not be able to see more of
+you, Miss Davis; it is only for the present, I hope."
+
+"Thank you," said Helen, still very faintly.
+
+"And I have a pair of horses that I am rather proud of," added Mr.
+Harrison, laughing; "I should like you to tell me what you think of
+them. Will you give me the pleasure?"
+
+And Helen could not hesitate very much longer without being rude.
+"If you really wish it, Mr. Harrison," she said, "very well." And
+then someone else came out on the piazza and cut short the
+conversation; Helen had no time to think any more about the matter,
+but she had a disagreeable consciousness that her blood was flowing
+faster again, and that her old agitation was back in all its
+strength. Soon afterwards Mrs. Roberts came out and joined the two.
+
+"Miss Davis has granted me the very great favor," said Mr. Harrison;
+"I fear I shall be happier than I ought to be, considering what
+suffering I leave behind."
+
+"It will do no good to worry about it," said Mrs. Roberts, a
+reflection which often keeps the world from wasting its sympathy. "I
+shall have your carriage brought round."
+
+"Isn't it rather early to start?" asked Helen.
+
+"I don't know," said her aunt; "is it?"
+
+"We can take a little drive if it is," said Mr. Harrison; "I mean
+that Miss Davis shall think a great deal of my horses."
+
+Helen said nothing, but stood gazing in front of her across the
+lawns, her mind in a tempest of emotions. She could not put away
+from her the excitement that Mr. Harrison's presence brought; the
+visions of wealth and power which gleamed before her almost
+overwhelmed her with their vastness. But she had also the memory of
+her morning resolve to trouble her conscience; the result was the
+same confused helplessness, the dazed and frightened feeling which
+she so rebelled against.
+
+"I do not _want_ to be troubled in this way," she muttered angrily
+to herself, again and again; "I wish to be let alone, so that I can
+be happy!"
+
+Yet there was no chance just then for her to find an instant's
+peace, or time for further thought; there were half a dozen people
+about her, and she was compelled to listen to and answer commonplace
+remarks about the beauty of the country in front of her, and about
+her singing on the previous evening.
+
+She had to stifle her agitation as best she could, and almost before
+she realized it her aunt had come to summon her to get ready for the
+drive.
+
+Helen hoped to have a moment's quiet then; but there was nothing to
+be done but put on her hat and gloves, and Mrs. Roberts was with her
+all the time. "Helen," she said pleadingly, as she watched the girl
+surveying herself in the glass, "I do hope you will not forget all
+that I told you."
+
+"I wish you would let me alone about it!" cried Helen, very
+peevishly.
+
+"If you only knew, my dear girl, how much I have done for you,"
+replied the other, "and how I've planned and looked forward to this
+time, I don't think you'd answer me in that way."
+
+"It isn't that, Aunt Polly," exclaimed Helen, "but I am so confused
+and I don't know what to think."
+
+"I am trying my poor, humble best to show you what to think. And you
+could not possibly feel more worried than I just now; Helen, you
+could be rid of all these doubts and struggles in one instant, if
+you chose. Ask yourself if it is not true; you have only to give
+yourself into the arms of the happiness that calls you. And you
+never will get rid of the matter in any other way,--indeed you will
+not! If you should fling away this chance, the memory of it would
+never leave you all your life; after you knew it was too late, you
+would torment yourself a thousand times more than ever you can now."
+
+"Oh, dear, dear!" cried Helen, half hysterically; "I can't stand
+that, Aunt Polly. I'll do anything, only let me alone! My head is
+aching to split, and I don't know where I am."
+
+"And you will never find another chance like it, Helen," went on the
+other, with sledge-hammer remorselessness. "For if you behave in
+this perfectly insane way and lose this opportunity, I shall simply
+give you up in despair at your perversity."
+
+"But I haven't said I was going to lose it," the girl exclaimed. "He
+won't be any the less in love with me if I make him wait, Aunt
+Polly!--"
+
+"Mr. Harrison was going back to Cincinnati in a day or two," put in
+Mrs. Roberts, swiftly.
+
+"He will stay if I wish him to," was the girl's reply. "There is no
+need for so much worry; one would think I was getting old."
+
+"Old!" laughed the other. "You are so beautiful this morning, Helen,
+that I could fall in love with you myself." She turned the girl
+towards her, seeing that her toilet was finished. "I haven't a
+thought in the world, dear, but to keep you so beautiful," she said;
+"I hate to see you tormenting yourself and making yourself so pale;
+why will you not take my advice and fling all these worries aside
+and let yourself be happy? That is all I want you to do, and it is
+so easy! Why is it that you do not want to be happy? I like to see
+you smile, Helen!" And Helen, who was tired of struggling, made a
+wry attempt to oblige her, and then broke into a laugh at herself.
+Meanwhile the other picked a rose from a great bunch of them that
+lay upon the bureau, and pinned it upon her dress.
+
+"There, child," she, said, "he can never resist you now, I know!"
+
+Helen kissed her excitedly upon the cheek, and darted quickly out of
+the door, singing, in a brave attempt to bring back her old, merry
+self:--
+
+"The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la-la, Have nothing to do
+with the case."
+
+A moment later, however, she recollected Mr. Howard and his
+misfortune, and her heart sank; she ran quickly down the steps to
+get the thought of him from her mind.
+
+It was easy enough to forget him and all other troubles as well when
+she was once outside upon the piazza; for there were plenty of happy
+people, and everyone crowded about her to bid her good-by. There too
+was Mr. Harrison standing upon the steps waiting for her, and there
+was his driving-cart with two magnificent black horses, alert and
+eager for the sport. Helen was not much of a judge of horses, having
+never had one of her own to drive, but she had the eye of a person
+of aristocratic tastes for what was in good form, and she saw that
+Mr. Harrison's turnout was all of that, with another attraction for
+her, that it was daring; for the horses were lithe, restless
+creatures, thoroughbreds, both of them; and it looked as if they had
+not been out of the stable in a week. They were giving the groom who
+held them all that he could do.
+
+Mr. Harrison held out his hand to the girl as she came down the
+steps, and eyed her keenly to see if her flushed cheeks would betray
+any sign of fear. But Helen's emotions were surging too strongly for
+such thoughts, and she had, besides, a little of the thoroughbred
+nature herself. She laughed gaily as she gave her hand to her
+companion and sprang into the wagon; he followed her, and as he took
+the reins the groom sprang aside and the two horses bounded away
+down the broad avenue. Helen turned once to wave her hand in answer
+to the chorus of good-bys that sounded from the porch, and then she
+faced about and sank back into the seat and drank in with delight
+the fresh morning breeze that blew in her face.
+
+"Oh, I think this is fine!" she cried.
+
+"You like driving, then?" asked the other.
+
+"Yes indeed," was the reply. "I like this kind ever so much."
+
+"Wait until we get out on the high-road," said Mr. Harrison, "and
+then we will see what we can do. I came from the West, you know,
+Miss Davis, so I think I am wise on the subject of horses."
+
+The woods on either side sped by them, and Helen's emotions soon
+began to flow faster. It was always easy for her to forget
+everything and lose herself in feelings of joy and power, and it was
+especially easy when she was as much wrought up as she was just
+then. It was again her ride with the thunderstorm, and soon she felt
+as if she were being swept out into the rejoicing and the victory
+once more. She might have realized, if she had thought, that her joy
+was coming only because she was following her aunt's advice, and
+yielding herself into the arms of her temptation; but Helen was
+thoroughly tired of thinking; she wanted to feel, and again and
+again she drank in deep breaths of the breeze.
+
+It was only a minute or so before they passed the gates of the
+Roberts place, and swept out of the woods and into the open country.
+It was really inspiring then, for Mr. Harrison gave his horses the
+reins, and Helen was compelled to hold on to her hat. He saw delight
+and laughter glowing in her countenance as she watched the landscape
+that fled by them, with its hillsides clad in their brightest green
+and with its fresh-plowed farm-lands and snowy orchards; the
+clattering of the horses' hoofs and the whirring of the wheels in
+the sandy road were music and inspiration such as Helen longed for,
+and she would have sung with all her heart had she been alone.
+
+As was her way, she talked instead, with the same animation and glow
+that had fascinated her companion upon the previous evening. She
+talked of the sights that were about them, and when they came to the
+top of the hill and paused to gaze around at the view, she told
+about her trip through the Alps, and pictured the scenery to him,
+and narrated some of her mountain-climbing adventures; and then Mr.
+Harrison, who must have been a dull man indeed not to have felt the
+contagion of Helen's happiness, told her about his own experiences
+in the Rockies, to which the girl listened with genuine interest.
+Mr. Harrison's father, so he told her, had been a station-agent of a
+little town in one of the wildest portions of the mountains; he
+himself had begun as a railroad surveyor, and had risen step by step
+by constant exertion and watchfulness. It was a story of a self-made
+man, such as Helen had vowed to her aunt she could not bear to
+listen to; yet she did not find it disagreeable just then. There was
+an exciting story of a race with a rival road, to secure the right
+to the best route across the mountains; Helen found it quite as
+exciting as music, and said so.
+
+"Perhaps it is a kind of music," said Mr. Harrison, laughing; "it is
+the only kind I have cared anything about, excepting yours."
+
+"I had no idea people had to work so hard in the world," said Helen,
+dodging the compliment.
+
+"They do, unless they have someone else to do it for them," said the
+other. "It is a fierce race, nowadays, and a man has to watch and
+think every minute of the time. But it is glorious to triumph."
+
+Helen found herself already a little more in a position to realize
+what ten million dollars amounted to, and very much more respectful
+and awe-stricken in her relation to them. She was sufficiently
+oblivious to the flight of time to be quite surprised when she gazed
+about her, and discovered that they were within a couple of miles of
+home. "I had no idea of how quickly we were going," she said.
+
+"You are not tired, then?" asked the other.
+
+"No indeed," Helen answered, "I enjoyed it ever so much."
+
+"We might drive farther," said Mr. Harrison; "these horses are
+hardly waked up."
+
+He reined them in a little and glanced at his watch. "It's just
+eleven," he said, "I think there'd be time," and he turned to her
+with a smile. "Would you like to have an adventure?" he asked.
+
+"I generally do," replied the girl. "What is it?"
+
+"I was thinking of a drive," said the other; "one that we could just
+about take and return by lunch-time; it is about ten miles from
+here."
+
+"What is it?" asked Helen.
+
+"I have just bought a country place near here," said Mr. Harrison.
+"I thought perhaps you would like to see it."
+
+"My aunt spoke of it," Helen answered; "the Eversons' old home."
+
+"Yes," said the other; "you know it, then?"
+
+"I only saw it once in my life, when I was a very little girl,"
+Helen replied, "and so I have only a dim recollection of its
+magnificence; the old man who lived there never saw any company."
+
+"It had to be sold because he failed in business," said Mr.
+Harrison. "Would you like to drive over?"
+
+"Very much," said Helen, and a minute later, when they came to a
+fork in the road, they took the one which led them to "Fairview," as
+the place was called.
+
+"I think it a tremendously fine property myself," said Mr. Harrison;
+"I made up my mind to have it the first time I saw it. I haven't
+seen anything around here to equal it, and I hope to make a real
+English country-seat out of it. I'll tell you about what I want to
+do when we get there, and you can give me your advice; a man never
+has good taste, you know."
+
+"I should like to see it," answered Helen, smiling; "I have a
+passion for fixing up things."
+
+"We had an exciting time at the sale," went on Mr. Harrison
+reminiscently. "You know Mr. Everson's family wanted to keep the
+place themselves, and the three or four branches of the family had
+clubbed together to buy it; when the bidding got near the end, there
+was no one left but the family and myself."
+
+"And you got it?" said Helen. "How cruel!"
+
+"The strongest wins," laughed the other. "I had made up my mind to
+have it. The Eversons are a very aristocratic family, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes," said Helen, "very, indeed; they have lived in this part of
+the country since the Revolution." As Mr. Harrison went on to tell
+her the story of the sale she found herself vividly reminded of what
+her aunt had told her of the difference between having a good deal
+of money and all the money one wanted. Perhaps, also, her companion
+was not without some such vaguely felt purpose in the telling. At
+any rate, the girl was trembling inwardly more and more at the
+prospect which was unfolding itself before her; as excitement always
+acted upon her as a stimulant, she was at her very best during the
+rest of the drive. She and her companion were conversing very
+merrily indeed when Fairview was reached.
+
+The very beginning of the place was imposing, for there was a high
+wall along the roadway for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then two
+massive iron gates set in great stone pillars; they were opened by
+the gate-keeper in response to Mr. Harrison's call. Once inside the
+two had a drive of some distance through what had once been a
+handsome park, though it was a semi-wilderness then. The road
+ascended somewhat all the way, until the end of the forest was
+reached, and the first view of the house was gained; Helen could
+scarcely restrain a cry of pleasure as she saw it, for it was really
+a magnificent old mansion, built of weather-beaten gray stone, and
+standing upon a high plateau, surrounded by a lawn and shaded by
+half a dozen great oaks; below it the lawn sloped in a broad
+terrace, and in the valley thus formed gleamed a little trout-pond,
+set off at the back by a thickly-wooded hillside.
+
+"Isn't it splendid!" the girl exclaimed, gazing about her.
+
+"I thought it was rather good," said Mr. Harrison, deprecatingly.
+"It can be made much finer, of course."
+
+"When you take your last year's hay crop from the lawn, for one
+thing," laughed she. "But I had no idea there was anything so
+beautiful near our little Oakdale. Just look at that tremendous
+entrance!"
+
+"It's all built in royal style," said Mr. Harrison. "The family must
+have been wealthy in the old days."
+
+"Probably slave-dealers, or something of that kind," observed Helen.
+"Is the house all furnished inside?"
+
+"Yes," said the other, "but I expect to do most of it over. Wouldn't
+you like to look?" He asked the question as he saw the gate-keeper
+coming up the road, presumably with the keys.
+
+The girl gazed about her dubiously; she would have liked to go in,
+except that she was certain it would be improper. Helen had never
+had much respect for the proprieties, however, being accustomed to
+rely upon her own opinions of things; and in the present case,
+besides, she reflected that no one would ever know anything about
+it.
+
+"We'd not have time to do more than glance around," continued the
+other, "but we might do that, if you like."
+
+"Yes," said Helen, after a moment more of hesitation, "I think I
+should."
+
+Her heart was beating very fast as the two ascended the great stone
+steps and as the door opened before them; her mind could not but be
+filled with the overwhelming thought that all that she saw might be
+hers if she really wanted it. The mere imagining of Mr. Harrison's
+wealth had been enough to make her thrill and burn, so it was to be
+expected that the actual presence of some of it would not fail of
+its effect. It is to be observed that the great Temptation took
+place upon a high mountain, where the kingdoms of the earth could
+really be seen; and Helen as she gazed around had the further
+knowledge that the broad landscape and palatial house, which to her
+were almost too splendid to be real, were after all but a slight
+trifle to her companion.
+
+The girl entered the great hallway, with its huge fireplace and its
+winding stairway, and then strolled through the parlors of the vast
+house; Helen had in all its fullness the woman's passion for
+spending money for beautiful things, and it had been her chief woe
+in all her travels that the furniture and pictures and tapestry
+which she gazed at with such keen delight must be forever beyond her
+thoughts. Just at present her fancy was turned loose and madly
+reveling in these memories, while always above her wildest flights
+was the intoxicating certainty that there was no reason why they
+should not all be possible. She could not but recollect with a
+wondering smile that only yesterday she had been happy at the
+thought of arranging one dingy little parlor in her country
+parsonage, and had been trying to persuade her father to the
+extravagance of re-covering two chairs.
+
+It would have been hard for Helen to keep her emotions from Mr.
+Harrison, and he must have guessed the reason why she was so flushed
+and excited. They were standing just then in the center of the great
+dining-room, with its massive furniture of black mahogany, and she
+was saying that it ought to be papered in dark red, and was
+conjuring up the effect to herself. "Something rich, you know, to
+set off the furniture," she explained.
+
+"And you must take that dreadful portrait from over the mantel," she
+added, laughing. (It was a picture of a Revolutionary warrior, on
+horseback and in full uniform, the coloring looking like faded
+oilcloth.)
+
+"I had thought of that myself," said Mr. Harrison. "It's the founder
+of the Eversons; there's a picture gallery in a hall back of here,
+with two whole rows of ancestors in it."
+
+"Why don't you adopt them?" asked Helen mischievously.
+
+"One can buy all the ancestors one wants to, nowadays," laughed Mr.
+Harrison. "I thought I'd make something more interesting out of it.
+I'm not much of a judge of art, you know, but I thought if I ever
+went abroad I'd buy up some of the great paintings that one reads
+about--some of the old masters, you know."
+
+"I'm afraid you'd find very few of them for sale," said Helen,
+smiling.
+
+"I'm not accustomed to fail in buying things that I want," was the
+other's reply. "Are you fond of pictures?"
+
+"Very much indeed," answered the girl. As a matter of fact, the mere
+mention of the subject opened a new kingdom to her, for she could
+not count the number of times she had sat before beautiful pictures
+and almost wept at the thought that she could never own one that was
+really worth looking at. "I brought home a few myself," she said to
+her companion,--"just engravings, you know, half a dozen that I
+thought would please me; I mean to hang them around my music-room."
+
+"Tell me about it," said Mr. Harrison. "I have been thinking of
+fixing up such a place myself, you know. I thought of extending the
+house on the side that has the fine view of the valley, and making
+part a piazza, and part a conservatory or music-room."
+
+"It could be both!" exclaimed the girl, eagerly. "That would be the
+very thing; there ought not to be anything in a music-room, you
+know, except the piano and just a few chairs, and the rest all
+flowers. The pictures ought all to be appropriate--pictures of
+nature, of things that dance and are beautiful; oh, I could lose
+myself in such a room as that!" and Helen ran on, completely carried
+away by the fancy, and forgetting even Mr. Harrison for a moment.
+
+"I have often dreamed of such a place," she said, "where everything
+would be sympathetic; it's a pity that one can't have a piano taken
+out into the fields, the way I remember reading that Haydn used to
+do with his harpsichord. If I were a violinist, that's the way I'd
+do all my playing, because then one would not need to be afraid to
+open his eyes; oh, it would be fine--"
+
+Helen stopped; she was at the height of her excitement just then;
+and the climax came a moment afterwards. "Miss Davis," asked the
+man, "would you really like to arrange such a music-room?"
+
+The tone of his voice was so different that the girl comprehended
+instantly; it was this moment to which she had been rushing with so
+much exultation; but when it came her heart almost stopped beating,
+and she gave a choking gasp.
+
+"Would you really like it?" asked Mr. Harrison again, bending
+towards her earnestly.
+
+"Why, certainly," said Helen, making one blind and desperate effort
+to dodge the issue. "I'll tell you everything that is necessary."
+
+"That is not what I mean, Miss Davis!"
+
+"Not?" echoed Helen, and she tried to look at him with her frank,
+open eyes; but when she saw his burning look, she could not; she
+dropped her eyes and turned scarlet.
+
+"Miss Davis," went on the man rapidly, "I have been waiting for a
+chance to tell you this. Let me tell you now!"
+
+Helen gazed wildly about her once, as if she would have fled; then
+she stood with her arms lying helplessly at her sides, trembling in
+every nerve.
+
+"There is very little pleasure that one can get from such beautiful
+things alone, Miss Davis, and especially when he is as dulled by the
+world as myself. I thought that some day I might be able to share
+them with some one who could enjoy them more than I, but I never
+knew who that person was until last night. I know that I have not
+much else to offer you, except what wealth and position I have
+gained; and when I think of all your accomplishments, and all that
+you have to place you so far beyond me, I almost fear to offer
+myself to you. But I can only give what I have--my humble admiration
+of your beauty and your powers; and the promise to worship you, to
+give the rest of my life to seeing that you have everything in the
+world that you want. I will put all that I own at your command, and
+get as much more as I can, with no thought but of your happiness."
+
+Mr. Harrison could not have chosen words more fitted to win the
+trembling girl beside him; that, he should recognize as well as she
+did her superiority to him, removed half of his deficiency in her
+eyes.
+
+"Miss Davis," the other went on, "I cannot know how you will feel
+toward such a promise, but I cannot but feel that what I possess
+could give you opportunities of much happiness. You should have all
+the beauty about you that you wished, for there is nothing in the
+world too beautiful for you; and you should have every luxury that
+money can buy, to save you from all care. If this house seemed too
+small for you, you should have another wherever you desired it, and
+be mistress of it, and of everything in it; and if you cared for a
+social career, you should have everything to help you, and it would
+be my one happiness to see your triumph. I would give a thousand
+times what I own to have you for my wife."
+
+So the man continued, pleading his cause, until at last he stopped,
+waiting anxiously for a sign from the girl; he saw that she was
+agitated, for her breast was heaving, and her forehead flushed, but
+he could not tell the reason. "Perhaps, Miss Davis," he said,
+humbly, "you will scorn such things as I have to offer you; tell me,
+is it that?"
+
+Helen answered him, in a faint voice, "It is not that, Mr. Harrison;
+it is,--it is,--"
+
+"What, Miss Davis?"
+
+"It has been but a day! I have had no time to know you--to love
+you."
+
+And Helen stopped, afraid at the words she herself was using; for
+she knew that for the first time in her life she had stooped to a
+sham and a lie. Her whole soul was ablaze with longing just then,
+with longing for the power and the happiness which this man held out
+to her; and she meant to take him, she had no longer a thought of
+resistance. It was all the world which offered itself to her, and
+she meant to clasp it to her--to lose herself quite utterly and
+forget herself in it, and she was already drunk with the thought.
+Therefore she could not but shudder as she heard the word "love"
+upon her lips, and knew that she had used it because she wished to
+make a show of hesitation.
+
+"I did not need but one day, Miss Davis," went on the other
+pleadingly, "to know that I loved you--to know that I no longer set
+any value on the things that I had struggled all my life to win; for
+you are perfect, Miss Davis. You are so far beyond me that I have
+scarcely the courage to ask you what I do. But I _must_ ask you, and
+know my fate."
+
+He stopped again and gazed at her; and Helen looked at him wildly,
+and then turned away once more, trembling. She wished that he would
+only continue still longer, for the word was upon her lips, and yet
+it was horror for her to utter it, because she felt she ought not to
+yield so soon,--because she wanted some delay; she sought for some
+word that would be an evasion, that would make him urge her more
+strongly; she wished to be wooed and made to surrender, and yet she
+could find no pretext.
+
+"Answer me, Miss Davis!" exclaimed the other, passionately.
+
+"What--what do you wish me to say?" asked Helen faintly.
+
+"I wish you to tell me that you will be my wife; I wish you to take
+me for what I can give you for your happiness and your glory. I ask
+nothing else, I make no terms; if you will do it, it will make me
+the happiest man in the world. There is nothing else that I care for
+in life."
+
+And then as the girl still stood, flushed and shuddering, hovering
+upon the verge, he took her hand in his and begged her to reply.
+"You must not keep me in suspense!" he exclaimed. "You must tell
+me,--tell me."
+
+And Helen, almost sinking, answered him "Yes!" It was such a faint
+word that she scarcely heard it herself, but the other heard it, and
+trembling with delight, he caught her in his arms and pressed a
+burning kiss upon her cheek.
+
+The effect surprised him; for the fire which had burned Helen and
+inflamed her cheeks had been ambition, and ambition alone. It was
+the man's money that she wanted and she was stirred with no less
+horror than ever at the thought of the price to be paid; therefore
+the touch of his rough mustache upon her cheek acted upon her as an
+electric contact, and all the shame in her nature burst into flame.
+She tore herself loose with almost a scream. "No, no!" she cried.
+"Stop!"
+
+Mr. Harrison gazed at her in astonishment for a moment, scarcely
+able to find a word to say. "Miss Davis," he protested, "Helen--what
+is the matter?"
+
+"You had no right to do that!" she cried, trembling with anger.
+
+"Helen!" protested the other, "have you not just promised to be my
+wife?" And the words made the girl turn white and drop her eyes in
+fear.
+
+"Yes, yes," she panted helplessly, "but you should not--it is too
+soon!" The other stood watching her, perhaps divining a little of
+the cause of her agitation, and feeling, at any rate, that he could
+be satisfied for the present with his success. He answered, very
+humbly, "Perhaps you are right; I am very sorry for offending you,"
+and stood silently waiting until the girl's emotions had subsided a
+little, and she had looked at him again. "You will pardon me?" he
+asked.
+
+"Yes, yes," she said, weakly, "only--"
+
+"And you will not forget the promise you have made me?"
+
+"No," she answered, and then she gazed anxiously toward the door.
+"Let us go," she said imploringly; "it is all so hard for me to
+realize, and I feel so very faint."
+
+The two went slowly down the hallway, Mr. Harrison not even
+venturing to offer her his arm; outside they stood for a minute upon
+the high steps, Helen leaning against a pillar and breathing very
+hard. She dared not raise her eyes to the man beside her.
+
+"You wish to go now?" he asked, gently.
+
+"Yes, please," she replied, "I think so; it is very late."
+
+Helen scarcely knew what happened during the drive home, for she
+passed it in a half-dazed condition, almost overwhelmed by what she
+had done. She answered mechanically to all Mr. Harrison's remarks
+about his arrangements of the house and his plans elsewhere, but all
+reference to his wealth seemed powerless to waken in her a trace of
+the exultation that had swept her away before, while every allusion
+to their personal relationship was like the touch of fire. Her
+companion seemed to divine the fact, and again he begged her
+anxiously not to forget the promise she had given. Helen answered
+faintly that she would not; but the words were hard for her to say
+and it was an infinite relief to her to see Oakdale again, and to
+feel that the strain would soon be over, for the time at any rate.
+
+"I shall stay somewhere in the neighborhood," said Mr. Harrison.
+"You will let me see you often, Helen, will you not?"
+
+"Yes," answered Helen, mechanically.
+
+"I will come to-morrow," said the other, "and take you driving if
+you like; I promised to go back and lunch with your aunt to-day, as
+I thought I was to return to the city." In a moment more the
+carriage stopped in front of Helen's home, and the girl, without
+waiting for anyone to assist her, leaped out and with a hasty word
+of parting, ran into the house. She heard the horses trotting away,
+and then the door closed behind her, and she stood in the dark,
+silent hallway. She saw no one, and after gazing about her for a
+moment she stole into her little music-room and flung herself down
+upon the couch, where she lay with her head buried in her hands.
+
+It was a long time afterwards when she glanced up again; she was
+trembling all over, and her face was white.
+
+"In Heaven's name, how can I have done it?" she whispered hoarsely,
+to herself. "How can I have done it? And what _am_ I to do now?"
+
+Nur wer der Minne Macht ent-sagt, nur wer der Liebe Lust verjagt
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+  "Wie kommt's, dass du so traurig bist,
+    Da alles froh erscheint?
+  Man sieht dir's an den Augen an,
+    Gewiss, du hast geweint."
+
+Helen might have spent the afternoon in that situation, tormenting
+herself with the doubts and fears that filled her mind, had it not
+been for the fact that her presence was discovered by Elizabeth, the
+servant, who came in to clean the room. The latter of course was
+astonished to see her, but Helen was in no mood to vouchsafe
+explanations.
+
+"Just leave me alone," she said. "I do not feel very well. And don't
+tell father I am here yet."
+
+"Your father, Miss Helen!" exclaimed the woman; "didn't you get his
+letter?"
+
+"What letter?" And then poor Helen was made aware of another
+trouble.
+
+"Mr. Davis wrote Mrs. Roberts last night," answered the servant.
+"He's gone away."
+
+"Away!" cried the girl. "Where to?"
+
+"To New York." Then the woman went on to explain that Mr. Davis had
+been invited to take the place of a friend who was ill, and had left
+Oakdale for a week. Helen understood that the letter must have
+reached her aunt after her own departure.
+
+"Dear me!" the girl exclaimed, "How unfortunate! I don't want to
+stay here alone."
+
+But afterwards it flashed over her that if she did she might be able
+to have a week of quiet to regain her self-possession. "Mr. Harrison
+couldn't expect to visit me if I were alone," she thought. "But
+then, I suppose he could, too," she added hastily, "if I am engaged
+to him! And I could never stand that!"
+
+"Miss Helen," said the servant, who had been standing and watching
+her anxiously, "you look very ill; is anything the matter?"
+
+"Nothing," Helen answered, "only I want to rest. Leave me alone,
+please, Elizabeth."
+
+"Are you going to stay?" the other asked; "I must fix up your room."
+
+"I'll have to stay," said Helen. "There's nothing else to do."
+
+"Have you had lunch yet?"
+
+"No, but I don't want any; just let me be, please."
+
+Helen expected the woman to protest, but she did not. She turned
+away, and the girl sank back upon the couch and covered her face
+again.
+
+"Everything has gone wrong!" she groaned to herself, "I know I shall
+die of despair; I don't want to be here all alone with Mr. Harrison
+coming here. Dear me, I wish I had never seen him!"
+
+And Helen's nervous impatience grew upon her, until she could stand
+it no more, and she sprang up and began pacing swiftly up and down
+the room; she was still doing that when she heard a step in the hall
+and saw the faithful servant in the doorway with a tray of luncheon.
+Elizabeth asked no questions about matters that did not concern her,
+but she regarded this as her province, and she would pay no
+attention to Helen's protests. "You'll be ill if you don't eat," she
+vowed; "you look paler than I ever saw you."
+
+And so the girl sat down to attempt to please her, Elizabeth
+standing by and talking to her in the meantime; but Helen was so
+wrapped up in her own thoughts that she scarcely heard a word--until
+the woman chanced to ask one question: "Did you hear about Mr.
+Arthur?"
+
+And Helen gazed up at her. "Hear about him?" she said, "hear what
+about him?"
+
+"He's very ill," said Elizabeth. Helen gave a start.
+
+"Ill!" she gasped.
+
+"Yes," said Elizabeth, "I thought you must know; Mr. Davis was over
+to see him yesterday."
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"The doctor said he must have been fearfully run down, and he was
+out in the storm and caught a cold; and he's been in a very bad way,
+delirious and unconscious by turns for two or three days."
+
+Helen was staring at the servant in a dumb fright. "Tell me,
+Elizabeth," she cried, scarcely able to say the words, "he is not
+dangerously ill?"
+
+"The danger is over now," the other answered, "so the doctor said,
+or else Mr. Davis would never have left; but he's in a bad way and
+it may be some time before he's up again."
+
+Perhaps it was the girl's overwrought condition that made her more
+easily alarmed just then, for she was trembling all over as she
+heard those words. She had forgotten Arthur almost entirely during
+the past two days, and he came back to her at that moment as another
+thorn in her conscience.
+
+"Mr. Davis said he wrote you to go and see him," went on the
+servant; "shall you, Miss Helen?"
+
+"I--I don't know," said Helen faintly, "I'll see."
+
+As a matter of fact, she knew that she almost certainly would _not_
+go to see Arthur after what had just passed; even to have him find
+out about it was something of which she simply could not think. She
+felt dread enough at having to tell her father of what had occurred
+with Mr. Harrison, and to see Arthur, even though he did not know
+about it, she knew was not in her power.
+
+"Perhaps I ought not to have told you about it until after you had
+had your lunch; you are not eating anything, Miss Helen."
+
+"I don't want anything," said Helen, mournfully; "take it now,
+please, Elizabeth, and please do not trouble me any more. I have a
+great deal to worry me."
+
+When the woman had left the room, Helen shut the door and then sat
+down on a chair, staring blankly before her; there was a mirror just
+across the room, and her own image caught her eye, startling her by
+its pale and haggard look.
+
+"Dear me, it's dreadful!" she cried aloud, springing up. "Why _did_
+I let people trouble me in this way? I can't help Arthur, and I
+couldn't have helped him in the beginning. It's every bit of it his
+own fault, and I don't see why I should let it make me ill. And it's
+the same with the other thing; I could have been happy without all
+that wealth if I'd never seen it, and now I know I'll never be happy
+again,--oh, I know it!"
+
+And Helen began once more pacing up and down.
+
+"I never was this way before in my life," she cried with increasing
+vexation, "and I won't have it!"
+
+She clenched her hands angrily, struggling within herself to shake
+off what was tormenting her. But she might as well have tried to
+shake off a mountain from her shoulders; hers had been none of the
+stern experience that gives power and command to the character, and
+of the kind of energy that she needed she had none, and not even a
+thought of it. She tried only to forget her troubles in some of her
+old pleasures, and when she found that she could not read, and that
+the music she tried to play sounded hollow and meaningless, she
+could only fling herself down upon the sofa with a moan. There,
+realizing her own impotence, she sank into dull despair, unable any
+longer to realize the difficulties which troubled her, and with only
+one certainty in her mind--that she was more lost and helpless than
+she had ever thought it possible for her to be.
+
+Time is not a thing of much consequence under such circumstances,
+and it was a couple of hours before Helen was aroused. She heard a
+carriage stop at the door, and sprang up in alarm, with the thought
+that it might be Mr. Harrison. But as she stood trembling in the
+middle of the room she heard a voice inquiring for her, and
+recognized it as that of her aunt; a moment later Mrs. Roberts
+rushed into the room, and catching sight of Helen, flung her arms
+eagerly about her.
+
+"My dear girl," she cried, "Mr. Harrison has just told me about what
+has happened!" And then as she read her niece's state of mind in her
+countenance, she added, "I expected to find you rejoicing, Helen;
+what is the matter?"
+
+In point of fact the woman had known pretty well just how she would
+find Helen, and having no idea of leaving her to her own tormenting
+fancies, she had driven over the moment she had finished her lunch.
+"I received your father's letter," she said, without waiting for
+Helen to answer her, "so I came right over to take you back."
+
+"To take me back!" echoed Helen.
+
+"Yes, my dear; you don't suppose I mean to leave you here all alone
+by yourself, do you? And especially at such a time as this, when Mr.
+Harrison wants to see you?"
+
+"But, Aunt Polly," protested Helen, "I don't want to see him!"
+
+"Don't want to see him? Why, my dear girl, you have promised to be
+his wife!"
+
+Mrs. Roberts saw Helen shudder slightly, and so she went on quickly,
+"He is going to stay at the hotel in the village; you won't find it
+the same as being in the house with him. But I do assure you, child,
+there never was a man more madly in love than he is."
+
+"But, Auntie, dear, that Mr. Howard, too!" protested Helen,
+trembling.
+
+"He will not interfere with you, for he never makes any noise; and
+you'll not know he's there. Of course, you won't play the piano, but
+you can do anything else you choose. And Mr. Harrison will probably
+take you driving every day." Then seeing how agitated Helen was, her
+aunt put her arms around her again, and led her to the sofa. "Come,
+Helen," she said, "I don't blame you for being nervous. I know just
+how you feel, my dear."
+
+"Oh, Aunt Polly!" moaned the girl. "I am so wretched!"
+
+"I know," laughed Aunt Polly; "it's the idea of having to marry him,
+I suppose; I felt the very same way when I was in your place. But
+you'll find that wears off very quickly; you'll get used to seeing
+him. And besides, you know that you've _got_ to marry him, if you
+want any of the other happiness!"
+
+And Mrs. Roberts stopped and gazed about her. "Think, for instance,
+my dear," she went on, "of having to be content with this dingy
+little room, after having seen that magnificent place of his! Do you
+know, Helen, dear, that I really envy you; and it seems quite
+ridiculous to come over here and find you moping around. One would
+think you were a hermit and did not care anything about life."
+
+"I do care about it," said the other, "and I love beautiful things
+and all; but, Aunt Polly, I can't help thinking it's dreadful to
+have to marry."
+
+"Come and learn to like Mr. Harrison," said the other, cheerfully.
+"Helen, you are really too weak to ruin your peace of mind in this
+way; for you could see if you chose that all your troubles are of
+your own making, and that if you were really determined to be happy,
+you could do it. Why don't you, dear?"
+
+"I don't know," protested the girl, faintly; "perhaps I am weak, but
+I can't help it."
+
+"Of course not," laughed the other, "if you spend your afternoons
+shut up in a half-dark room like this. When you come with me you
+won't be able to do that way; and I tell you you'll find there's
+nothing like having social duties and an appearance to maintain in
+the world to keep one cheerful. If you didn't have me at your elbow
+I really believe you'd go all to pieces."
+
+"I fear I should," said the girl; but she could not help laughing as
+she allowed herself to be led upstairs, and to have the dust bathed
+from her face and the wrinkles smoothed from her brow. In the
+meantime her diplomatic aunt was unobtrusively dropping as many
+hints as she could think of to stir Helen to a sense of the fact
+that she had suddenly become a person of consequence; and whether it
+was these hints or merely the reaction natural to Helen, it is
+certain that she was much calmer when she went down to the carriage,
+and much more disposed to resign herself to meeting Mr. Harrison
+again. And Mrs. Roberts was correspondingly glad that she had been
+foreseeing enough to come and carry her away; she had great
+confidence in her ability to keep Helen from foolish worrying, and
+to interest her in the great future that was before her.
+
+"And then it's just as well that she should be at my house where she
+can find the comfort that she loves," she reflected. "I can see that
+she learns to love it more every day."
+
+The great thing, of course, was to keep her ambition as much awake
+as possible, and so during the drive home Mrs. Roberts' conversation
+was of the excitement which the announcement of Helen's engagement
+would create in the social world, and of the brilliant triumph which
+the rest of her life would be, and of the vast preparations which
+she was to make for it. The trousseau soon came in for mention then;
+and what woman could have been indifferent to a trousseau, even for
+a marriage which she dreaded? After that the conversation was no
+longer a task, for Helen's animation never failed to build itself up
+when it was once awake; she was so pleased and eager that the drive
+was over before she knew it, and before she had had time for even
+one unpleasant thought about meeting Mr. Harrison.
+
+It proved not to be a difficult task after all, for Mr. Harrison was
+quiet and dignified, and even a little reserved, as Helen thought,
+so that it occurred to her that perhaps he was offended at the
+vehemence with which she had repelled him. She did not know, but it
+seemed to her that perhaps it might have been his right to embrace
+her after she had promised to marry him; the thought made her
+shudder, yet she felt sure that if she had asked her aunt she would
+have learned that she was very much in the wrong indeed. Helen's
+conscience was very restless just at that time, and it was pleasant
+to be able to lull it by being a little more gracious and kind to
+her ardent lover. The latter of course responded joyfully, so that
+the remainder of the afternoon passed quite pleasantly.
+
+When Mr. Roberts arrived and had been acquainted with the tidings,
+he of course sought the first opportunity to see the girl, and to
+congratulate her upon her wonderful fortune. Helen had always found
+in her uncle a grave, business-like person, who treated her with
+indifference, and therefore inspired her with awe; it was not a
+little stirring to her vanity to find that she was now a person of
+sufficient consequence to reverse the relation. This fact did yet a
+little more to make her realize the vastness of her sudden conquest,
+and so throughout dinner she was almost as exulting in her own heart
+as she had been at the same time on the previous day.
+
+Her animation mounted throughout the evening, for Mr. Harrison and
+her aunt talked of the future--of endless trips abroad, and of
+palatial houses and royal entertainments at home--until the girl was
+completely dazed. Afterwards, when she and Mr. Harrison were left
+alone, Helen fascinated her companion as completely as ever, and was
+radiant herself, and rejoicing. As if to cap the climax, Mr.
+Harrison broached the subject of a trip to New York, to see if she
+could find anything at the various picture dealers to suit her music
+room, and also of a visit to Fairview to meet an architect and
+discuss her plan there.
+
+The girl went up to her room just as completely full of exultation
+as she had been upon the night before, yet more comfortable in the
+conviction that there would be no repetition of that night's worry.
+Yet even as the thought occurred to her, it made her tremble; and as
+if some fiend had arranged it especially for her torment, as she
+passed down the hall a nurse came silently out of one of the rooms,
+and through the half open doorway Helen fancied that she heard a low
+moan. She shuddered and darted into her own room and locked the
+door; yet that did not exclude the image of the sufferer, or keep it
+from suggesting a train of thought that plunged the girl into
+misery. It made her think of Arthur, and of the haggard look that
+had been upon his face when he left her; and all Helen's angry
+assertions that it was not her fault could not keep her from
+tormenting herself after that. Always the fact was before her that
+however sick he might be, even dying, she could never bear to see
+him again, and so Arthur became the embodiment of her awakening
+conscience.
+
+The result was that the girl slept very little that night, spending
+half of it in fact alternately sitting in a chair and pacing the
+room in agitation, striving in vain to find some gleam of light to
+guide her out of the mazes in which she was lost. The gray dawn
+found her tossing feverishly about upon her pillow, yearning for the
+time when she had been happy, and upbraiding herself for having been
+drawn into her present trouble.
+
+When she arose later on, she was more pale and wearied than she had
+been upon the morning before; then she had at least possessed a
+resolution, while this time she was only helpless and despairing.
+Thus her aunt found her when she came in to greet her, and the
+dismay of the worthy matron may be imagined.
+
+However, being an indefatigable little body, she set bravely to work
+again; first of all, by rebuking the girl for her weakness she
+managed to rouse her to effort once more, and then by urging the
+necessity of seeing people and of hiding her weakness, she managed
+to obtain at last a semblance of cheerfulness. In the meantime Mrs.
+Roberts was helping her to dress and to remove all traces of her
+unhappiness, so that when Helen descended to breakfast she had
+received her first lesson in one of the chief tasks of the social
+regime:
+
+  "Full many in the silent night
+    Have wept their grief away;
+  And in the morn you fancy
+    Their hearts were ever gay."
+
+And Helen played her part so well that Mrs. Roberts was much
+encouraged, and beamed upon her across the table. As a matter of
+fact, because her natural happiness was not all crushed, and because
+playing a part was not easy to the girl, she was very soon
+interested in the various plans that were being discussed. When Mr.
+Harrison called later on and proposed a drive, she accepted with
+genuine pleasure.
+
+To be sure, she found it a trifle less thrilling than on the day
+before, for the novelty was gone; but that fact did not cause her
+much worry. In all her anticipations of the pleasure before her, it
+had occurred to her as little as it occurs to others in her
+situation to investigate the laws of the senses through which the
+pleasure is to be obtained. There is a whole moral philosophy to be
+extracted from the little word "ennui" by those who know; but Helen
+was not of the knowing. She believed that when she was tired of the
+horses she could delight herself with her beautiful house, and that
+when she was tired of the house she could have a new one. All her
+life she had been deriving ecstasy from beautiful things, from
+dresses, and flowers, and books, and music, and pictures; and of
+course it was only necessary to have an infinite quantity of such
+things in order to be infinitely happy. The way to have the infinite
+quantity was to marry Mr. Harrison, or at any rate that was Helen's
+view, and she was becoming more and more irritated because it did
+not work well in practice, and more and more convinced that her aunt
+must be right in blaming her weakness.
+
+In the meantime, being in the open air and among all the things that
+she loved, she was bound to rejoice once more; and rejoice she did,
+not even allowing herself to be hindered by Mr. Harrison's too
+obvious failures to comprehend her best remarks. Helen argued that
+she was not engaged to the man because of his cleverness, and that
+when she had come to the infinite happiness towards which she was
+traveling so fast, she would have inspiration enough for two. She
+had enough for the present to keep them both happy throughout the
+drive, and when she returned she found that some of the neighbors
+had driven over to see her, and to increase her excitement by their
+congratulations. The Machiavellian Aunt Polly had told the news to
+several friends on the day before, knowing full well that it would
+spread during the night, and that Helen would have her first taste
+of triumph the next day.
+
+And so it continued, and exactly as on the night before, the
+feverish excitement swept Helen on until the bedtime hour arrived.
+Then she went up into her room alone, to wrestle with the same
+dreadful specter as before.
+
+The story of that day was the story of all that followed; Helen was
+destined to find that she might sweep herself away upon the wings of
+her ambition as often as she chose, and revel all she pleased in the
+thought of Mr. Harrison's wealth; but when the excitement was over,
+and she came to be all alone, she could think only of the one
+dreadful fact of the necessity of marrying him. She was paying a
+Faustus price for her happiness; and in the night time the price
+stared at her, and turned all her happiness to misery.
+
+A state of mind such as this was so alien to Helen that it would
+have been strange indeed if she had sunk into it without protest and
+rebellion; as day after day passed, and the misery continued, her
+dissatisfaction with everything about her built itself into a
+climax; more and more plainly she was coming to see the widening of
+the gulf between the phantom she was pursuing and the place, where
+she stood. Finally there came one day, nearly a week after her
+engagement, when Helen was so exhausted and so wretched that she had
+made up her mind to remain in her room, and had withstood all her
+aunt's attempts to dissuade her. She had passed the morning in bed,
+between equally vain attempts to become interested in a book and to
+make up for the sleep she had missed during the night, and was just
+about giving up both in despair when the maid entered to say that
+Elizabeth wished to see her. Helen gave a start, for she knew that
+something must be wrong; when the woman entered she asked
+breathlessly what it was.
+
+"It's about Mr. Arthur," was the hurried reply, and Helen turned
+paler than ever, and clutched the bedclothing in her trembling
+hands.
+
+"What is it?" she cried.
+
+"Why you know, Miss Helen," said Elizabeth, "your father wrote me to
+go and see him whenever I could, and I've just come from there this
+morning."
+
+"And how is he?"
+
+"He looked dreadful, but he had gotten up to-day, and he was sitting
+by the window when I came in. He was hardly a shadow of himself."
+
+Helen was trembling. "You have not been to see him?" asked the
+woman.
+
+"No," said Helen, faintly, "I--" and then she stopped.
+
+"Why not?" Elizabeth inquired anxiously.
+
+"He did not ask for me, did he?" asked the girl, scarcely able to
+utter the words.
+
+"No," said the woman, "but you know, everybody told me you were
+engaged to a rich man--"
+
+And Helen started forwrard with a cry. "Elizabeth!" she gasped,
+"you--you didn't---!"
+
+"Yes," said the other, "I told him." And then seeing the girl's look
+of terror, she stopped short. Helen stared at her for fully half a
+minute without uttering a word; and then the woman went on, slowly,
+"It was very dreadful, Miss Helen; he went almost crazy, and I was
+so frightened that I didn't know what I should do. Please tell me
+what is the matter."
+
+Helen was still gazing dumbly at the woman, seeming not to have
+heard the last question. "I--I can't tell you," she said, when it
+was repeated again; "you ought not to have told him, Elizabeth."
+
+"Miss Helen," cried the woman, anxiously, "you _must_ do something!
+For I am sure that I know what is the matter; he loves you, and you
+must know it, too. And it will certainly kill him; weak as he was,
+he rushed out of the house, and I could not find him anywhere. Miss
+Helen, you _must_ go and see him!"
+
+The girl sat with the same look of helpless fright upon her face,
+and with her hands clenched tightly between her knees; the other
+went on talking hurriedly, but Helen scarcely heard anything after
+that; her mind was too full of its own thoughts. It was several
+minutes more before she even noticed that the woman was still
+insisting that she must go to see Artheur. "Please leave me now!"
+she cried wildly; "please leave me! I cannot explain anything,--I
+want to be alone!" And when the door was shut she became once more
+dumb and motionless, staring blankly ahead of her, a helpless victim
+of her own wretched thoughts.
+
+"That is the end of it," she groaned to herself; "oh, that is the
+end of it!"
+
+Winkt dir nicht hold die hehre Burg?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+  Thou would'st be happy,
+  Endlessly happy,
+  Or endlessly wretched.
+
+Helen was quite powerless to do anything whatever after that last
+piece of misfortune; it seemed as if she could have remained just
+where she was for hours, shuddering at the sight of what was
+happening, yet utterly helpless before it. The world was taking a
+very serious aspect indeed to the bright and laughing girl, who had
+thought of it as the home of birds and flowers; yet she knew not
+what to make of the change, or how she was to blame for it, and she
+could only sit still and tremble. She was in the same position and
+the same state of mind when her aunt entered the room some minutes
+later.
+
+Mrs. Roberts stood watching her silently, and then as Helen turned
+her gaze of pleading misery upon her, she came forward and sat down
+in a chair by the bedside, and fixed her keen eyes upon the girl.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Polly!" cried Helen; "what am I to do? I am so wretched!"
+
+"I have just been talking to Elizabeth," said Mrs. Roberts, with
+some sternness, "and she's been telling you about Arthur--is that
+what is the matter with you, Helen?"
+
+"Yes," was the trembling response, "what can I do?"
+
+"Tell me, Helen, in the first place," demanded the other. "When you
+saw Arthur that day in the woods, what did you do? Did you make him
+any promises?"
+
+"No, Auntie."
+
+"Did you hold out any hopes to him? Did you say anything to him at
+all about love?"
+
+"I--I told him it was impossible," said Helen, eagerly, clutching at
+that little crumb of comfort.
+
+"Then in Heaven's name, child," cried the other in amazement, "what
+is the matter with you? If Arthur chooses to carry on in this
+fashion, why in the world should you punish yourself in this
+horrible way? What is the matter with you, Helen? Are you
+responsible to him for your marriage? I don't know which is the most
+absurd, the boy's behavior, or your worrying about it."
+
+"But, Auntie," stammered the girl, "he is so ill--he might die!"
+
+"Die, bosh!" exclaimed Mrs. Roberts; "he frightened Elizabeth by his
+ravings; it is the most absurd nonsense,--he a penniless
+school-teacher, and the Lord only knows what besides! I only wish
+I'd been there to talk to him, for I don't think he'd have
+frightened me! What in the world do you suppose he wants, anyway? Is
+he mad enough to expect you to marry him?"
+
+"I don't know, Aunt Polly," said Helen, weakly.
+
+"I'd never have believed that Arthur could be capable of anything so
+preposterous as this behavior," vowed Mrs. Roberts; "and then to
+come up here and find you wearing yourself to a skeleton about it!"
+
+"It isn't only that, Auntie," protested Helen, "there is so much
+else; I am miserable!"
+
+"Yes," said the other, grimly; "I see it as well as you, and there's
+just about as much reason in any of it as in the matter of Arthur."
+Then Mrs. Roberts moved her chair nearer, and after gazing at Helen
+for a moment, began again. "I've been meaning to say something to
+you, and it might just as well be said now. For all this matter is
+coming to a climax, Helen; it can't go on this way very much longer,
+for you'll kill yourself. It's got to be settled one way or the
+other, once and for all." And Mrs. Roberts stopped and took a deep
+breath, preparing for one more struggle; Helen still gazed at her
+helplessly.
+
+"I'm not going to say anything more about Arthur," declared the
+woman; "if you choose to torment yourself about such absurdities, I
+can't help it. Arthur's behavior is not the least your fault, and
+you know it; but all the other trouble is your fault, and there's
+nobody else to blame. For the question is just as simple as the day,
+Helen, and you must see it and decide it; you've got to choose
+between one of two things, either to marry Mr. Harrison or to give
+him up; and there's no excuse for your hesitating and tormenting
+yourself one day longer."
+
+Then the indomitable woman set to work at her old task of conjuring
+up before the girl's eyes all the allurements that had so often made
+her heart throb; she, pictured Fairview and all its luxuries, and
+the admiration and power that must be hers when she was mistress of
+it; and she mentioned every other source of pleasure that she knew
+would stir Helen's eager thirst. After having hammered away at that
+theme until she saw signs of the effect she desired, she turned to
+the other side of the picture.
+
+"Helen," she demanded, "is it really possible for you to think of
+giving up these things and going back to live in that miserable
+little house at Oakdale? Can you not see that you would be simply
+burying yourself alive? You might just as well be as ugly as those
+horrible Nelson girls across the way. Helen, you _know_ you belong
+to a different station in life than those people! You know you have
+a right to some of the beautiful things in the world, and you know
+that after this vision of everything perfect that you have seen, you
+can never possibly be happy in your ignorant girlish way again. You
+have promised Mr. Harrison to marry him, and made him go to all the
+expense that he has; and you've told everybody you know, and all the
+world is talking about your triumph; and you've had Mr. Roberts go
+to all the trouble he has about your trousseau,--surely, Helen, you
+cannot dream of changing your mind and giving all this up. It is
+ridiculous to talk about it."
+
+"I don't want to give it up," protested the girl, moaning, "but, oh,
+I can't--"
+
+"I know!" exclaimed the other. "I've heard all that a thousand
+times. Don't you see, Helen, that you've simply _got_ to marry him!
+There is no other possibility to think of, and all of your weakness
+is that you don't perceive that fact, and make up your mind to it.
+Just see how absurd you are, to make yourself ill in this way."
+
+"But I can't help it, Auntie, indeed I can't!"
+
+"You could help it if you wanted to," vowed the other. "I am quite
+disgusted with you. I have told you a thousand times that this is
+all an imaginary terror that you are conjuring up for yourself, to
+ruin your health and happiness. When you have married him you will
+see that it's just as I tell you, and you'll laugh at yourself for
+feeling as you did."
+
+"But it's in the meantime, Aunt Polly--it's having to think about
+it that frightens me."
+
+"Well, let me tell you one thing," said Mrs. Roberts; "if I found
+that I couldn't cure myself of such weakness as this, sooner than
+let it ruin my life and make everyone about me wretched, I'd settle
+the matter right now and forever; I'd marry him within a week,
+Helen!" And the resolute little woman clenched her hands grimly.
+"Yes, I would," she exclaimed, "and if I found I hadn't strength
+enough to hold my resolution, I'd marry him to-morrow, and there'd
+be an end to it!"
+
+"You don't realize, Helen, how you treat Mr. Harrison," she went on,
+as the girl shuddered; "and how patient he is. You'd not find many
+men like him in that respect, my dear. For he's madly in love with
+you, and you treat him as coldly as if he were a stranger. I can see
+that, for I watch you, and I can see how it offends him. You have
+promised to be his wife, Helen, and yet you behave in this
+ridiculous way. You are making yourself ill, and you look years
+older every day, yet you make not the least attempt to conquer
+yourself."
+
+So she went on, and Helen began to feel more and more that she was
+doing a very great wrong indeed. Mrs. Roberts' sharp questioning
+finally drew from her the story of her reception of Mr. Harrison's
+one kiss, and Helen was made to seem quite ridiculous and even rude
+in her own eyes; her aunt lectured her with such unaccustomed
+sternness that she was completely frightened, and came to look upon
+her action as the cause of all the rest of her misery.
+
+"It's precisely on that account that you still regard him as a
+stranger," Mrs. Roberts vowed; "of course he makes no more advances,
+and you might go on forever in that way." Helen promised that the
+next time she was alone with Mr. Harrison she would apologize for
+her rudeness, and treat him in a different manner.
+
+"I wish," Mrs. Roberts went on, "that I could only make you see as
+plainly as I see, Helen, how very absurd your conduct is. Day by day
+you are filling your mind with the thought of the triumph that is to
+be yours, so that it takes hold of you and becomes all your life to
+you; and all the time you know that to possess it there is one thing
+which you have got to do. And instead of realizing the fact and
+reconciling yourself to it, you sit down and torment yourself as if
+you were a creature without reason or will. Can you not see that you
+must be wretched?"
+
+"Yes, I see," said Helen, weakly.
+
+"You see it, but you make no effort to do anything else! You make me
+almost give you up in despair. You will not see that this weakness
+has only to be conquered once, and that then your life can be
+happy!"
+
+"But, Auntie, dear," exclaimed Helen, "it is so hard!"
+
+"Anything in life would be hard for a person who had no more
+resolution than you," responded the other. "Because you know nothing
+about the world, you fancy you are doing something very unusual and
+dreadful; but I assure you it's what every girl has to do when she
+marries in society. And there's no one of them but would laugh at
+your behavior; you just give Mr. Harrison up, and see how long it
+would be before somebody else would take him! Oh, child, how I wish
+I could give you a little of my energy; you would go to the life
+that is before you in a very different way, I promise you! For
+really the only way that you can have any happiness in the world is
+to be strong and take it, and if you once had a purpose and some
+determination you would feel like a different person. Make up your
+mind what you wish to do, Helen, and go and do it, and take hold of
+yourself and master yourself, and show what you are made of!"
+
+Aunt Polly was quite sublime as she delivered that little exordium;
+and to the girl, anxious as she was for her old strength and
+happiness, the words were like music. They made her blood flow
+again, and there was a light in her eyes.
+
+"Oh, Auntie," she said, "I'll try to."
+
+"Try!" echoed the other, "what comes of all your trying? You have
+been reveling for a week in visions of what is to be yours; and that
+ought surely to have been enough time for you to make up your mind;
+and yet every time that I find you alone, all your resolution is
+gone; you simply have no strength, Helen!"
+
+"Oh, I will have it!" cried the girl; "I don't mean to do this way
+any more; I never saw it so plainly."
+
+"You see it now, because I'm talking to you, and you always do see
+it then. But I should think the very terror of what you have
+suffered would serve as a motive, and make you quite desperate. Can
+you not see that your very safety depends upon your taking this
+resolution and keeping it, and not letting go of it, no matter what
+happens? From what I've seen of you, Helen, I know that if you do
+not summon all your energies together, and fling aside every purpose
+but this, and act upon it _now_, while you feel it so keenly, you
+will surely fail. For anybody can withstand a temptation for a
+while, when his mind is made up; all the trouble is in keeping it
+made up for a long time. I tell you if I found I was losing, sooner
+than surrender I would do anything, absolutely anything!"
+
+Mrs. Roberts had many more words of that heroic kind; she was a
+vigorous little body, and she was quite on fire with enthusiasm just
+then, and with zeal for the consummation of the great triumph.
+Perhaps there is no occupation of men quite without its poetry, and
+even a society leader may attain to the sublime in her devotion to
+life as she sees it. Besides that the over-zealous woman was exalted
+to eloquence just then by a feeling that she was nearer her goal
+than ever before, and that she had only to spur Helen on and keep
+her in her present glow to clinch the matter; for the girl was very
+much excited indeed, and showed both by what she said and by the
+change in her behavior that she was determined to have an end to her
+own wretchedness and to conquer her shrinking from her future
+husband at any cost. During all the time that she was dressing, her
+aunt was stirring her resolution with the same appeal, so that Helen
+felt that she had never seen her course so clearly before, or had so
+much resolution to follow it. She spread out her arms and drank deep
+breaths of relief because she was free from her misery, and knew how
+to keep so; and at the same time, because she still felt tremblings
+of fear, she clenched her hands in grim earnestness. When she was
+ready to descend she was flushed and trembling with excitement, and
+quite full of her resolution. "She won't have to go very far," Mrs.
+Roberts mused, "for the man is madly in love with her."
+
+"I want you to look as beautiful as you can, dear," she said aloud,
+by way of changing the subject; "besides Mr. Harrison, there'll be
+another visitor at lunch to-day."
+
+"A stranger?" echoed Helen.
+
+"You remember, dear, when I told you of Mr. Howard I spoke of a
+third person who was coming--Lieutenant Maynard?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said the girl; "is he here?"
+
+"Just until the late train this evening," answered the other. "He
+got his leave as he expected, but of course he didn't want to come
+while Mr. Howard was so ill."
+
+Helen remembered with a start having heard someone say that Mr.
+Howard was better. "Auntie," she cried, "he won't be at lunch, will
+he? I don't want to see him."
+
+"He won't, dear," was the reply; "the doctor said he could leave his
+room to-day, but it will be afterwards, when you have gone driving
+with Mr. Harrison."
+
+"And will he leave soon?" asked Helen, shuddering; the mention of
+the invalid's name had instantly brought to her mind the thought of
+Arthur.
+
+"He will leave to-morrow, I presume; he probably knows he has caused
+us trouble enough," answered Mrs. Roberts; and then reading Helen's
+thought, and seeing a sign upon her face of the old worry, she made
+haste to lead her down the stairs.
+
+Helen found Mr. Harrison in conversation with a tall,
+distinguished-looking man in naval uniform, to whom she was
+introduced by her aunt; the girl saw that the officer admired her,
+which was only another stimulant to her energies, so that she was at
+her cleverest during the meal that followed. She accepted the
+invitation of Mr. Harrison to go with him to Fairview during the
+afternoon, and after having been in her room all the morning, she
+was looking forward to the drive with no little pleasure, as
+also--to the meeting with the architect whom Mr. Harrison said would
+be there.
+
+It seemed once as if the plan were to be interrupted, and as if her
+excitement and resolution were to come to naught, for a telegram
+arrived for Mr. Harrison, and he announced that he was called away
+to New York upon some business. But as it proved, this was only
+another circumstance to urge her on in carrying out her defiant
+resolution, for Mr. Harrison added that he would not have to leave
+until the evening, and her aunt gazed at the girl significantly, to
+remind her of how little time there was. Helen felt her heart give a
+sudden leap, and felt a disagreeable trembling seize upon her; her
+animation became more feverish yet in consequence.
+
+After the luncheon, when she ran up for her hat and gloves, her aunt
+followed her, but Helen shook her off with a laughing assurance that
+everything would be all right, and then ran out into the hallway;
+she did not go on, however, for something that she saw caused her to
+spring quickly back, and turn pale.
+
+"What is it?" whispered her aunt, as Helen put her finger to her
+lips.
+
+"It's _he!_" replied the girl, shuddering; "wait!"
+
+"He" was the unfortunate invalid, who was passing down the hallway
+upon the arm of Lieutenant Maynard; Helen shook her head at all her
+aunt's laughing protests, and could not be induced to leave the room
+until the two had passed on; then she ran down, and leaving the
+house by another door, sprang into the carriage with Mr. Harrison
+and was whirled away, waving a laughing good-by to her aunt.
+
+The fresh air and the swift motion soon completed the reaction from
+Helen's morning unhappiness; and as generally happened when she was
+much excited, her imagination carried her away in one of her wild
+flights of joy, so that her companion was as much lost as ever in
+admiration and delight. Helen told him countless stories, and made
+countless half-comprehended witticisms, and darted a great many
+mischievous glances which were comprehended much better; when they
+had passed within the gates of Fairview, being on private land she
+felt even less need of restraint, and sang "Dich, theure Halle,
+gruss' ich wieder!" and laughed at her own cleverness quite as much
+as if her companion had understood it all.
+
+After that it was a new delight to discover that work was
+progressing rapidly upon the trimming of the forest and the turning
+of the grass-grown road into a broad avenue; likewise the "hay crop"
+was in, and the lawn plowed and raked and ready for grass seed, and
+the undesirable part of the old furniture carted away,--all of which
+things Helen knew had been done according to her commands. And
+scarcely had all this been appreciated properly before the architect
+arrived; Helen was pleased with him because for one thing he was
+evidently very much impressed by her beauty, and for another because
+he entered so understandingly into all her ideas. He and the girl
+spent a couple of the happiest hours in discussing the details of
+the wonderful music room, a thing which seemed to her more full of
+delightful possibilities than any other in all her radiant future;
+it was a sort of a child's dream to her, with a fairy godmother to
+make it real, and her imagination ran riot in a vision of banks of
+flowers, and of paintings of all things that embody the joys of
+music, the "shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses." At night the
+whole was to be illuminated in such a way as to give these
+verisimilitude, and in the daytime it would be no less beautiful,
+because it was to be almost all glass upon two sides. Helen was
+rejoiced that the architect realized the importance of the fact that
+"a music room ought to be out of doors;" and then as she made the
+further welcome discovery that the moon would shine into it, she
+vowed eagerly that there would be no lights at all in her music room
+at those times. Afterwards she told a funny story of how Schumann
+had been wont to improvise under such circumstances, until his
+next-door neighbor was so struck by the romance of it that he
+proceeded to imitate it, and to play somebody or other's technical
+studies whenever the moon rose; at which narrative Helen and the
+architect laughed very heartily, and Mr. Harrison with them, though
+he would not have known the difference between a technical study and
+the "Moonlight Sonata."
+
+Altogether, Helen was about as happy as ever throughout that
+afternoon, tho one who watched her closely might have thought there
+was something nervous about her animation, especially later on, when
+the talk with the architect was nearing its end; Helen's eyes had
+once or twice wandered uneasily about the room, and when finally the
+man rose to leave, she asked him with a sudden desperate resolution
+to look over the rest of the rooms and see what he thought of her
+suggestions. The latter expressed himself as pleased to oblige her,
+but he would probably have been somewhat chagrined had he known how
+little Helen really attended to his remarks; her mind was in a
+whirl, and all that he said sounded distant and vague; her one wish
+was that he might stay and give her time to think.
+
+But Helen found the uselessness of shrinking, and the time came at
+last when she saw to her despair that there was no more to say, and
+that the man must go. In a few minutes more he was actually gone,
+and she was left all alone in the great house with Mr. Harrison.
+
+The two went back into the dining room, where Mr. Harrison stood
+leaning his hand upon the table, and Helen stood in front of him,
+her lips trembling. Twice she made a faint attempt to speak, and
+then she turned and began pacing up and down the room in agitation.
+Mr. Harrison was watching her, seeing that there was something on
+her mind, and also that her emotion made her more beautiful and more
+disturbing to him than ever.
+
+At last Helen went and sat down upon a sofa at one side, and
+clenching her hands very tightly about her knees, looked up at him
+and said, in a faint voice, "I had something to say to you, Mr.
+Harrison." Then she stopped, and her eyes fell, and her breath came
+very hard.
+
+"What is it, dear?" asked Mr. Harrison gently.
+
+And Helen's lips trembled more than ever, and her voice sank still
+lower as she said, "I--I don't know how to begin."
+
+The other was silent for a few moments more, after which he came
+slowly across the room and sat down beside her.
+
+"Helen," he said, "I had something to say to you also; suppose I say
+it first?"
+
+The girl's chest was heaving painfully, and her heart throbbing
+violently, but she gazed into his eyes, and smiled, and answered him
+"Very well." He took one of her burning hands in his, and she made
+no resistance.
+
+"Helen, dear," he said, "do you remember it was nearly a week ago
+that we stood in this same room, and that you promised to be my
+wife? You were very cold to me then. I have been waiting patiently
+for you to change a little, not venturing to say anything for fear
+of offending you. But it is very hard--"
+
+He had bent forward pleadingly, and his face was very close to hers,
+trying to read her heart. Perhaps it was well that he could not, for
+it would have frightened him. The moment was one of fearful
+suffering for Helen, tho there was no sign of it, except that she
+was trembling like a leaf, and that her lips were white. There was
+just a moment of suspense, and then with a cruel effort she mastered
+herself and gazed up at the man, a smile forcing itself to her lips
+again.
+
+"What is it that you wish?" she asked.
+
+"I want you to care for me," the other said--"to love me just a
+little, Helen; will you?"
+
+"I--I think so," was the reply, in a scarcely audible voice.
+
+And Mr. Harrison pressed her hand in his and bent forward eagerly.
+"Then I may kiss you, dear?" he asked; "you will not mind?"
+
+And Helen bowed her head and answered, "No." In this same instant,
+as she sank forward the man clasped her in his arms; he pressed her
+upon his bosom, and covered her cheeks and forehead with his
+passionate, burning kisses. Helen, crushed and helpless in his
+grasp, felt a revulsion of feeling so sudden and so overwhelming
+that it was an agony to her, and she almost screamed aloud. She was
+choking and shuddering, and her cheeks were on fire, while in the
+meantime Mr. Harrison, almost beside himself with passion, pressed
+her tighter to him and poured out his protestations of devotion.
+Helen bore it until she was almost mad with the emotion that had
+rushed over her, and then she made a wild effort to tear herself
+free. Her hair was disordered, and her face red, and her whole being
+throbbing with shame, but he still held her in his tight embrace.
+
+"You are not angry, Helen dear?" he asked.
+
+"No," the girl gasped
+
+"You told me that I might kiss you," he said; and she was so choking
+with her emotion that she could not answer a word, she could only
+shudder and submit to his will. And Mr. Harrison, supposing that her
+emotions were very different from what they were, rested her head
+upon his shoulder, smoothing back her tangled hair and whispering
+into her ear how beautiful she was beyond any dream of his, and how
+the present moment was the happiest of his lifetime.
+
+"I thought it would never come, dear," he said, kissing her forehead
+again, "you were so very cold." Helen had not yet ceased fighting
+the fearful battle in her own heart, and so as he looked into her
+eyes, she gazed up at him and forced another ghastly smile to her
+lips: they looked so very beautiful that Mr. Harrison kissed them
+again and again, and he would probably have been content to kiss
+them many times more, and to forget everything else in the bliss,
+had Helen been willing.
+
+But she felt just then that if the strain continued longer she would
+go mad; with a laugh that was half hysterical, she tore herself
+loose by main force, and sprang up, reminding the other that he had
+a train to catch. Mr. Harrison demurred, but the girl would hear no
+more, and she took him by the hand and led him to the door, still
+laughing, and very much flushed and excited, so that he thought she
+was happier than ever. It would have startled him could he have seen
+her as he went to call for the horses,--how she staggered and clung
+to a pillar for support, as white as the marble she leaned against.
+
+He did not see her, however, and when the two were driving rapidly
+away she was as vivacious as ever; Helen had fought yet one more
+conflict, and her companion was not skilled enough in the study of
+character to perceive that it was a desperate and hysterical kind of
+animation. Poor Helen was facing gigantic shadows just then, and
+life wore its most fearful and menacing look to her; she had plunged
+so far in her contest that it was now a battle for life and death,
+and with no quarter. She had made the choice of "Der Atlas," of
+endless joy or endless sorrow, and in her struggle to keep the joy
+she was becoming more and more frantic, more and more terrified at
+the thought of the other possibility. She knew that to fail now
+would mean shame and misery more overwhelming than she could bear,
+and so she was laughing and talking with frenzied haste; and every
+now and then she would stop and shudder, and then race wildly on,--
+
+  "Like one, that on a lonesome road
+    Doth walk in fear and dread,
+  And having once turned round walks on,
+    And turns no more his head;
+  Because he knows a frightful fiend
+    Doth close behind him tread."
+
+And so all through the ride, because the girl's shame and fear
+haunted her more and more, she became more and more hysterical, and
+more and more desperate; and Mr. Harrison thought that he had never
+seen her so brilliant, and so daring, and so inspired; nor did he
+have the least idea how fearfully overwrought she was, until
+suddenly as they came to a fork in the road he took a different one
+than she expected, and she clutched him wildly by the arm. "Why do
+you do that?" she almost screamed. "Stop!"
+
+"What?" he asked in surprise. "Take this road?"
+
+"Yes!" exclaimed Helen. "Stop! Stop!"
+
+"But it's only half a mile or so farther," said Mr. Harrison,
+reining up his horses, "and I thought you'd like the change."
+
+"Yes," panted Helen, with more agitation than ever. "But I
+can't,--we'd have to go through Hilltown!"
+
+The wondering look of course did not leave the other's face at that
+explanation. "You object to Hilltown?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," said Helen, shuddering; "it is a horrible place."
+
+"Why, I thought it was a beautiful town," laughed he. "But of course
+it is for you to say." Then he gazed about him to find a place to
+turn the carriage. "We'll have to go on a way," he said. "The road
+is too narrow here. I'm sorry I didn't ask you, but I had no idea it
+made any difference."
+
+They continued, however, for fully a mile, and the road remained
+narrow, so that there was danger of upsetting in the ditch if they
+tried to turn. "What do you wish me to do?" Mr. Harrison asked with
+a smile. "The more we go on the longer it will take us if we are to
+go back, and I may miss my train; is your prejudice against Hilltown
+so very strong, Miss Davis?"
+
+"Oh, no," Helen answered, with a ghastly smile. "Pray go on; it's of
+no consequence."
+
+As a matter of fact, it was of the greatest consequence; for that
+incident marked the turning point of the battle in Helen's heart.
+Her power seemed to go from her with every turn of the wheels that
+brought her nearer to that dreaded place, and she became more and
+more silent, and more conscious of the fearful fact that her
+wretchedness was mastering her again. It seemed to her terrified
+imagination as if everything was growing dark and threatening, as
+before the breaking of a thunderstorm.
+
+"You must indeed dislike Hilltown, Miss Davis," said her companion,
+smiling. "Why are you so very silent?"
+
+Helen made no reply; she scarcely heard him, in fact, so taken up
+was she with what was taking place in her own mind; all her thoughts
+then were about Arthur and what had become of him, and what he was
+thinking about her; and chiefest of all, because her cheeks and
+forehead had a fearfully conscious feeling, what he would think,
+could he know what she had just been doing. Thus it was that as the
+houses of Hilltown drew near, remorse and shame and terror were
+rising, and her frantic protests against them were weakening, until
+suddenly every emotion was lost in suspense, and the shadows of the
+great elm-trees that arched the main street of the town closed them
+in. Helen knew the house where Arthur lodged, and knew that she
+should pass it in another minute; she could do nothing but wait and
+watch and tremble.
+
+The carriage rattled on, gazed at by many curious eyes, for everyone
+in Hilltown knew about the young beauty and the prize she had
+caught; but Helen saw no one, and had eyes for only one thing, the
+little white house where Arthur lodges. The carriage swept by and
+she saw no one, but she saw that the curtain of Arthur's room was
+drawn, and she shuddered at the thought, "Suppose he should be
+dying!" Yet it was a great load off her mind to have escaped seeing
+him, and she was beginning to breathe again and ask herself if she
+still might not win the battle, when the carriage came to the end of
+the town, and to a sight that froze her blood.
+
+There was a tavern by the roadside, a low saloon that was the curse
+of the place, and she saw from the distance a figure come out of the
+door. Her heart gave a fearful throb, for it was a slender figure,
+clad in black, hatless and with disordered hair and clothing. In a
+moment more, as Helen clutched the rail beside her and stared
+wildly, the carriage had swept on and come opposite the man; and he
+glanced up into Helen's eyes, and she recognized the face, in spite
+of all its ghastly whiteness and its sunken cheeks; it was Arthur!
+
+There was just an instant's meeting of their looks, and then the
+girl was whirled on; but that one glance was enough to leave her as
+if paralyzed. She made no sound, nor any movement, and so her
+companion did not even know that anything had happened until they
+had gone half a mile farther; then as he chanced to glance at her he
+reined up his horses with a cry.
+
+"Helen!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter?" The girl clutched his
+arm so tightly that he winced, powerful man that he was. "Take me
+home," she gasped. "Oh, quick, please take me home!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+    "Peace! Sit you down,
+  And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
+  If it be made of penetrable stuff."
+
+Helen ran up to her room when she reached home, and shut herself in,
+and after that she had nothing to do but suffer. All of her
+excitement was gone from her then, and with it every spark of her
+strength; the fiends that had been pursuing her rose up and seized
+hold of her, and lashed her until she writhed and cried aloud in
+agony. She was helpless to resist them, knowing not which way to
+turn or what to do,--completely cowed and terrified. But there was
+no more sinking into the dull despair that had mastered her before;
+the face of Arthur, as she had seen it in that one glimpse, had been
+burned into her memory with fire, and she could not shut it from her
+sight; when the fact that he had come from the tavern, and what that
+must mean rose before her, it was almost more than she could bear,
+cry out as she might that she could not help it, that she never
+could have helped it, that she had nothing to do with it. Moreover,
+if there was any possibility of the girl's driving out that specter,
+there was always another to take its place. It was not until she was
+alone in her room, until all her resolution was gone, and all of her
+delusions, that she realized the actual truth about what she had
+done that afternoon; it was like a nightmare to her then. She seemed
+always to feel the man's arms clasping her, and whenever she thought
+of his kisses her forehead burned her like fire, so that she flung
+herself down by the bedside, and buried it in the pillows.
+
+It was thus that her aunt found her when she came in to call Helen
+to dinner; and this time the latter's emotions were so real and so
+keen that there was no prevailing over them, or persuading her to
+anything. "I don't want to eat!" she cried again and again in answer
+to her aunt's alarmed insistence. "No, I am not coming down! I want
+to be alone! Alone, Aunt Polly--please leave me alone!"
+
+"But, Helen," protested Mrs. Roberts, "won't you please tell me what
+is the matter? What in the world can have happened to you?"
+
+"I can't tell you," the girl cried hysterically. "I want you to go
+and leave me alone!" And she shut the door and locked it, and then
+began pacing wildly up and down the room, heedless of the fact that
+her aunt was still standing out in the hallway; the girl was too
+deeply shaken just then to have any thought about appearances.
+
+She was thinking about Arthur again, and about his fearful plight;
+there rushed back upon her all the memories of their childhood, and
+of the happiness which they had known together. The thought of the
+broken figure which she had seen by the roadside became more fearful
+to her every moment. It was not that it troubled her conscience, for
+Helen could still argue to herself that she had done nothing to
+wrong her friend, that there had been nothing selfish in her
+attitude towards him; she had wished him to be happy. It seemed to
+her that it was simply a result of the cruel perversity of things
+that she had been trampling upon her friend's happiness in order to
+reach her own, and that all her struggling had only served to make
+things worse. The fact that it was not her fault, however, did not
+make the situation seem less tragic and fearful to her; it had come
+to such a crisis now that it drove her almost mad to think about it,
+yet she was completely helpless to know what to do, and as she
+strode up and down the room, she clasped her hands to her aching
+head and cried aloud in her perplexity.
+
+Then too her surging thoughts hurried on to another unhappiness,--to
+her father, and what he would say when he learned the dreadful news.
+How could she explain it to him? And how could she tell him about
+her marriage? At the mere thought of that the other horror seized
+upon her again, and she sank down in a chair by the window and hid
+her face in her hands.
+
+"Oh, how can I have done it?" she gasped to herself. "Oh, it was so
+dreadful! And what am I to do now?"
+
+That last was the chief question, the one to which all others led;
+yet it was one to which she could find no answer. She was completely
+confused and helpless, and she exclaimed aloud again and again, "Oh,
+if I could only find some one to tell me! I do not know how I can
+keep Arthur from behaving in that dreadful way, and I know that I
+cannot ever marry Mr. Harrison!"
+
+The more she tortured herself with these problems, the more agitated
+she became. She sat there at the window, clutching the sill in her
+hands and staring out, seeing nothing, and knowing only that the
+time was flying, and that her anxiety was building itself up and
+becoming an agony which she could not bear.
+
+"Oh, what am I to do?" she groaned again and again; and she passed
+hours asking herself the fearful question; the twilight had closed
+about her, and the moon had risen behind the distant hills.
+
+So oblivious to all things about her was she, that she failed at
+first to notice something else, something which would ordinarily
+have attracted her attention at once,--a sound of music which came
+to her from somewhere near. It was the melody of Grieg's "An den
+Frubling" played upon a violin, and it had stolen into Helen's heart
+and become part of her own stormy emotion before she had even
+thought of what it was or whence it came. The little piece is the
+very soul of the springtime passion, and to the girl it was the very
+utterance of all her yearning, lifting her heart in a great
+throbbing prayer. When it had died away her hands were clenched very
+tightly, and her breath was coming fast.
+
+She remained thus for a minute, forgetful of everything; then at
+last she found herself thinking "it must be Mr. Howard," and waiting
+to see if he would play again. But he did not do so, and Helen sat
+in silence for a long time, her thoughts turned to him. She found
+herself whispering "so he is a wonderful musician after all," and
+noticing that the memory of his wan face frightened her no longer;
+it seemed just then that there could be no one in the world more
+wretched than herself. She was only wishing that he would begin
+again, for that utterance of her grief had seemed like a victory,
+and now in the silence she was sinking back into her despair. The
+more she waited, the more impatient she grew, until suddenly she
+rose from her seat.
+
+"He might play again if I asked him," she said to herself. "He would
+if he knew I was unhappy; I wonder where he can be?"
+
+Helen's window was in the front of the house, opening upon a broad
+lawn whose walks were marked in the moonlight by the high shrubbery
+that lined them. Some distance beyond, down one of the paths, were
+two summer-houses, and it seemed to her that the music had come from
+one of them, probably the far one, for it had sounded very soft. No
+sooner had the thought come to her than she turned and went quietly
+to the door. She ran quickly down the steps, and seeing her aunt and
+Mr. Roberts upon the piazza, she turned and passed out by one of the
+side doors.
+
+Helen had yielded to a sudden impulse in doing thus, drawn by her
+yearning for the music. When she thought about it as she walked on
+it seemed to her a foolish idea, for the man could not possibly know
+of her trouble, and moreover was probably with his friend the
+lieutenant. But she did not stop even then, for her heart's hunger
+still drove her on, and she thought, "I'll see, and perhaps he will
+play again without my asking; I can sit in the near summer-house and
+wait."
+
+She went swiftly on with that purpose in mind, not going upon the
+path, because she would have been in the full moonlight, and in
+sight of the two upon the piazza. She passed silently along by the
+high hedge, concealed in its shadows, and her footsteps deadened by
+the grass. She was as quiet as possible, wishing to be in the
+summer-house without anyone's knowing it.
+
+And she had come very close to it indeed, within a few yards, when
+suddenly she stopped short with an inward exclamation; the silence
+of the twilight had been broken by a voice--one that seemed almost
+beside her, and that startled her with a realization of the mistake
+she had made. The two men were themselves in the house to which she
+had been going.
+
+It was Mr. Howard's voice which she heard; he was speaking very low,
+almost in a whisper, yet Helen was near enough to hear every word
+that he uttered.
+
+"Most people would think it simply a happy and beautiful piece of
+music," he said. "Most people think that of the springtime; but when
+a man has lived as I, he may find that the springtime too is a great
+labor and a great suffering,--he does not forget that for the
+thousands of creatures that win the great fight and come forth
+rejoicing, there are thousands and tens of thousands that go down,
+and have their mite of life crushed out, and find the law very stern
+indeed. Even those that win do it by a fearful effort, and cannot
+keep their beauty long; so that the springtime passion takes on a
+kind of desperate intensity when one thinks of it."
+
+The voice ceased again for a moment, and Helen stood gazing about
+her; the words were not without a dimly-felt meaning to her just
+then, and the tone of the man's voice seemed like the music she had
+heard him play. She would have liked to stay and listen, tho she
+knew that she had no right to. She was certain that she had not been
+seen, because the little house was thickly wrapped about with
+eglantine; and she stood, uncertain as to whether she ought to steal
+back or go out and join the two men. In the meantime the voice began
+again:
+
+"It gives a man a new feeling of the preciousness of life to know
+keenly what it means to fail, to be like a tiny spark, struggling to
+maintain itself in the darkness, and finding that all it can do is
+not sufficient, and that it is sinking back into nothingness
+forever. I think that is the meaning of the wild and startled look
+that the creatures of the forest wear; and it is a very tragic thing
+indeed to realize, and makes one full of mercy. If he knows his own
+heart he can read the same thing in the faces of men, and he no
+longer even laughs at their pride and their greediness, but sees
+them quite infinitely wretched and pitiable. I do not speak merely
+of the poor and hopeless people, the hunted creatures of society;
+for this terror is not merely physical. It is the same imperative of
+life that makes conscience, and so every man knows it who has made
+himself a slave to his body, and sees the soul within him helpless
+and sinking; and every man who has sinned and sees his evil stamped
+upon the face of things outside him, in shapes of terror that must
+be forever. Strange as it may seem, I think the man who lives most
+rightly, the man of genius, knows the feeling most of all, because
+his conscience is the quickest. It is his task to live from his own
+heart, to take the power that is within him and wrestle with it, and
+build new universes from it,--to be a pioneer of the soul, so to
+speak, and to go where no man has ever been before; and yet all his
+victory is nothing to him, because he knows so well what he might
+have done. Every time that he shrinks, as he must shrink, from what
+is so hard and so high in his own vision, he knows that yet another
+glory is lost forever, and so it comes that he stands very near
+indeed to the'tears of things.'"
+
+Mr. Howard stopped again, and Helen found herself leaning forward
+and wondering.
+
+"I know more about those tears than most people," the man went on
+slowly, after a long pause, "for I have had to build my own life in
+that way; I know best of all the failure, for that has been my lot.
+When you and I knew each other, I was very strong in my own heart,
+and I could always find what joy and power I needed for the living
+of my life; but there have come to me since, in the years that I
+have dwelt all alone with my great trial, times when I think that I
+have stood face to face with this thing that we speak of, this naked
+tragedy and terror of existence. There have been times when all the
+yearning and all the prayer that I had could not save me, when I
+have known that I had not an ounce of resource left, and have sat
+and watched the impulse of my soul die within me, and all my
+strength go from me, and seen myself with fearful plainness as a
+spark of yearning, a living thing in all its pitifulness and hunger,
+helpless and walled up in darkness. To feel that is to be very near
+indeed to the losing creatures and their sorrow, and the memory of
+one such time is enough to keep a man merciful forever. For it is
+really the deepest fact about life that a man can know;--how it is
+so hazardous and so precious, how it keeps its head above the great
+ocean of the infinite only by all the force it can exert; it happens
+sometimes that a man does not discover that truth until it is too
+late, and then he finds life very cruel and savage indeed, I can
+tell you."
+
+Mr. Howard stopped, and Helen drew a deep breath; she had been
+trembling slightly as she stood listening; then as he spoke again,
+her heart gave a violent throb. "Some day," he said, "this girl that
+we were talking about will have to come to that part of her life's
+journey; it is a very sad thing to know."
+
+"She will understand her sonata better," said the officer.
+
+"No," was the reply; "I wish I could think even that; I know how
+sorrow affects a person whose heart is true, how it draws him close
+to the great heart of life, and teaches him its sacredness, and
+sends him forth merciful and humble. But selfish misery and selfish
+fear are no less ugly than selfish happiness; a person who suffers
+ignobly becomes only disgusted and disagreeable, and more selfish
+than ever. * * * But let us not talk any more about Miss Davis, for
+it is not a pleasant subject; to a man who seeks as I do to keep his
+heart full of worship the very air of this place is stifling, with
+its idleness and pride. It gives the lie to all my faith about life,
+and I have only to go back into my solitude and forget it as soon as
+I can."
+
+"That ought not to be a difficult thing to do," said the officer.
+
+"It is for me," the other answered; "it haunts my thoughts all the
+time." He paused for a while, and then he added, "I happened to
+think of something I came across this morning, in a collection of
+French verse I was reading; William, did you ever read anything of
+Auguste Brizeux?"
+
+The other answered in the negative.
+
+"He has some qualities that are very rare in French poetry," went on
+Mr. Howard. "He makes one think of Wordsworth. I happened to read a
+homely little ballad of his,--a story of some of that tragedy of
+things that we spoke of; one could name hundreds of such poems quite
+as good, I suppose, but this happened to be the one I came across,
+and I could not help thinking of Miss Davis and wondering if she
+were really so cold and so hard that she could have heard this story
+without shuddering. For it really shook me very much."
+
+"What is it?" the other asked.
+
+"I can tell you the story in a few words," said Mr. Howard. "To me
+it was one of those flashes of beauty that frighten one and haunt
+him long afterwards; and I do not quite like to think about it
+again."
+
+The speaker's voice dropped, and the girl involuntarily crept a
+little nearer to hear him; there was a tree in front of her, and she
+leaned against it, breathing very hard, tho making no sound.
+
+"The ballad is called 'Jacques the Mason,'" said Mr. Howard, "There
+are three little pictures in it; in the first of them you see two
+men setting off to their work together, one of them bidding his wife
+and children good-by, and promising to return with his friend for an
+evening's feast, because the great building is to be finished. Then
+you see them at work, swarming upon the structure and rejoicing in
+their success; and then you hear the shouts of the crowd as the
+scaffolding breaks, and see those two men hanging over the abyss,
+clinging to a little plank. It is not strong enough to hold them
+both, and it is cracking, and that means a fearful death; they try
+to cling to the stones of the building and cannot, and so there
+comes one of those fearful moments that makes a man's heart break to
+think of. Then in the fearful silence you hear one of the men
+whisper that he has three children and a wife; and you see the other
+gaze at him an instant with terror in his eyes, and then let go his
+hold and shoot down to the street below. And that is all of the
+story."
+
+Mr. Howard stopped, and there followed a long silence; afterwards he
+went on, his voice trembling: "That is all," he said, "except of
+course that the man was killed. And I can think of nothing but that
+body hurled down through the air, and the crushed figure and the
+writhing limbs. I fancy the epic grandeur of soul of that poor
+ignorant laborer, and the glory that must have flamed up in his
+heart at that great instant; so I find it a dreadful poem, and
+wonder if it would not frighten that careless girl to read it."
+
+Mr. Howard stopped again, and the officer asked if the story were
+true.
+
+"I do not know that," answered the other, "nor do I care; it is
+enough to know that every day men are called upon to face the
+shuddering reality of existence in some such form as that. And the
+question which it brought to my heart is, if it came to me, as
+terrible as that, and as sudden and implacable, would I show myself
+the man or the dastard? And that filled me with a fearful awe and
+humility, and a guilty wonder whether somewhere in the world there
+might not be a wall from which I should be throwing myself, instead
+of nursing my illness as I do, and being content to read about
+greatness. And oh, I tell you, when I think of such things as that,
+and see the pride and worthlessness of this thing that men call
+'high life,' it seemed to me no longer heedless folly, but dastardly
+and fiendish crime, so that one can only bury his face in his hands
+and sob to know of it. And William, the more I realized it, the more
+unbearable it seemed to me that this glorious girl with all her
+God-given beauty, should be plunging herself into a stream so foul.
+I felt as if it were cowardice of mine that I did not take her by
+the hand and try to make her see what madness she was doing."
+
+"Why do you not?" asked the lieutenant.
+
+"I think I should have, in my more Quixotic days," replied the
+other, sadly; "and perhaps some day I may find myself in a kind of
+high life where royal sincerity is understood. But in this world
+even an idealist has to keep a sense of humor, unless he happens to
+be dowered with an Isaiah's rage."
+
+Mr. Howard paused for a moment and laughed slightly; then, however,
+he went on more earnestly: "Yet, as I think of it, I know that I
+could frighten her; I think that if I should tell her of some of the
+days and nights that I have spent in tossing upon a bed of fire, she
+might find the cup of her selfishness a trifle less pleasant to
+drink. It is something that I have noticed with people, that they
+may be coarse or shallow enough to laugh at virtue and earnestness,
+but there are very few who do not bow their heads before suffering.
+For that is something physical; and they may harden their conscience
+if they please, but from the possibility of bodily pain they know
+that they can never be safe; and they seem to know that a man who
+has walked with that demon has laid his hand upon the grim reality
+of things, before which their shams and vanities shrink into
+nothingness. The sight of it is always a kind of warning of the
+seriousness of life, and so even when people feel no sympathy, they
+cannot but feel fear; I saw for instance, that the first time this
+girl saw me she turned pale, and she would not come anywhere near
+me."
+
+As the speaker paused again, Lieutenant Maynard said, very quietly:
+"I should think that would be a hard cross to bear, David."
+
+"No," said Mr. Howard, with a slight smile, "I had not that thought
+in my mind. I have seen too much of the reality of life to trouble
+myself or the the world with vanity of that very crude kind; I can
+sometimes imagine myself being proud of my serenity, but that is one
+step beyond at any rate. A man who lives in his soul very seldom
+thinks of himself in an external way; when I look in the glass it is
+generally to think how strange it is that this form of mine should
+be that which represents me to men, and I cannot find anything they
+might really learn about me, except the one physical fact of
+suffering."
+
+"They can certainly not fail to learn that," said the other.
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Howard sadly, "I know, if any man does, what it
+is to earn one's life by suffering and labor. That is why I have so
+mastering a sense of life's preciousness, and why I cannot reconcile
+myself to this dreadful fact of wealth. It is the same thing, too,
+that makes me feel so keenly about this girl and her beauty, and
+keeps her in my thoughts. I don't think I could tell you how the
+sight of her affected me, unless you knew how I have lived all these
+lonely years. For I have had no friends and no strength for any of
+the world's work, and all my battle has been with my own soul, to be
+brave and to keep my self-command through all my trials; I think my
+illness has acted as a kind of nervous stimulus upon me, as if it
+were only by laboring to dwell upon the heights of my being night
+and day that I could have strength to stand against despair. The
+result is that I have lived for days in a kind of frenzy of effort,
+with all my faculties at white heat; and it has always been the
+artist's life, it has always been beauty that brought me the joy
+that I needed, and given me the strength to go on. Beauty is the
+sign of victory, and the prize of it, in this heart's battle; the
+more I have suffered and labored, the more keenly I have come to
+feel that, until the commonest flower has a song for me. And
+William, the time I saw this girl she wore a rose in her hair, but
+she was so perfect that I scarcely saw the flower; there is that in
+a man's heart which makes it that to him the fairest and most sacred
+of God's creatures must always be the maiden. When I was young, I
+walked about the earth half drunk with a dream of love; and even
+now, when I am twice as old as my years, and burnt out and dying, I
+could not but start when I saw this girl. For I fancied that she
+must carry about in that maiden's heart of hers some high notion of
+what she meant in the world, and what was due to her. When a man
+gazes upon beauty such as hers, there is a feeling that comes to him
+that is quite unutterable, a feeling born of all the weakness and
+failure and sin of his lifetime. For every true man's life is a
+failure; and this is the vision that he sought with so much pain,
+the thing that might have been, had he kept the faith with his own
+genius. It is so that beauty is the conscience of the artist; and
+that there must always be something painful and terrible about high
+perfection. It was that way that I felt when I saw this girl's face,
+and I dreamt my old dream of the sweetness and glory of a maiden's
+heart. I thought of its spotlessness and of its royal scorn of
+baseness; and I tell you, William, if I had found it thus I could
+have been content to worship and not even ask that the girl look at
+me. For a man, when he has lived as I have lived, can feel towards
+anything more perfect than himself a quite wonderful kind of
+humility; I know that all the trouble with my helpless struggling is
+that I must be everything to myself, and cannot find anything to
+love, and so be at peace. That was the way I felt when I saw this
+Miss Davis, all that agitation and all that yearning; and was it not
+enough to make a man mock at himself, to learn the real truth? I was
+glad that it did not happen to me when I was young and dependent
+upon things about me; is it not easy to imagine how a young man
+might make such a woman the dream of his life, how he might lay all
+his prayer at her feet, and how, when he learned of her fearful
+baseness, it might make of him a mocking libertine for the rest of
+his days?"
+
+"You think it baseness?" asked Lieutenant Maynard.
+
+"I tried to persuade myself at first that it must be only blindness;
+I wondered to myself, 'Can she not see the difference between the
+life of these people about her and the music and poetry her aunt
+tells me she loves?' I never waste any of my worry upon the old and
+hardened of these vulgar and worldly people; it is enough for me to
+know why the women are dull and full of gossip, and to know how much
+depth there is in the pride and in the wisdom of the men. But it was
+very hard for me to give up my dream of the girl's purity; I
+rememher I thought of Heine's 'Thou art as a flower,' and my heart
+was full of prayer. I wondered if it might not be possible to tell
+her that one cannot combine music and a social career, and that one
+cannot really buy happiness with sin; I thought that perhaps she
+might be grateful for the warning that in cutting herself off from
+the great deepening experience of woman she was consigning herself
+to stagnation and wretchedness from which no money could ever
+purchase her ransom; I thought that possibly she did not see that
+this man knew nothing of her preciousness and had no high thoughts
+about her beauty. That was the way I argued with myself about her
+innocence, and you may fancy the kind of laughter that came over me
+at the truth. It is a ghastly thing, William, the utter hardness,
+the grim and determined worldliness, of this girl. For she knew very
+well what she was doing, and all the ignorance was on my part. She
+had no care about anything in the world until that man came in, and
+the short half hour that I watched them was enough to tell her that
+her life's happiness was won. But only think of her, William, with
+all her God-given beauty, allowing herself to be kissed by him! Try
+to fancy what new kind of fiendishness must lie in her heart! I
+remember that she is to marry him because he pays her millions, and
+the word prostitution keeps haunting my memory; when I try to define
+it, I find that the millions do not alter it in the least. That is a
+very cruel thought,--a thought that drives away everything but the
+prayer--and I sit and wonder what fearful punishment the hand of
+Fate will deal out for such a thing as that, what hatefulness it
+will stamp upon her for a sign to men. And then because the perfect
+face still haunts my memory, I have a very Christ-like feeling
+indeed,--that I could truly die to save that girl from such a
+horror."
+
+There was another long silence, and then suddenly, Mr. Howard rose
+from his seat. "William," he said in a different voice, "it is all
+useless, so why should we talk so? The girl has to live her own life
+and learn these things for herself. And in the meantime, perhaps I
+am letting myself be too much moved by her beauty, for there are
+many people in the world who are not beautiful, but who suffer
+things they do not deserve to suffer, and who really deserve our
+sympathy and help."
+
+"I fancy you'd not be much thanked for it in this case," said the
+other, with a dry laugh.
+
+Mr. Howard stood for some moments in silence, and then turned away
+to end the conversation. "I fear," he said, "that I have kept you
+more than I have any right to. Let us go back to the house; it is
+not very polite to our hostess to stay so long."
+
+"It must be nearly time for my train, anyhow," said the officer, and
+a moment later the two had passed out of the summer-house and up the
+path, Lieutenant Maynard carrying Mr. Howard's violin-case in his
+hand.
+
+The two did not see Helen as they passed her; the reason was that
+Helen was stretched out upon the ground by the side of the hedge. It
+was not that she was hiding,--she had no thought of that; it was
+because she had been struck there by the scathing words that she had
+heard. Some of them were so bitter that they could only have filled
+her with rage had she not known that they were true, and had she not
+been awed by what she had learned of this man's heart. She could
+feel only terror and fiery shame, and the cruel words had beaten her
+down, first upon her knees, and then upon her face, and they lashed
+her like whips of flame and tore into her flesh and made her writhe.
+She dared not cry out, or even sob; she could only dig into the
+ground with her quivering fingers, and lie there, shuddering in a
+fearful way. Long after the two men were gone her cruel punishment
+still continued, for she still seemed to hear his words, seared into
+her memory with fire as they had been. What Mr. Howard had said had
+come like a flash of lightning in the darkness to show her actions
+as they really were; the last fearful sentences which she had heard
+had set all her being aflame, and the thought of Mr. Harrison's
+embraces filled her now with a perfect spasm of shame and loathing.
+
+"I sold myself to him for money!" she panted. "Oh, God, for money!"
+
+But then suddenly she raised herself up and stared about her, crying
+out, half-hysterically, "No, no, it is not true! It is not true! I
+could never have done it--I should have gone mad!" And a moment
+later Helen had staggered to her feet. "I must tell him," she
+gasped. "He must not think so of me!"
+
+Mr. Howard had come to her as a vision from a higher world, making
+all that she had known and admired seem hideous and base; and her
+one thought just then was of him. "He will still scorn me," she
+thought, "but I must tell him I really did suffer." And heedless of
+the fact that her hair was loose about her shoulders and her dress
+wet with the dew of the grass, the girl ran swiftly up the lawn
+towards the house, whispering again and again, "I must tell him!"
+
+It was only a minute more before she was near the piazza, and could
+see the people upon it as they stood in the lighted doorway. Mr.
+Howard was one of them, and Helen would have rushed blindly up to
+speak to him, had it not been that another thought came to her to
+stop her.
+
+"Suppose he should know of Arthur!" she muttered, clenching her
+hands until the nails cut her flesh. "Oh, what would he think then?
+And what could I tell him?" And she shrank back into the darkness,
+like a black and guilty thing. She crept around the side of the
+house and entered by another door, stealing into one of the darkened
+parlors, where she flung herself down upon a sofa and lay trembling
+before that new terror. When a few minutes had passed and she heard
+a carriage outside, she sprang up wildly, with the thought that he
+might be going. She had run half way to the door before she
+recollected that the carriage must be for the lieutenant, and then
+she stopped and stood still in the darkness, twisting her hands
+together nervously and asking herself what she could do.
+
+It occurred to her that she could look down the piazza from the
+window of the room, and so she went swiftly to it. The officer was
+just descending to the carriage, Mr. Roberts with him, and her aunt
+and Mr. Howard standing at the top of the steps, the latter's figure
+clearly outlined in the moonlight. Helen's heart was so full of
+despair and yearning just then that she could have rushed out and
+flung herself at his feet, had he been alone; but she felt a new
+kind of shrinking from her aunt. She stood hesitating, therefore,
+muttering to herself, "I must let him know about it somehow, and he
+will tell me what to do. Oh, I MUST! And I must tell him now, before
+it is too late!"
+
+She stood by the window, panting and almost choking with her
+emotion, kneading her hands one upon the other in frenzied
+agitation; and then she heard Mr. Howard say to her aunt, "I shall
+have to ask you to excuse me now, for I must not forget that I am an
+invalid." And Helen clutched her burning temples, seeing him turn to
+enter the house, and seeing that her chance was going. She glanced
+around her, almost desperate, and then suddenly her heart gave a
+great leap, for just beside her was something that had brought one
+resource to her mind. She had seen the piano in the dim light, and
+had thought suddenly of the song that Mr. Howard had mentioned.
+
+"He will remember!" she thought swiftly, as she ran to the
+instrument and sat down before it. With a strength born of her
+desperation she mastered the quivering of her hands, and catching
+her breath, began in a weak and trembling voice the melody of
+Rubenstein:
+
+  "Thou art as a flower,
+    So pure and fair thou art;
+  I gaze on thee, and sorrow
+    Doth steal into my heart.
+
+  "I would lay my hands upon thee,
+    Upon thy snowy brow,
+  And pray that God might keep thee
+    So pure and fair as now."
+
+Helen did not know how she was singing, she thought only of telling
+her yearning and her pain; she was so choked with emotion that she
+could scarcely utter a sound at all, and the song must have startled
+those who heard it. It was laden with all the tears that had been
+gathering in Helen's heart for days.
+
+She did not finish the song; she was thinking, "Will he understand?"
+She stopped suddenly as she saw a shadow upon the porch outside,
+telling her that Mr Howard had come nearer. There was a minute or so
+of breathless suspense and then, as the shadow began to draw slowly
+backwards, Helen clenched her hands convulsively, whispering to
+herself, "He will think it was only an accident! Oh, what can I do?"
+
+There are some people all of whose emotions take the form of music;
+there came into Helen's mind at that instant a melody that was the
+very soul of her agitation and her longing--MacDowell's "To a Water
+Lily;" the girl thought of what Mr. Howard had said about the
+feeling that comes to suffering mortals at the sight of something
+perfect and serene, and she began playing the little piece, very
+softly, and with trembling hands.
+
+It is quite wonderful music; to Helen with her heart full of grief
+and despair, the chords that floated so cold and white and high were
+almost too much to be borne. She played desperately on, however,
+because she saw that Mr. Howard had stopped again, and she did not
+believe that he could fail to understand that music.
+
+So she continued until she came to the pleading song of the swan.
+The music is written to a poem of Geibel's which tells of the
+snow-white lily, and of the bird which wonders at its beauty;
+afterwards, because there is nothing in all nature more cold and
+unapproachable than a water-lily, and because one might sing to it
+all day and never fancy that it heard him, the first melody rises
+again, as keen and as high as ever, and one knows that his yearning
+is in vain, and that there is nothing for him but his old despair.
+When Helen came to that she could go no farther, for her
+wretchedness had been heaping itself up, and her heart was bursting.
+Her fingers gave way as she struck the keys, and she sank down and
+hid her face in her arms, and broke into wild and passionate
+sobbing. She was almost choking with her pent-up emotions, so shaken
+that she was no longer conscious of what went on about her. She did
+not hear Mr. Howard's voice, as he entered, and she did not even
+hear the frightened exclamations of her aunt, until the latter had
+flung her arms about her. Then she sprang up and tore herself loose
+by main force, rushing upstairs and locking herself in her own room,
+where she flung herself down upon the bed and wept until she could
+weep no more, in the meantime not even hearing her aunt's voice from
+the hallway, and altogether unconscious of the flight of time.
+
+When she sat up and brushed away her tangled hair and gazed about
+her, everything in the house was silent. She herself was exhausted,
+but she rose, and after pacing up and down the room a few minutes,
+seated herself at the writing desk, and in spite of her trembling
+fingers, wrote a short note to Mr. Gerald Harrison; then with a deep
+breath of relief, she rose, and going to the window knelt down in
+front of it and gazed out.
+
+The moon was high in the sky by that time, and the landscape about
+her was flooded with its light. Everything was so calm and still
+that the girl held her breath as she watched it; but suddenly she
+gave a start, for she heard the sound of a violin again, so very
+faint that she at first thought she was deluding herself. As she
+listened, however, she heard it more plainly, and then she realized
+in a flash that Mr. Howard must have heard her long-continued
+sobbing, and that he was playing something for her. It was
+Schumann's "Traumerei;" and as the girl knelt there her soul was
+borne away upon the wings of that heavenly melody, and there welled
+up in her heart a new and very different emotion from any that she
+had ever known before; it was born, half of the music, and half of
+the calm and the stillness of the night,--that wonderful peace which
+may come to mortals either in victory or defeat, when they give up
+their weakness and their fear, and become aware of the Infinite
+Presence. When the melody had died away, and Helen rose, there was a
+new light in her eyes, and a new beauty upon her countenance, and
+she knew that her soul was right at last.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+  "Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
+  Our fatal shadows that walk by us still."
+
+Naturally there was considerable agitation in the Roberts family on
+account of Helen's strange behavior; early the next morning Mrs.
+Roberts was at her niece's door, trying to gain admittance. This
+time she did not have to knock but once, and when she entered she
+was surprised to see that Helen was already up and dressing. She had
+been expecting to find the girl more prostrated than ever, and so
+the discovery was a great relief to her; she stood gazing at her
+anxiously.
+
+"Helen, dear," she said, "I scarcely know how to begin to talk to
+you about your extraordinary--"
+
+"I wish," interrupted Helen, "that you would not begin to talk to me
+about it at all."
+
+"But you must explain to me what in the world is the matter,"
+protested the other.
+
+"I cannot possibly explain to you," was the abrupt reply. Helen's
+voice was firm, and there was a determined look upon her face, a
+look which quite took her aunt by surprise.
+
+"But, my dear girl!" she began once more.
+
+"Aunt Polly!" said the other, interrupting her again, "I wish
+instead of talking about it you would listen to what I have to say
+for a few moments. For I have made up my mind just what I am going
+to do, and I am going to take the reins in my own hands and not do
+any arguing or explaining to anyone. And there is no use of asking
+me a word about what has happened, for I could not hope to make you
+understand me, and I do not mean to try."
+
+As Helen uttered those words she fixed her eyes upon her aunt with
+an unflinching gaze, with the result that Mrs. Roberts was quite too
+much taken aback to find a word to say.
+
+Without waiting for anything more Helen turned to the table. "Here
+is a letter," she said, "which I have written to Mr. Harrison; you
+know his address in New York, I suppose?"
+
+"His address?" stammered the other; "why,--yes, of course. But what
+in the world--"
+
+"I wish this letter delivered to him at once, Aunt Polly," Helen
+continued. "It is of the utmost importance, and I want you to do me
+the favor to send someone into the city with it by the next train."
+
+"But, Helen, dear--"
+
+"Now please do not ask me anything about it," went on the girl,
+impatiently. "I have told you that you must let me manage this
+affair myself. If you will not send it I shall simply have to get
+someone to take it. He must have it, and have it at once."
+
+"Will it not do to mail it, Helen?"
+
+"No, because I wish him to get it this morning." And Helen put the
+letter into her aunt's hands, while the latter gazed helplessly,
+first at it, and then at the girl. There is an essay of Bacon's in
+which is set forth the truth that you can bewilder and master anyone
+if you are only sufficiently bold and rapid; Mrs. Roberts was so
+used to managing everything and being looked up to by everyone that
+Helen's present mood left her quite dazed.
+
+Nor did the girl give her any time to recover her presence of mind.
+"There is only one thing more," she said, "I want you to have
+breakfast as soon as you can, and then to let me have a carriage at
+once."
+
+"A carriage?" echoed the other.
+
+"Yes, Aunt Polly, I wish to drive over to Hilltown immediately."
+
+"To Hilltown!" gasped Aunt Polly with yet greater consternation, and
+showing signs of resistance at last; "pray what--"
+
+But Helen only came again to the attack, with yet more audacity and
+confidence. "Yes," she said, "to Hilltown; I mean to go to see
+Arthur."
+
+For answer to that last statement, poor Mrs. Roberts had simply no
+words whatever; she could only gaze, and in the meantime, Helen was
+going calmly on with her dressing, as if the matter were settled.
+
+"Will Mr. Howard be down to breakfast?" she asked.
+
+"As he is going away to-day, I presume he will be down," was the
+reply, after which Helen quickly completed her toilet, her aunt
+standing by and watching her in the meantime.
+
+"Helen, dear," she asked at last, after having recovered her
+faculties a trifle, "do you really mean that you will not explain to
+me a thing of what has happened, or of what you are doing?"
+
+"There is so much, Aunt Polly, that I cannot possibly explain it
+now; I have too much else to think of. You must simply let me go my
+way, and I will tell you afterwards."
+
+"But, Helen, is that the right way to treat me? Is it nothing to
+you, all the interest that I have taken in this and all that I have
+done for you, that you should think so little of my advice?"
+
+"I do not need any advice now," was the answer. "Aunt Polly, I see
+exactly what I should do, and I do not mean to stop a minute for
+anything else until I have done it. If it seems unkind, I am very
+sorry, but in the meantime it must be done."
+
+And while she was saying the words, Helen was putting on her hat;
+then taking up her parasol and gloves she turned towards her aunt.
+"I am ready now," she said, "and please let me have breakfast just
+as soon as you can."
+
+The girl was so much preoccupied with her own thoughts and purposes
+that she scarcely even heard what her aunt said; she went down into
+the garden where she could be alone, and paced up and down
+impatiently until she heard the bell. Then she went up into the
+dining room, where she found her aunt and uncle in conversation with
+Mr. Howard.
+
+Helen had long been preparing herself to meet him, but she could not
+keep her cheeks from flushing or keep from lowering her eyes; she
+bit her lips together, however, and forced herself to look at him,
+saying very resolutely, "Mr. Howard, I have to drive over to
+Hilltown after breakfast, and I wish very much to talk to you about
+something; would you like to drive with me?"
+
+"Very much indeed," said he, quietly, after which Helen said not a
+word more. She saw that her aunt and uncle were gazing at her and at
+each other in silent wonder, but she paid no attention to it. After
+eating a few hurried mouthfuls she excused herself, and rose and
+went outside, where she saw the driving-cart which had been bought
+for her use, waiting for her. It was not much longer before Mr.
+Howard was ready, for he saw her agitation.
+
+"It is rather a strange hour to start upon a drive," she said to
+him, "but I have real cause for hurrying; I will explain about it."
+And then she stopped, as her aunt came out to join them.
+
+It was only a moment more before Mr. Howard had excused himself, and
+the two were in the wagon, Helen taking the reins. She waved a
+farewell to her aunt and then started the horse, and they were
+whirled swiftly away down the road.
+
+All the morning Helen's mind had been filled with things that she
+wished to say to Mr. Howard. But now all her resolution seemed to
+have left her, and she was trembling very much, and staring straight
+ahead, busying herself with guiding the horse. When they were out
+upon the main road where they might go as fast as they pleased
+without that necessity, she swallowed the lump in her throat and
+made one or two nervous attempts to speak.
+
+Mr. Howard in the meantime had been gazing in front of him
+thoughtfully. "Miss Davis," he said suddenly, turning his eyes upon
+her, "may I ask you a question?"
+
+"Yes," said Helen faintly.
+
+"You heard all that I said about you last night?"
+
+And Helen turned very red and looked away. "Yes, I heard it all,"
+she said; and then there was a long silence.
+
+It was broken by the man, who began in a low voice: "I scarcely know
+how, Miss Davis, I can apologize to you--"
+
+And then he stopped short, for the girl had turned her glance upon
+him, wonderingly. "Apologize?" she said; she had never once thought
+of that view of it, and the word took her by surprise.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Howard; "I said so many hard and cruel things that I
+cannot bear to think of them."
+
+Helen still kept her eyes fixed upon him, as she said, "Did you say
+anything that was not true, Mr. Howard?"
+
+The man hesitated a moment, and then he answered: "I said many
+things that I had no right to say to you."
+
+"That is not it," said Helen simply. "Did you say anything that was
+not true?"
+
+Again Mr. Howard paused. "I am quite sure that I did," he said at
+last. "Most of what I said I feel to have been untrue since I have
+seen how it affected you."
+
+"Because it made me so ashamed?" said Helen. And then some of the
+thoughts that possessed her forced their way out, and she hurried on
+impetuously: "That was the first thing I wanted to tell you. It is
+really true that you were wrong, for I am not hard-hearted at all.
+It was something that my--that people were making me do, and all the
+time I was wretched. It was dreadful, I know, but I was tempted,
+because I do love beautiful things. And it was all so sudden, and I
+could not realize it, and I had nobody to advise me, for none of the
+people I meet would think it was wrong. You must talk to me and help
+me, because I've got to be very strong; my aunt will be angry, and
+when I get back perhaps Mr. Harrison will be there, and I shall have
+to tell him."
+
+Then the girl stopped, out of breath and trembling with excitement;
+Mr. Howard turned abruptly and fixed his dark eyes upon her.
+
+"Tell him," he said. "Tell him what?"
+
+"That I shall not marry him, of course," answered Helen; the other
+gave a start, but she was so eager that she did not even notice it.
+"I could not lose a minute," she said. "For it was so very dreadful,
+you know."
+
+"And you really mean not to marry him?" asked the other.
+
+"Mean it!" echoed the girl, opening her eyes very wide. "Why, how in
+the world could you suppose--" And then she stopped short, and
+laughed nervously. "Of course," she said, "I forgot; you might
+suppose anything. But, oh, if I could tell you how I have suffered,
+Mr. Howard, you would understand that I could never have such a
+thought again in the world. Please do understand me, for if I had
+really been so base I should not come to you as I do after what I
+heard. I cannot tell you how dreadfully I suffered while I was
+listening, but after I had cried so much about it, I felt better,
+and it seemed to me that it was the best thing that could have
+happened to me, just to see my actions as they seemed to someone
+else,--to someone who was good. I saw all at once the truth of what
+I was doing, and it was agony to me to know that you thought so of
+me. That was why I could not rest last night until I had told you
+that I was really unhappy; for it was something that I was unhappy,
+wasn't it, Mr. Howard?"
+
+"Yes," said the other, "it was very much indeed."
+
+"And oh, I want you to know the truth," Helen went on swiftly.
+"Perhaps it is just egotism on my part, and I have really no right
+to tell you all about myself in this way; and perhaps you will scorn
+me when you come to know the whole truth. But I cannot help telling
+you about it, so that you may advise me what to do; I was all
+helpless and lost, and what you said came last night like a
+wonderful light. And I don't care what you think about me if you
+will only tell me the real truth, in just the same way that you did;
+for I realized afterwards that it was that which had helped me so.
+It was the first time in my life that it had ever happened to me;
+when you meet people in the world, they only say things that they
+know will please you, and that does you no good. I never realized
+before how a person might go through the world and really never meet
+with another heart in all his life; and that one can be fearfully
+lonely, even in a parlor full of people. Did you ever think of that,
+Mr. Howard?"
+
+Mr. Howard had fixed his keen eyes upon the girl as she went
+breathlessly on; she was very pale, and the sorrow through which she
+had passed had left, "I have been so cold and wicked, that
+you will soon scorn me altogether."
+
+"I do not think that is possible," said her companion, gently, as he
+saw the girl choking back a sob.
+
+"Well, listen then," Helen began; but then she stopped again. "Do
+you wish me to tell you?" she asked. "Do you care anything about it
+at all, or does it seem--"
+
+"I care very much about it, indeed," the other answered.
+
+"However dreadful it may seem," said Helen. "Oh, please know that
+while I have been doing it, it has made me utterly wretched, and
+that I am so frightened now that I can scarcely talk to you; and
+that if there is anything that I can do--oh, absolutely anything--I
+will do it!" Then the girl bit her lips together and went on with
+desperate haste, "It's what you said about what would happen if
+there were someone else to love me, and to see how very bad I was!"
+
+"There is some such person?" asked the man, in a low voice.
+
+"Yes," said she. "It is someone I have known as long as I can
+remember. And he loves me very much indeed, I think; and while I was
+letting myself be tempted in this way he was very sick, and because
+I knew I was so bad I did not dare go near him; and yesterday when
+he heard I was going to marry this man, it almost killed him, and I
+do not know what to fear now."
+
+Then, punishing herself very bravely and swallowing all her bitter
+shame, Helen went on to tell Mr. Howard of Arthur, and of her
+friendship with him, and of how long he had waited for her; she
+narrated in a few words how he had left her, and then how she had
+seen him upon the road. Afterwards she stopped and sat very still,
+trembling, and with her eyes lowered, quite forgetting that she was
+driving.
+
+"Miss Davis," said the other, gently, seeing how she was suffering,
+"if you wish my advice about this, I should not worry myself too
+much; it is better, I find in my own soul's life, to save most of
+the time that one spends upon remorse, and devote it to action."
+
+"To action?" asked Helen.
+
+"Yes," said the other. "You have been very thoughtless, but you may
+hope that nothing irrevocable has happened; and when you have seen
+your friend and told him the truth just as you have told it to me, I
+fancy it will bring him joy enough to compensate him for what he has
+suffered."
+
+"That was what I meant to do," the girl went on. "But I have been
+terrified by all sorts of fancies, and when I remember how much pain
+I caused him, I scarcely dare think of speaking to him. When I saw
+him by the roadside, Mr. Howard, he seemed to me to look exactly
+like you, there was such dreadful suffering written in his face."
+
+"A man who lives as you have told me your friend has lived," said
+the other, "has usually a very great power of suffering; such a man
+builds for himself an ideal which gives him all his joy and his
+power, and makes his life a very glorious thing; but when anything
+happens to destroy his vision or to keep him from seeking it, he
+suffers with the same intensity that he rejoiced before. The great
+hunger that was once the source of his power only tears him to
+pieces then, as steam wrecks a broken engine."
+
+"It's very dreadful," Helen said, "how thoughtless I was all along.
+I only knew that he loved me very much, and that it was a vexation
+to me."
+
+Mr. Howard glanced at her. "You do not love him?" he asked.
+
+"No," said Helen, quickly. "If I had loved him, I could never have
+had a thought of all these other things. But I had no wish to love
+anybody; it was more of my selfishness."
+
+"Perhaps not," the other replied gently. "Some day you may come to
+love him, Miss Davis."
+
+"I do not know," Helen said. "Arthur was very impatient."
+
+"When a man is swift and eager in all his life," said Mr. Howard,
+smiling, "he cannot well be otherwise in his love. Such devotion
+ought to be very precious to a woman, for such hearts are not easy
+to find in the world."
+
+Helen had turned and was gazing anxiously at Mr. Howard as he spoke
+to her thus. "You really think," she said, "that I should learn to
+appreciate Arthur's love?"
+
+"I cannot know much about him from the little you have told me," was
+the other's answer. "But it seems to me that it is there you might
+find the best chance to become the unselfish woman that you wish to
+be."
+
+"It is very strange," the girl responded, wonderingly, "how
+differently you think about it. I should have supposed I was acting
+very unwisely indeed if I loved Arthur; everyone would have told me
+of his poverty and obscurity, and of how I must give up my social
+career."
+
+"I think differently, perhaps," Mr. Howard said, "because I have
+lived so much alone. I have come to know that happiness is a thing
+of one's own heart, and not of externals; the questions I should ask
+about a marriage would not be of wealth and position. If you really
+wish to seek the precious things of the soul, I should think you
+would be very glad to prove it by some sacrifice; and I know that
+two hearts are brought closer, and all the memories of life made
+dearer, by some such trial in the early days. People sneer at love
+in a cottage, but I am sure that love that could wish to live
+anywhere else is not love. And as to the social career, a person who
+has once come to know the life of the heart soon ceases to care for
+any kind of life that is heartless; a social career is certainly
+that, and in comparison very vulgar indeed."
+
+Helen looked a little puzzled, and repeated the word "vulgar"
+inquiringly. Mr Howard smiled.
+
+"That is the word I always use when I am talking about high life,"
+he said, laughing. "You may hurl the words 'selfish' and 'worldly'
+at it all you please, and never reach a vital spot; but the word
+'vulgar' goes straight to the heart."
+
+"You must explain to me why it is that," said Helen, with so much
+seriousness that the other could not help smiling again.
+
+"Perhaps I cannot make anyone else see the thing as I do," was his
+reply. "And yet it seems rery simple. When a man lives a while in
+his own soul, he becomes aware of the existence of a certain
+spiritual fact which gives life all its dignity and meaning; he
+learns that this sacred thing demands to be sought for, and
+worshiped; and that the man who honors it and seeks it is only
+hailed as gentleman, and aristocrat, and that he who does not honor
+it and seek it is vulgar, tho he be heir of a hundred earls, and
+leader of all society, and lord of millions. Every day that one
+lives in this presence that I speak of, he discovers a little more
+how sacred a thing is true nobility, and how impertinent is the
+standard that values men for the wealth they win, or for the ribbons
+they wear, or for anything else in the world. I fancy that you, if
+you came once to love your friend, would find it very easy to do
+without the admiration of those who go to make up society; they
+would come to seem to you very trivial and empty people, and
+afterwards, perhaps, even very cruel and base."
+
+Mr. Howard stopped; but then seeing that Helen was gazing at him
+inquiringly once more he added, gravely, "One could be well content
+to let vain people strut their little hour and be as wonderful as
+they chose, if it were not for the painful fact that they are eating
+the bread of honest men, and that millions are toiling and starving
+in order that they may have ease and luxury. That is such a very
+dreadful thing to know that sometimes one can think of nothing else,
+and it drives him quite mad."
+
+The girl sat very still after that, trembling a little in her heart;
+finally she asked, her voice shaking slightly, "Mr. Howard, what can
+one do about such things?"
+
+"Very little," was the reply, "for they must always be; but at least
+one can keep his own life earnest and true. A woman who felt such
+things very keenly might be an inspiration to a man who was called
+upon to battle with selfishness and evil."
+
+"You are thinking of Arthur once more?" asked the girl.
+
+"Yes," answered the other, with a slight smile. "It would be a happy
+memory for me, to know that I have been able to give you such an
+ideal. Some of these days, you see, I am hoping that we shall again
+have a poet with a conviction and a voice, so that men may know that
+sympathy and love are things as real as money. I am quite sure there
+never was a nation so ridiculously sodden as our own just at
+present; all of our maxims and ways of life are as if we were the
+queer little Niebelung creatures that dig for treasure in the bowels
+of the earth, and see no farther than the ends of their shovels; we
+live in the City of God, and spend all our time scraping the gold of
+the pavements. Your uncle told me this morning that he did not see
+why a boy should go to college when he can get a higher salary if he
+spends the four years in business. I find that there is nothing to
+do but to run away and live alone, if one wants really to believe
+that man is a spiritual nature, with an infinite possibility of
+wonder and love; and that the one business of his life is to develop
+that nature by contact with things about him; and that every act of
+narrow selfishness he commits is a veil which he ties about his own
+eyes, and that when he has tied enough of them, not all the pearl
+and gold of the gorgeous East can make him less a pitiable wretch."
+
+Mr. Howard stopped again, and smiled slightly; Helen sat gazing
+thoughtfully ahead, thinking about his way of looking at life, and
+how very strange her own actions seemed in the light of it.
+Suddenly, however, because throughout all the conversation there had
+been another thought in her consciousness, she glanced ahead and
+urged the horse even faster. She saw far in the distance the houses
+of the place to which she was bound, and she said nothing more, her
+companion also becoming silent as he perceived her agitation.
+
+Helen had been constantly growing more anxious, so that now the
+carriage could not travel fast enough; it seemed to her that
+everything depended upon what she might find at Hilltown. It was
+only the thought of Arthur that kept her from feeling completely
+free from her wretchedness; she felt that she might remedy all the
+wrong that she had done, and win once more the prize of a good
+conscience, provided only that nothing irretrievable had happened to
+him. Now as she came nearer she found herself imagining more and
+more what might have happened, and becoming more and more impatient.
+There was a balance dangling before her eyes, with utter happiness
+on one side and utter misery on the other; the issue depended upon
+what she discovered at Hilltown.
+
+The two sat in silence, both thinking of the same thing, as they
+whirled past the place where Helen had seen Arthur before. The girl
+trembled as she glanced at it, for all of the previous day's
+suffering rose before her again, and made her fears still more real
+and importunate. She forced herself to look, however, half thinking
+that she might see Arthur again; but that did not happen, and in a
+minute or two more the carriage had come to the house where he
+lived. She gave the reins to Mr. Howard, and sprang quickly out; she
+rang the bell, and then stood for a minute, twitching her fingers,
+and waiting.
+
+The woman who kept the house, and whom Helen knew personally, opened
+the door; the visitor stepped in and gasped out breathlessly, "Where
+is Arthur?" Her hands shook visibly as she waited for the reply.
+
+"He is not in, Miss Davis," the woman answered.
+
+"Where is he?" Helen cried.
+
+"I do not know," was the response. "He has gone."
+
+"Gone!" And the girl started back, catching at her heart. "Gone
+where?"
+
+"I do not know, Miss Davis."
+
+"But what--" began the other.
+
+"This will tell you all I know," said the woman, as she fumbled in
+her apron, and put a scrap of crumpled paper into Helen's trembling
+hands.
+
+The girl seized it and glanced at it; then she staggered back
+against the wall, ghastly pale and almost sinking. The note, in
+Arthur's hand, but so unsteady as to be almost illegible, ran thus:
+"You will find in this my board for the past week; I am compelled to
+leave Hilltown, and I shall not ever return."
+
+And that was all. Helen stared at it and stared again, and then let
+it fall and gazed about her, echoing, in a hollow voice, "And I
+shall not ever return!"
+
+"That is all I can tell you about it," went on the woman. "I have
+not seen him since Elizabeth was here yesterday morning; he came
+back late last night and packed his bag and went away."
+
+Helen sank down upon a chair and buried her face in her hands, quite
+overwhelmed by the suddenness of that discovery. She remained thus
+for a long time, without either sound or motion, and the woman stood
+watching her, knowing full well what was the matter. When Helen
+looked up again there was agony written upon her countenance. "Oh,
+are you sure you have no idea where I can find him?" she moaned.
+
+"No, Miss Davis," said the woman. "I was asounded when I got this
+note."
+
+"But someone must know, oh, surely they must! Someone must have seen
+him,--or he must have told someone!"
+
+"I think it likely that he took care not to," was the reply.
+
+The thought was a death-knell to Helen's last hope, and she sank
+down, quite overcome; she knew that Arthur could have had but one
+motive in acting as he had,--that he meant to cut himself off
+entirely from all his old life and surroundings. He had no friends
+in Hilltown, and having lived all alone, it would be possible for
+him to do it. Helen remembered Mr. Howard's saying of the night
+before, how the sight of her baseness might wreck a man's life
+forever, and the more she thought of that, the more it made her
+tremble. It seemed almost more than she could bear to see this
+fearful consequence of her sin, and to know that it had become a
+fact of the outer world, and gone beyond her power. It seemed quite
+too cruel that she should have such a thing on her conscience, and
+have it there forever; most maddening of all was the thought that it
+had depended upon a few hours of time.
+
+"Oh, how can I have waited!" she moaned. "I should have come last
+night, I should have stopped the carriage when I saw him! Oh, it is
+not possible!"
+
+Perhaps there are no more tragic words in human speech than "Too
+late." Helen felt just then as if the right even to repentance were
+taken from her life. It was her first introduction to that fearful
+thing of which Mr. Howard had told her upon their first meeting; in
+the deep loneliness of her own heart Helen was face to face just
+then with FATE. She shrank back in terror, and she struggled
+frantically, but she felt its grip of steel about her wrist; and
+while she sat there with her face hidden, she was learning to gaze
+into its eyes, and front their fiery terror. When she looked up
+again her face was very white and pitiful to see, and she rose from
+her chair and went toward the door so unsteadily that the woman put
+her arm about her.
+
+"You will tell me," she gasped faintly--"you will tell me if you
+hear anything?"
+
+"Yes," said the other gently, "I will."
+
+So Helen crept into the carriage again, looking so full of
+wretchedness that her companion knew that the worst must have
+happened, and took the reins and silently drove towards home, while
+the girl sat perfectly still. They were fully half way home before
+she could find a word in which to tell him of her misery. "I shall
+never be happy in my life again!" she whispered. "Oh, Mr. Howard,
+never in my life!"
+
+When the man gazed at her, he was frightened to see how grief and
+fear had taken possession of her face; and yet there was no word
+that he could say to soothe her, and no hope that he could give her.
+When the drive was ended, she stole silently up to her room, to be
+alone with her misery once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+  "Thou majestic in thy sadness."
+
+Upon the present occasion there was no violent demonstration of
+emotion to alarm the Roberts household, for Helen's grief was not of
+the kind to vent itself in a passionate outburst and pass away. To
+be sure, she wept a little, but the thoughts which haunted her were
+not of a kind to be forgotten, and afterwards she was as wretched as
+ever. What she had done seemed to her so dreadful that even tears
+were not right, and she felt that she ought only to sit still and
+think of it, and be frightened; it seemed to her just then as if she
+would have to do the same thing for the rest of her days. She spent
+several hours in her room without once moving, and without being
+disturbed, for her aunt was sufficiently annoyed at her morning's
+reception not to visit her again. The lunch hour passed, therefore,
+unthought of by Helen, and it was an hour or two later before she
+heard her aunt's step in the hall, and her knock upon the door.
+
+Mrs. Roberts entered and stood in the center of the room, gazing at
+Helen, and at the look of helpless despair which she turned towards
+her; the woman's own lips were set very tightly.
+
+"Well?" she said abruptly, "have you had your wish, and are you
+happy?"
+
+Helen did not answer, nor did she half realize the question, so lost
+was she in her own misery. She sat gazing at her aunt, while the
+latter went on: "You have had your way in one thing, at any rate,
+Helen; Mr. Harrison is downstairs to see you."
+
+The girl gave a slight start, but then she answered quietly: "Thank
+you, Auntie; I shall go down and see him."
+
+"Helen," said Mrs. Roberts, "do you still refuse to tell me anything
+of what I ask you?"
+
+Helen was quite too much humbled to wish to oppose anyone just then;
+and she answered mournfully, "What is it that you wish?"
+
+"I wish to know in the first place why you wanted to see Mr.
+Harrison."
+
+"I wanted to see him to tell him that I could not marry him, Aunt
+Polly."
+
+And Mrs. Roberts sat down opposite Helen and fixed her gaze upon
+her. "I knew that was it," she said grimly. "Now, Helen, what in the
+world has come over you to make you behave in this fashion?"
+
+"Oh, it is so much to tell you," began the girl; "I don't know--"
+
+"What did you find at Hilltown?" went on her aunt persistently. "Did
+you see Arthur?"
+
+"No, Aunt Polly, that is what is the matter; he has gone."
+
+"Gone! Gone where?"
+
+"Away, Aunt Polly! Nobody saw him go, and he left a note saying that
+he would never return. And I am so frightened--"
+
+Mrs. Roberts was gazing at her niece with a puzzled look upon her
+face. She interrupted her by echoing the word "frightened"
+inquiringly.
+
+"Yes, Auntie!" cried the girl; "for I may never be able to find him
+again, to undo what I have done!"
+
+And Mrs. Roberts responded with a wondering laugh, and observed,
+"For my part, I should think you'd be very glad to be rid of him
+so."
+
+She saw Helen give a start, but she could not read the girl's mind,
+and did not know how much she had done to estrange her by those
+words. It was as if Helen's whole soul had shrunk back in horror,
+and she sat staring at her aunt with open eyes.
+
+"I suppose you think," the other went on grimly, "that I am going to
+share all this wonderful sentimentality with you about that boy; but
+I assure you that you don't know me! He may get you to weep over him
+because he chooses to behave like a fool, but not me."
+
+Helen was still for a moment, and then she said, in an awe-stricken
+voice: "Aunt Polly, I have wrecked Arthur's life!" Mrs. Roberts
+responded with a loud guffaw, which was to the other so offensive
+that it was like a blow in the face.
+
+"Wrecked his life!" the woman cried scornfully. "Helen, you talk
+like a baby! Can't you know in the first place that Arthur is doing
+all this high-tragedy acting for nothing in the world but to
+frighten you? Wrecked his life! And there you were, I suppose, all
+ready to get down on your knees to him, and beg his pardon for
+daring to be engaged, and to promise to come to his attic and live
+off bread and water, if he would only be good and not run away!"
+
+Mrs. Roberts' voice was bitter and mocking, and her words seemed to
+Helen almost blasphemy; it had never occurred to her that such grief
+as hers would not be sacred to anyone. Yet there was no thought of
+anger in her mind just then, for she had been chastened in a fiery
+furnace, and was too full of penitence and humility for even that
+much egotism. She only bowed her head, and said, in a trembling
+voice: "Oh, Aunt Polly, I would stay in an attic and live off bread
+and water for the rest of my days, if I could only clear my
+conscience of the dreadful thing I have done."
+
+"A beautiful sentiment indeed!" said Mrs. Roberts, with a sniff of
+disgust; and she stood surveying her niece in silence for a minute
+or two. Then smothering her feelings a little, she asked her in a
+quieter voice, "And so, Helen, you are really going to fling aside
+the life opportunity that is yours for such nonsense as this? There
+is no other reason?"
+
+"There is another reason, Aunt Polly," said Helen; "it is so
+dreadful of you to ask me in that way. How CAN you have expected me
+to marry a man just because he was rich?"
+
+"Oh," said the other, "so that is it! And pray what put the idea
+into your head so suddenly?" She paused a moment, and then, as the
+girl did not raise her head, she went on, sarcastically, "I fancy I
+know pretty well where you got all of these wonderful new ideas; you
+have not been talking with Mr. Howard for nothing, I see."
+
+"No, not for nothing," said Helen gently.
+
+"A nice state of affairs!" continued the other angrily; "I knew
+pretty well that his head was full of nonsense, but when I asked him
+here I thought at least that he would know enough about good manners
+to mind his own affairs. So he has been talking to you, has he? And
+now you cannot possibly marry a rich man!"
+
+Mrs. Roberts stopped, quite too angry to find any more words; but as
+she sat for a minute or two, gazing at Helen, it must have occurred
+to her that she would not accomplish anything in that way. She made
+an effort to swallow her emotions.
+
+"Helen, dear," she said, sitting down near her niece, "why will you
+worry me in this dreadful way, and make me speak so crossly to you?
+I cannot tell you, Helen, what a torment it is to me to see you
+throwing yourself away in this fashion; I implore you to stop and
+think before you take this step, for as sure as you are alive you
+will regret it all your days. Just think of it how you will feel,
+and how I will feel, when you look back at the happiness you might
+have had, and know that it is too late! And, Helen, it is due to
+nothing in the world but to your inexperience that you have let
+yourself be carried away by these sublimities. You MUST know, child,
+and you can see if you choose, that they have nothing to do with
+life; they will not butter your bread, Helen, or pay your coachman,
+and when you get over all this excitement, you will find that what I
+tell you is true. Look about you in the world, and where can you
+find anybody who lives according to such ideas?"
+
+"What ideas do you mean, Aunt Polly?" asked Helen, with a puzzled
+look.
+
+"Oh, don't you suppose," answered the other, "that I know perfectly
+well what kind of stuff it is that Mr. Howard has talked to you? I
+used to hear all that kind of thing when I was young, and I believed
+some of it, too,--about how beautiful it was to marry for love, and
+to have a fine scorn of wealth and all the rest of it; but it wasn't
+very long before I found out that such opinions were of no use in
+the world."
+
+"Then you don't believe in love, Aunt Polly?" asked Helen, fixing
+her eyes on the other.
+
+"What's the use of asking such an absurd question?" was the answer.
+"Of course I believe in love; I wanted you to love Mr. Harrison, and
+you might have, if you had chosen. I learned to love Mr. Roberts;
+naturally, a couple have to love each other, or how would they ever
+live happily together? But what has that to do with this ridiculous
+talk of Mr. Howard's? As if two people had nothing else to do in the
+world but to love each other! It's all very well, Helen, for a man
+who chooses to live like Robinson Crusoe to talk such nonsense, but
+he ought not to put it in the mind of a sentimental girl. He would
+very soon find, if he came out into life, that the world isn't run
+by love, and that people need a good many other things to keep them
+happy in it. You ought to have sense enough to see that you've got
+to live a different sort of a life, and that Mr. Howard knows
+nothing in the world about your needs. I don't go alone and live in
+visions, and make myself imaginary lives, Helen; I look at the world
+as it is. You will have to learn some day that the real way to find
+happiness is to take things as you find them, and get the best out
+of life you can. I never had one-tenth of your advantages, and yet
+there aren't many people in the world better off than I am; and you
+could be just as happy, if you would only take my advice about it.
+What I am talking to you is common sense, Helen, and anybody that
+you choose to ask will tell you the same thing."
+
+So Mrs. Roberts went on, quite fairly under way in her usual course
+of argument, and rousing all her faculties for this last struggle.
+She was as convinced as ever of the completeness of her own views,
+and of the effect which they must have upon Helen; perhaps it was
+not her fault that she did not know to what another person she was
+talking.
+
+In truth, it would not be easy to tell how great a difference there
+was in the effect of those old arguments upon Helen; while she had
+been sitting in her room alone and suffering so very keenly, the
+girl had been, though she did not know it, very near indeed to the
+sacred truths of life, and now as she listened to her aunt, she was
+simply holding her breath. The climax came suddenly, for as the
+other stopped, Helen leaned forward in her chair, and gazing deep
+into her eyes asked her, "Aunt Polly, can it really be that you do
+not know that what you have been saying to me is dreadfully
+_wicked_?"
+
+There was perhaps nothing that the girl could have done to take her
+complacent relative more by surprise; Mrs. Roberts sat for a moment,
+echoing the last word, and staring as if not quite able to realize
+what Helen meant. As the truth came to her she turned quite pale.
+
+"It seems to me," she said with a sneer, "that I remember a time
+when it didn't seem quite so wicked to you. If I am not mistaken you
+were quite glad to do all that I told you, and to get as much as
+ever you could."
+
+Helen was quite used to that taunt in her own heart, and to the pain
+that it brought her, so she only lowered her eyes and said nothing.
+In the meantime Mrs. Roberts was going on in her sarcastic tone:
+
+"Wicked indeed!" she ejaculated, "and I suppose all that I have been
+doing for you was wicked too! I suppose it was wicked of me to watch
+over your education all these years as I have, and to plan your
+future as if you were my own child, so that you might amount to
+something in the world; and it was wicked of me to take all the
+trouble that I have for your happiness, and wicked of Mr. Roberts to
+go to all the trouble about the trousseau that he has! The only
+right and virtuous thing about it all is the conduct of our niece
+who causes us to do it all, and who promises herself to a man and
+lets him go to all the trouble that he has, and then gets her head
+full of sanctimonious notions and begins to preach about wickedness
+to her elders!"
+
+Helen had nothing to reply to those bitter words, for it was only
+too easy just then to make her accuse herself of anything. She sat
+meekly suffering, and thinking that the other was quite justified in
+all her anger. Mrs. Roberts was, of course, quite incapable of
+appreciating her mood, and continued to pour out her sarcasm, and to
+grow more and more bitter. To tell the truth, the worthy matron had
+not been half so unselfish in her hopes about Helen as she liked to
+pretend, and she showed then that like most people of the world who
+are perfectly good-natured on the surface, she could display no
+little ugliness when thwarted in her ambitions and offended in her
+pride.
+
+It was not possible, however, for her to find a word that could seem
+to Helen unjust, so much was the girl already humbled. It was only
+after her aunt had ceased to direct her taunts at her, and turned
+her spite upon Mr. Howard and his superior ideas, that it seemed to
+Helen that it was not helping her to hear any more; then she rose
+and said, very gently, "Aunt Polly, I am sorry that you feel so
+about me, and I wish that I could explain to you better what I am
+doing. I know that what I did at first was all wrong, but that is no
+reason why I should leave it wrong forever. I think now that I ought
+to go and talk to Mr. Harrison, who is waiting for me, and after
+that I want you to please send me home, because father will be there
+to-day, and I want to tell him about how dreadfully I have treated
+Arthur, and beg him to forgive me."
+
+Then, without waiting for any reply, the girl left the room and went
+slowly down the steps. The sorrow that possessed her lay so deep
+upon her heart that everything else seemed trivial in comparison,
+and she had put aside and forgotten the whole scene with her aunt
+before she had reached the parlor where Mr. Harrison was waiting;
+she did not stop to compose herself or to think what to say, but
+went quickly into the room.
+
+Mr. Harrison, who was standing by the window, turned when he heard
+her; she answered his greeting kindly, and then sat down and
+remained very still for a moment or two, gazing at her hands in her
+lap. At last she raised her eyes to him, and asked: "Mr. Harrison,
+did you receive the letter I wrote you?"
+
+"Yes," the other answered quickly, "I did. I cannot tell you how
+much pain it caused me. And, Helen--or must I call you Miss Davis?"
+
+"You may call me Helen," said the girl simply. "I was very sorry to
+cause you pain," she added, "but there was nothing else that I could
+do."
+
+"At least," the other responded, "I hope that you will not refuse to
+explain to me why this step is necessary?"
+
+"No, Mr. Harrison," said Helen, "it is right that I should tell you
+all, no matter how hard it is to me to do it. It is all because of a
+great wrong that I have done; I know that when I have told you, you
+will think very badly of me indeed, but I have no right to do
+anything except to speak the truth."
+
+She said that in a very low voice, not allowing her eyes to drop,
+and wearing upon her face the look of sadness which seemed now to
+belong to it always. Mr. Harrison gazed at her anxiously, and said:
+"You seem to have been ill, Helen."
+
+"I have been very unhappy, Mr. Harrison," she answered, "and I do
+not believe I can ever be otherwise again. Did you not notice that I
+was unhappy?"
+
+"I never thought of it until yesterday," the other replied.
+
+"Until the drive," said Helen; "that was the climax of it. I must
+tell you the reason why I was so frightened then,--that I have a
+friend who was as dear to me as if he were my brother, and he loved
+me very much, very much more than I deserve to be loved by anyone;
+and when I was engaged to you he was very ill, and because I knew I
+was doing so wrong I did not dare to go and see him. That was why I
+was afraid to pass through Hilltown. The reason I was so frightened
+afterwards is that I caught a glimpse of him, and he was in such a
+dreadful way. This morning I found that he had left his home and
+gone away, no one knows where, so that I fear I shall never see him
+again."
+
+Helen paused, and the other, who had sat down and was leaning
+forward anxiously, asked her, "Then it is this friend that you
+love?"
+
+"No," the girl replied, "it is not that; I do not love anybody."
+
+"But then I do not understand," went on Mr. Harrison, with a puzzled
+look. "You spoke of its having been so wrong; was it not your right
+to wish to marry me?"
+
+And Helen, punishing herself as she had learned so bravely to do,
+did not lower her eyes even then; she flushed somewhat, however, as
+she answered: "Mr. Harrison, do you know WHY I wished to marry you?"
+
+The other started a trifle, and looked very much at a loss indeed.
+"Why?" he echoed. "No, I do not know--that is--I never thought--"
+
+"It hurts me more than I can tell you to have to say this to you,"
+Helen said, "for you were right and true in your feeling. But did
+you think that I was that, Mr. Harrison? Did you think that I really
+loved you?"
+
+Probably the good man had never been more embarrassed in his life
+than he was just then. The truth to be told, he was perfectly well
+aware why Helen had wished to marry him, and had been all along,
+without seeing anything in that for which to dislike her; he was
+quite without an answer to her present question, and could only
+cough and stammer, and reach for his handkerchief. The girl went on
+quickly, without waiting very long for his reply.
+
+"I owe it to you to tell you the truth," she said, "and then it will
+no longer cause you pain to give me up. For I did not love you at
+all, Mr. Harrison; but I loved all that you offered me, and I
+allowed myself to be tempted thus, to promise to marry you. Ever
+afterwards I was quite wretched, because I knew that I was doing
+something wicked, and yet I never had the courage to stop. So it
+went on until my punishment came yesterday. I have suffered
+fearfully since that."
+
+Helen had said all that there was to be said, and she stopped and
+took a deep breath of relief. There was a minute or two of silence,
+after which Mr. Harrison asked: "And you really think that it was so
+wrong to promise to marry me for the happiness that I could offer
+you?"
+
+Helen gazed at him in surprise as she echoed, "Was it so wrong?" And
+at the same moment even while she was speaking, a memory flashed
+across her mind, the memory of what had occurred at Fairview the
+last time she had been there with Mr. Harrison. A deep, burning
+blush mantled her face, and her eyes dropped, and she trembled
+visibly. It was a better response to the other's question than any
+words could have been, and because in spite of his contact with the
+world he was still in his heart a gentleman, he understood and
+changed color himself and looked away, feeling perhaps more rebuked
+and humbled than he had ever felt in his life before.
+
+So they sat thus for several minutes without speaking a word, or
+looking at each other, each doing penance in his own heart. At last,
+in a very low voice, the man said, "Helen, I do not know just how I
+can ever apologize to you."
+
+The girl answered quietly: "I could not let you apologize to me, Mr.
+Harrison, for I never once thought that you had done anything
+wrong."
+
+"I have done very wrong indeed," he answered, his voice trembling,
+"for I do not think that I had any right even to ask you to marry
+me. You make me feel suddenly how very coarse a world I have lived
+in, and how much lower than yours all my ways of thinking are. You
+look surprised that I say that," he added, as he saw that the girl
+was about to interrupt him, "but you do not know much about the
+world. Do you suppose that there are many women in society who would
+hesitate to marry me for my money?"
+
+"I do not know," said Helen, slowly; "but, Mr. Harrison, you could
+certainly never be happy with a woman who would do that."
+
+"I do not think now that I should," the man replied, earnestly, "but
+I did not feel that way before. I did not have much else to offer,
+Helen, for money is all that a man like me ever tries to get in the
+world."
+
+"It is so very wrong, Mr. Harrison," put in the other, quickly.
+"When people live in that way they come to lose sight of all that is
+right and beautiful in life; and it is all so selfish and wicked!"
+(Those were words which might have made Mr. Howard smile a trifle
+had he been there to hear them; but Helen was too much in earnest to
+think about being original.)
+
+"I know," said Mr. Harrison, "and I used to believe in such things;
+but one never meets anyone else that does, and it is so easy to live
+differently. When you spoke to me as you did just now, you made me
+seem a very poor kind of a person indeed."
+
+The man paused, and Helen sat gazing at him with a worried look upon
+her face. "It was not that which I meant to do," she began, but then
+she stopped; and after a long silence, Mr. Harrison took up the
+conversation again, speaking in a low, earnest voice.
+
+"Helen," he said, "you have made me see that I am quite unworthy to
+ask for your regard,--that I have really nothing fit to offer you.
+But I might have one thing that you could appreciate,--for I could
+worship, really worship, such a woman as you; and I could do
+everything that I could think of to make myself worthy of you,--even
+if it meant the changing of all my ways of life. Do you not suppose
+that you could quite forget that I was a rich man, Helen, and still
+let me be devoted to you?"
+
+There was a look in Mr. Harrison's eyes as he gazed at her just then
+which made him seem to her a different sort of a man,--as indeed he
+was. She answered very gently. "Mr. Harrison," she said, "it would
+be a great happiness to me to know that anyone felt so about me. But
+I could never marry you; I do not love you."
+
+"And you do not think," asked the other, "that you could ever come
+to love me, no matter how long I might wait?"
+
+"I do not think so," Helen said in a low voice. "I wish that you
+would not ever think of me so."
+
+"It is very easy to say that," the man answered, pleadingly, "but
+how am I to do it? For everything that I have seems cheap compared
+with the thought of you. Why should I go on with the life I have
+been leading, heaping up wealth that I do not know how to use, and
+that makes me no better and no happier? I thought of you as a new
+motive for going on, Helen, and you must know that a man cannot so
+easily change his feelings. For I really loved you, and I do love
+you still, and I think that I always must love you."
+
+Helen's own suffering had made her alive to other people's feelings,
+and the tone of voice in which he spoke those words moved her very
+much. She leaned over and laid her hand upon his,--something which
+she would not have thought she could ever do.
+
+"Mr. Harrison," she said, "I cannot tell you how much it hurts me to
+have you speak to me so, for it makes me see more than ever how
+cruelly unfeeling I have been, and how much I have wronged you. It
+was for that I wished to beg you to forgive me, to forgive me just
+out of the goodness of your heart, for I cannot offer any excuse for
+what I did. It makes me quite wretched to have to say that, and to
+know that others are suffering because of my selfishness; if I had
+any thought of the sacredness of the beauty God has given me, I
+would never have let you think of me as you did, and caused you the
+pain that I have. But you must forgive me, Mr. Harrison, and help
+me, for to think of your being unhappy about me also would be really
+more than I could bear. Sometimes when I think of the one great
+sorrow that I have already upon my conscience, I feel that I do not
+know what I am to do; and you must go away and forget about me, for
+my sake if not for your own. I really cannot love anyone; I do not
+think that I am fit to love anyone; I only do not want to make
+anyone else unhappy."
+
+And Helen stopped again, and pressed her hand upon Mr. Harrison's
+imploringly. He sat gazing at her in silence for a minute, and then
+he said, slowly: "When you put it so, it is very hard for me to say
+anything more. If you are only sure that that is your final
+word--that there is really no chance that you could ever love me,--"
+
+"I am perfectly sure of it," the girl answered; "and because I know
+how cruel it sounds, it is harder for me to say than for you to
+hear. But it is really the truth, Mr. Harrison. I do not think that
+you ought to see me again until you are sure that it will not make
+you unhappy."
+
+The man sat for a moment after that, with his head bowed, and then
+he bit his lip very hard and rose from his chair. "You can never
+know," he said, "how lonely it makes a man feel to hear words like
+those." But he took Helen's hand in his and held it for an instant,
+and then added: "I shall do as you ask me. Good-by." And he let her
+hand fall and went to the door. There he stopped to gaze once again
+for a moment, and then turned and disappeared, closing the door
+behind him.
+
+Helen was left seated in the chair, where she remained for several
+minutes, leaning forward with her head in her hands, and gazing
+steadily in front of her, thinking very grave thoughts. She rose at
+last, however, and brushed back the hair from her forehead, and went
+slowly towards the door. It would have seemed lack of feeling to
+her, had she thought of it, but even before she had reached the
+stairs the scene through which she had just passed was gone from her
+mind entirely, and she was saying to herself, "If I could only know
+where Arthur is this afternoon!"
+
+Her mind was still full of that thought when she entered the room,
+where she found her aunt seated just as she had left her, and in no
+more pleasant humor than before.
+
+"You have told him, I suppose?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes," Helen said, "I have told him, Aunt Polly."
+
+"And now you are happy, I suppose!"
+
+"No, indeed, I am very far from that," said Helen, and she went to
+the window; she stood there, gazing out, but with her thoughts
+equally far away from the scene outside as from Mrs. Roberts'
+warnings and sarcasms. The latter had gone on for several minutes
+before her niece turned suddenly. "Excuse me for interrupting you,
+Aunt Polly," she said; "but I want to know whether Mr. Howard has
+gone yet."
+
+"His train goes in an hour or so," said Mrs. Roberts, not very
+graciously.
+
+"I think I will see if he is downstairs," Helen responded; "I wish
+to speak to him before he goes." And so she descended and found Mr.
+Howard seated alone upon the piazza.
+
+Taking a seat beside him, she said, "I did not thank you when I left
+you in the carriage, Mr. Howard, for having been so kind to me; but
+I was so wrapped up in my worry--"
+
+"I understood perfectly," put in the other. "I saw that you felt too
+keenly about your discovery to have anything to say to me."
+
+"I feel no less keenly about it now," said Helen; "but I could not
+let you go away until I had spoken to you." She gazed very earnestly
+at him as she continued: "I have to tell you how much you have done
+for me, and how I thank you for it from the bottom of my heart. I
+simply cannot say how much all that you have shown me has meant to
+me; I should have cared for nothing but to have you tell me what it
+would be right for me to do with my life,--if only it had not been
+for this dreadful misfortune of Arthur's, which makes it seem as if
+it would be wicked for me to think about anything."
+
+Mr. Howard sat gazing in front of him for a moment, and then he said
+gently, "What if the change that you speak of were to be
+accomplished, Miss Davis, without your ever thinking about it? For
+what is it that makes the difference between being thoughtless and
+selfish, and being noble and good, if it be not simply to walk
+reverently in God's great temple of life, and to think with sorrow
+of one's own self? Believe me, my dear friend, the best men that
+have lived on earth have seen no more cause to be pleased with
+themselves than you."
+
+"That may be true, Mr. Howard," said Helen, sadly, "but it can do me
+no good to know it. It does not make what happens to Arthur a bit
+less dreadful to think of."
+
+"It is the most painful fact about all our wrong," the other
+answered, "that no amount of repentance can ever alter the
+consequences. But, Miss Davis, that is a guilt which all creation
+carries on its shoulders; it is what is symbolized in the Fall of
+Man--that he has to realize that he might have had infinite beauty
+and joy for his portion, if only the soul within him had never
+weakened and failed. Let me tell you that he is a lucky man who can
+look back at all his life and see no more shameful guilt than yours,
+and no consequence worse than yours can be." As Mr. Howard spoke he
+saw a startled look cross the girl's face, and he added, "Do not
+suppose that I am saying that to comfort you, for it is really the
+truth. It oftens happens too, that the natures that are strongest
+and most ardent in their search for righteousness have the worst
+sins to remember."
+
+Helen did not answer for several moments, for the thought was
+strange to her; then suddenly she gazed at the other very earnestly
+and said: "Mr. Howard, you are a man who lives for what is beautiful
+and high,--suppose that YOU had to carry all through your life the
+burden of such guilt as mine?"
+
+The man's voice was trembling slightly as he answered her: "It is
+not hard for me to suppose that, Miss Davis; I HAVE such a burden to
+carry." As he raised his eyes he saw a still more wondering look
+upon her countenance.
+
+"But the consequences!" she exclaimed. "Surely, Mr. Howard, you
+could not bear to live if you knew--"
+
+"I have never known the consequences," said the man, as she stopped
+abruptly; "just as you may never know them; but this I know, that
+yours could not be so dreadful as mine must be. I know also that I
+am far more to blame for them than you."
+
+Helen could not have told what caused the emotion which made her
+shudder so just then as she gazed into Mr. Howard's dark eyes. Her
+voice was almost a whisper as she said, "And yet you are GOOD!"
+
+"I am good," said the man gently, "with all the goodness that any
+man can claim, the goodness of trying to be better. You may be that
+also."
+
+Helen sat for a long time in silence after that, wondering at what
+was passing in her own mind; it was as if she had caught a sudden
+glimpse into a great vista of life. She had always before thought of
+this man's suffering as having been physical; and the deep movement
+of sympathy and awe which stirred her now was one step farther from
+her own self-absorption, and one step nearer to the suffering that
+is the heart of things.
+
+But Helen had to keep that thought and dwell upon it in solitude;
+there was no chance for her to talk with Mr. Howard any more, for
+she heard her aunt's step in the hall behind her. She had only time
+to say, "I am going home myself this afternoon; will you come there
+to see me, Mr. Howard? I cannot tell you how much pleasure it would
+give me."
+
+"There is nothing I should like to do more," the man answered; "I
+hope to keep your friendship. When would you like me to come?"
+
+"Any time that you can," replied Helen. "Come soon, for I know how
+unhappy I shall be."
+
+That was practically the last word she said to Mr. Howard, for her
+aunt joined them, and after that the conversation was formal. It was
+not very long before the carriage came for him, and Helen pressed
+his hand gratefully at parting, and stood leaning against a pillar
+of the porch, shading her eyes from the sun while she watched the
+carriage depart. Then she sat down to wait for it to return from the
+depot for her, which it did before long; and so she bid farewell to
+her aunt.
+
+It was a great relief to Helen; and while we know not what emotions
+it may cause to the reader, it is perhaps well to say that he may
+likewise pay his last respects to the worthy matron, who will not
+take part in the humble events of which the rest of our story must
+be composed.
+
+For Helen was going home, home to the poor little parsonage of
+Oakdale! She was going with a feeling of relief in her heart second
+only to her sorow; the more she had come to feel how shallow and
+false was the splendor that had allured her, the more she had found
+herself drawn to her old home, with its memories that were so dear
+and so beautiful. She felt that there she might at least think of
+Arthur all that she chose, and meet with nothing to affront her
+grief; and also she found herself thinking of her father's love with
+a new kind of hunger.
+
+When she arrived, she found Mr. Davis waiting for her with a very
+anxious look upon his countenance; he had stopped at Hilltown on his
+way, and learned about Arthur's disappearance, and then heard from
+Elizabeth what she knew about Helen's engagement. The girl flung
+herself into his arms, and afterwards, quite overcome by the
+emotions that surged up within her, sank down upon her knees before
+him and sobbed out the whole story, her heart bursting with sorrow
+and contrition; as he lifted her up and kissed her and whispered his
+beautiful words of pardon and comfort, Helen found it a real
+homecoming indeed.
+
+Mr. Davis was also able to calm her worry a little by telling her
+that he did not think it possible that Arthur would keep his
+whereabouts secret from him very long. "When I find him, dear
+child," he said, "it will all be well again, for we will believe in
+love, you and I, and not care what the great world says about it. I
+think I could be well content that you should marry our dear
+Arthur."
+
+"But, father, I do not love him," put in Helen faintly.
+
+"That may come in time," said the other, kissing her tenderly, and
+smiling. "There is no need to talk of it, for you are too young to
+marry, anyway. And in the meantime we must find him."
+
+There was a long silence after that. Helen sat down on the sofa
+beside her father and put her arms about him and leaned her head
+upon his bosom, drinking in deep drafts of his pardon and love. She
+told him about Mr. Howard, and of the words of counsel which he had
+given her, and how he was coming to see her again. Afterwards the
+conversation came back to Arthur and his love for Helen, and then
+Mr. Davis went on to add something that caused Helen to open her
+eyes very wide and gaze at him in wonder.
+
+"There is still another reason for wishing to find him soon," he
+said, "for something else has happened to-day that he ought to know
+about."
+
+"What is it?" asked Helen.
+
+"I don't know that I ought to tell you about it just now," said the
+other, "for it is a very sad story. But someone was here to see
+Arthur this morning--someone whom I never expected to see again in
+all my life."
+
+"To see Arthur?" echoed the girl in perplexity. "Who could want to
+see Arthur?" As her father went on she gave a great start.
+
+"It was his mother," said Mr. Davis.
+
+And Helen stared at him, gasping for breath as she echoed the words,
+"His mother!"
+
+"You may well be astonished," said the clergyman. "But the woman
+proved beyond doubt that she was really the person who left Arthur
+with me."
+
+"You did not recognize her?"
+
+"No, Helen; for it has been twenty-one or two years since I saw her,
+and she has changed very much since then. But she told me that in
+all that time she has never once lost sight of her boy, and has been
+watching all that he did."
+
+"Where has she been?"
+
+"She did not tell me," the other answered, "but I fancy in New York.
+The poor woman has lived a very dreadful life, a life of such
+wretched wickedness that we cannot even talk about it; I think I
+never heard of more cruel suffering. I was glad that you were not
+here to see her, or know about it until after she was gone; she said
+that she had come to see Arthur once, because she was going away to
+die."
+
+"To die!" exclaimed the girl, in horror.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Davis, "to die; she looked as if she could not live
+many days longer. I begged her to let me see that she was provided
+for, but she said that she was going to find her way back to her old
+home, somewhere far off in the country, and she would hear of
+nothing else. She would not tell the name of the place, nor her own
+name, but she left a letter for Arthur, and begged me to find him
+and give it to him, so that he might come and speak to her once if
+he cared to do so. She begged me to forgive her for the trouble she
+had caused me, and to pray that God would forgive her too; and then
+she bade me farewell and dragged herself away."
+
+Mr. Davis stopped, and Helen sat for a long time staring ahead of
+her, with a very frightened look in her eyes, and thinking, "Oh, we
+MUST find Arthur!" Then she turned to her father, her lips trembling
+and her countenance very pale. "Tell me," she said, in a low,
+awe-stricken voice, "a long time ago someone must have wronged that
+woman."
+
+"Yes, dear," said Mr. Davis, "when she was not even as old as you
+are. And the man who wronged her was worth millions of dollars,
+Helen, and could have saved her from all her suffering with a few of
+them if he cared to. No one but God knows his name, for the woman
+would not tell it."
+
+Helen sat for a moment or two staring at him wildly; and then
+suddenly she buried her head in his bosom and burst into tears,
+sobbing so cruelly that her father was sorry he had told her what he
+had. He knew why that story moved her so, and it wrung his heart to
+think of it,--that this child of his had put upon her own shoulders
+some of that burden of the guilt of things, and must suffer beneath
+it, perhaps for the rest of her days.
+
+When Helen gazed up at him again there was the old frightened look
+upon her face, and all his attempts to comfort her were useless.
+"No, no!" she whispered. "No, father! I cannot even think of peace
+again, until we have found Arthur!"
+
+  Freundliches Voglein!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+  "A fugitive and gracious light he seeks,
+    Shy to illumine; and I seek it too.
+  This does not come with houses or with gold,
+    With place, with honor, and a flattering crew;
+  'Tis not in the world's market bought and sold."
+
+Three days passed by after Helen had returned to her father, during
+which the girl stayed by herself most of the time. When the breaking
+off of her engagement was known, many of her old friends came to see
+her, but the hints that they dropped did not move her to any
+confidences; she felt that it would not be possible for her to find
+among them any understanding of her present moods. Her old life, or
+rather the life to which she had been looking forward, seemed to her
+quite empty and shallow, and there was nothing useful that she knew
+of to do except to offer to help her father in such ways as she
+could. She drew back into her own heart, giving most of her time to
+thinking about Mr. Howard and Arthur, and no one but her father knew
+why it was that she was so subdued and silent.
+
+It was only on the third morning, when there came a letter from Mr.
+Howard saying that he was coming out that afternoon to see her, that
+Helen seemed to be interested and stirred again. She went to the
+window more than once to look for him; and when at last her friend
+had arrived, and the two were seated in the parlor, she said to him
+without waiting for any circumstance, "I have been wishing very much
+to see you, Mr. Howard, because there is something I am anxious to
+talk to you about, if you will let me."
+
+"I am sorry to say that it is about myself," she went on, when the
+other had expressed his willingness to hear her, "for I want to ask
+you to help me, and to give me some advice. I ought to have asked
+you the questions I am going to before this, but the last time I saw
+you I could think about nothing but Arthur. They only came to me
+after you had gone."
+
+"What are they?" asked the man.
+
+"You must knew, Mr. Howard," said Helen, "that it is you who have
+shown me the wrongness of all that I was doing in my life, and
+stirred me with a desire to do better. I find now that such thoughts
+have always been so far from me that the wish to be right is all
+that I have, and I do not know at all what to do. It seemed to me
+that I would rather talk to you about it than to anyone, even my own
+father. I do not know whether that is just right, but you do not
+mind my asking you, do you?"
+
+"It is my wish to help you in every way that I can," was the gentle
+response.
+
+"I will tell you what I have been thinking," said Helen. "I have
+been so unhappy in the last three days that I have done nothing at
+all; but it seemed to me somehow that it must be wrong of me to let
+go of myself in that way--as if I had no right to pamper myself and
+indulge my own feelings. It was not that I wished to forget what
+wrong things I have done, or keep from suffering because of them;
+yet it seemed to me that the fact that I was wretched and frightened
+was no excuse for my doing no good for the rest of my life. When I
+have thought about my duty before, it has always been my
+school-girl's task of studying and practicing music, but that is not
+at all what I want now, for I cannot bear to think of such things
+while the memory of Arthur is in my mind. I need something that is
+not for myself, Mr. Howard, and I find myself thinking that it
+should be something that I do not like to do."
+
+Helen paused for a moment, gazing at the other anxiously; and then
+she went on: "You must know that what is really behind what I am
+saying is what you said that evening in the arbor, about the kind of
+woman I ought to be because God has made me beautiful. My heart is
+full of a great hunger to be set right, and to get a clearer sight
+of the things that are truly good in life. I want you to talk to me
+about your own ideals, and what you do to keep your life deep and
+true; and then to tell me what you would do in my place. I promise
+you that no matter how hard it may be I shall feel that just what
+you tell me to do is my duty, and at least I shall never be happy
+again until I have done it. Do you understand how I feel, Mr.
+Howard?"
+
+"Yes," the man answered, in a quiet voice, "I understand you
+perfectly." And then as he paused, watching the girl from beneath
+his dark brows, Helen asked, "You do not mind talking to me about
+yourself?"
+
+"When a man lives all alone and as self-centered as I," the other
+replied, smiling, "it is fatally easy for him to do that; he may
+blend himself with his ideals in such a curious way that he never
+talks about anything else. But if you will excuse that, I will tell
+you what I can."
+
+"Tell me why it is that you live so much alone," said the girl. "Is
+it that you do not care for friends?"
+
+"It is very difficult for a man who feels about life as I do to find
+many friends," he responded. "If one strives to dwell in deep
+things, and is very keen and earnest about it, he is apt to find
+very little to help him outside of himself; perhaps it is because I
+have met very few persons in my life, but it has not happened to me
+to find anyone who thinks about it as I do, or who cares to live it
+with my strenuousness. I have met musicians, some who labored very
+hard at their art, but none who felt it a duty to labor with their
+own souls, to make them beautiful and strong; and I have met
+literary men and scholars, but they were all interested in books,
+and were willing to be learned, and to classify and plod; I have
+never found one who was swift and eager, and full of high impatience
+for what is real and the best. There should come times to a man, I
+think, when he feels that books are an impertinence, when he knows
+that he has only the long-delayed battle with his own heart to
+fight, and the prize of its joy to win. When such moods come upon
+him he sees that he has to live his life upon his knees, and it is
+rarely indeed that he knows of anyone who can follow him and share
+in his labor. So it is that I have had to live all my life by
+myself, Miss Davis."
+
+"You have always done that?" Helen asked, as he stopped.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "or for very many years. I have a little house
+on the wildest of lakes up in the mountains, wyhere I play the
+hermit in the summer, and where I should have been now if it had not
+been that I yielded to your aunt's invitation. When I spoke of
+having no friends I forgot the things of Nature, which really do
+sympathize with an artist's life; I find that they never fail to
+become full of meaning whenever my own spirit shakes off its bonds.
+It has always been a belief of mine that there is nothing that
+Nature makes that is quite so dull and unfeeling as man,--with the
+exception of children and lovers, I had much rather play my violin
+for the flowers and the trees."
+
+"You like to play it out of doors?" Helen asked, with a sudden
+smile.
+
+"Yes," laughed the other, "that is one of my privileges as a hermit.
+It seems quite natural to the wild things, for they have all a music
+of their own, a wonderful, silent music that the best musicians
+cannot catch; do you not believe that, Miss Davis?"
+
+"Yes," Helen said, and sat gazing at her companion silently for a
+minute. "I should think a life of such effort would be very hard,"
+she said finally. "Do you not ever fail?"
+
+"I do not do much else," he replied with a sad smile, "and get up
+and stumble on. The mastership of one's heart is the ideal, you
+know; and after all one's own life cannot be anything but struggle
+and failure, for the power he is trying to conquer is infinite. When
+I find my life very hard I do not complain, but know that the reason
+for it is that I have chosen to have it real, and that the essence
+of the soul is its effort. I think that is a very important thing to
+feel about life, Miss Davis."
+
+"That is why I do not wish to be idle," said Helen.
+
+"It is just because people do not know this fact about the soul,"
+the other continued, "and are not willing to dare and suffer, and
+overcome dullness, and keep their spiritual faculties free, that
+they sink down as they grow older, and become what they call
+practical, and talk very wisely about experience. It is only when
+God sends into the world a man of genius that no mountains of earth
+can crush, and who keeps his faith and sweetness all through his
+life that we learn the baseness of the thought that experience
+necessarily brings cynicism and selfishness. There is to me in all
+this world nothing more hateful than this disillusioned worldliness,
+and nothing makes me angrier than to see it taking the name of
+wisdom. If I were a man with an art, there is nothing, I think, that
+I should feel more called to make war upon; it is a very blow in the
+face of God. Nothing makes me sadder than to see the life that such
+people live,--to see for instance how pathetic are the things they
+call their entertainments; and when one knows himself that life is a
+magic potion, to be drank with rapture and awe,--that every instance
+of it ought to be a hymn of rejoicing, and the whole of it rich and
+full of power, like some majestic symphony. I often find myself
+wishing that there were some way of saving the time that people
+spend in their pleasures;
+
+    "'Life piled on life
+  Were all too little, and of one to me
+  Little remains.'
+
+As I kneel before God's altar of the heart I know that if I had
+infinite time and infinite energy there would be beauty and joy
+still to seek, and so as I look about me in the world and see all
+the sin and misery that is in it, it is my comfort to know that the
+reason for it is that men are still living the lives of the animals,
+and have not even dreamed of the life that belongs to them as men.
+That is something about which I feel very strongly myself,--that is
+part of my duty as a man who seeks worship and rightness to mark
+that difference in my own life quite plainly."
+
+Mr. Howard paused for a moment, and Helen said very earnestly, "I
+wish that you would tell me about that."
+
+"I consider it my duty," the other replied, "to keep all the
+external circumstances of my life as simple and as humble as I
+should have to if I were quite poor. If I were not physically
+unable, I should feel that I ought to do for my own self all that I
+needed to have done, for I think that if it is necessary that others
+should be degraded to menial service in order that my soul might be
+beautiful and true, then life is bad at the heart of it, and I want
+none of its truth and beauty. I do not have to look into my heart
+very long, Miss Davis, to discover that what I am seeking in life is
+something that no millions of money can buy me; and when I am face
+to face with the sternness of what I call that spiritual fact, I see
+that fine houses and all the rest are a foolish kind of toy, and
+wonder that any man should think that he can please me by giving the
+labor of his soul to making them. It is much the same thing as I
+feel, for instance, when I go to hear a master of music, and find
+that he has spent his hours in torturing himself and his fingers in
+order to give me an acrobatic exhibition, when all the time what I
+wish him to do, and what his genius gave him power to do, was to
+find the magic word that should set free the slumbering demon of my
+soul. So I think that a man who wishes to grow by sympathy and
+worship should do without wealth, if only because it is so trivial;
+but of course I have left unmentioned what is the great reason for a
+self-denying life, the reason that lies at the heart of the matter,
+and that includes all the others in it,--that he who lives by prayer
+and joy makes all men richer, but he who takes more than his bare
+necessity of the wealth of the body must know that he robs his
+brother when he does it. The things of the soul are everywhere, but
+wealth stands for the toil and suffering of human beings, and
+thousands must starve and die so that one rich man may live at ease.
+That is no fine rhetoric that I am indulging in, but a very deep and
+earnest conviction of my soul; first of all facts of morality stands
+the law that the life of man is labor, and that he who chooses to
+live otherwise is a dastard. He may chase the phantom of happiness
+all his days and not find it, and yet never guess the reason,--that
+joy is a melody of the heart, and that he is playing upon an
+instrument that is out of tune. Few people choose to think of that
+at all, but I cannot afford ever to forget it, for my task is to
+live the artist's life, to dwell close to the heart of things; it is
+something that I simply cannot understand how any man who pretends
+to do that can know of the suffering and starving that is in the
+world, and can feel that he who has God's temple of the soul for his
+dwelling, has right to more of the pleasures of earth than the
+plainest food and shelter and what tools of his art he requires. If
+it is otherwise it can only be because he is no artist at all, no
+lover of life, but only a tradesman under another name, using God's
+high gift to get for himself what he can, and thinking of his
+sympathy and feeling as things that he puts on when he goes to work,
+and when he is sure that they will cost him no trouble."
+
+Mr. Howard had been speaking very slowly, and in a deep and earnest
+voice; he paused for a moment, and then added with a slight smile,
+"I have been answering your question without thinking about it, Miss
+Davis, for I have told you all that there is to tell about my life."
+
+Helen did not answer, but sat for a long time gazing at him and
+thinking very deeply; then she said to him, her voice shaking
+slightly: "You have answered only half of my question, Mr. Howard; I
+want you to tell me what a woman can do to bring those high things
+into her life--to keep her soul humble and strong. I do not think
+that I have your courage and self-reliance."
+
+The man's voice dropped lower as he answered her, "Suppose that you
+were to find this friend of yours that knows you so well, and loves
+you so truly; do you not think that there might be a chance for you
+to win this prize of life that I speak of?" Helen did not reply, but
+sat with her eyes still fixed upon the other's countenance; as he
+went on, his deep, musical voice held them there by a spell.
+
+"Miss Davis," he said, "a man does not live very long in the kingdom
+of the soul before there comes to be one thing that he loves more
+than anything else that life can offer; that thing is love. For love
+is the great gateway into the spiritual life, the stage of life's
+journey when human beings are unselfish and true to their hearts, if
+ever the power of unselfishness and truth lies in them. As for man,
+he has many battles to fight and much of himself to kill before the
+great prizes of the soul can be his--but the true woman has but one
+glory and one duty in life, and sacredness and beauty are hers by
+the free gift of God. If she be a true woman, when her one great
+passion takes its hold upon her it carries all her being with it,
+and she gives herself and all that she has. Because I believe in
+unselfishness and know that love is the essence of things, I find in
+all the world nothing more beautiful than that, and think that she
+has no other task in life, except to see that the self which she
+gives is her best and Inghest, and to hold to the thought of the
+sacredness of what she is doing. For love is the soul's great act of
+worship, and the heart's great awakening to life. If the man be
+selfish and a seeker of pleasure, what I say of love and woman is
+not for him; but if he be one who seeks to worship, to rouse the
+soul within him to its vision of the beauty and preciousness of
+life, then he must know that this is the great chance that Nature
+gives him, that no effort of his own will ever carry him so far
+towards what he seeks. The woman who gives herself to him he takes
+for his own with awe and trembling, knowing that the glory which he
+reads in her eyes is the very presence of the spirit of life; and
+because she stands for this precious thing to him he seeks her love
+more than anything else upon earth, feeling that if he has it he has
+everything, and if he has it not, he has nothing. He cherishes the
+woman as before he cherished what was best in his own soul; he
+chooses all fair and noble actions that may bring him still more of
+her love; all else that life has for him he lays as an offering at
+the shrine of her heart, all his joy and all his care, and asks but
+love in return; and because the giving of love is the woman's joy
+and the perfectness of her sacrifice, her glory, they come to forget
+themselves in each other's being, and to live their lives in each
+other's hearts. The joy that each cares for is no longer his own
+joy, but the other's; and so they come to stand for the sacredness
+of God to each other, and for perpetual inspiration. By and by,
+perhaps, from long dwelling out of themselves and feeding their
+hearts upon things spiritual, they learn the deep and mystic
+religion of love, that is the last lesson life has to teach; it is
+given to no man to know what is the source of this mysterious being
+of ours, but men who come near to it find it so glorious that they
+die for it in joy; and the least glimpse of it gives a man quite a
+new feeling about a human heart. So at last it happens that the
+lovers read a fearful wonder in each other's eyes, and give each
+other royal greeting, no longer for what they are, but for that
+which they would like to be. They come to worship together as they
+could never have worshiped apart; and always that which they worship
+and that in which they dwell, is what all existence is seeking with
+so much pain, the sacred presence of wonder that some call Truth,
+and some Beauty,--but all Love. When you ask me how unselfishness is
+to be made yours in life, that is the answer which I give you."
+
+Mr. Howard's voice had dropped very low; as he stopped Helen was
+trembling within herself. She was drinking still more from the
+bottomless cup of her humiliation and remorse, for she was still
+haunted by the specter of what she had done. The man went on after
+an interval of silence.
+
+"I think there is no one," he said, "whom these things touch more
+than the man who would live the life of art that I have talked of
+before; for the artist seeks experience above all things, seeks it
+not only for himself but for his race. And it must come from his own
+heart; no one can drive him to his task. All artists tell that the
+great source of their power is love; and the wisest of them makes of
+his love an art-work, as he makes an art-work of his life. He counts
+his power of loving most sacred of all his powers, and guards it
+from harm as he guards his life itself; he gives all his soul to the
+dreaming of that dream, and lays all his prayer before it; and when
+he meets with the maiden who will honor such effort, he forgets
+everything else in his life, and gives her all his heart, and
+studies to 'worship her by years of noble deeds.' For a woman who
+loves love, the heart of such a man is a lifetime's treasure; for
+his passion is of the soul, and does not die; and all that he has
+done has been really but a training of himself for that great
+consecration. If he be a true artist, all his days have been spent
+in learning to wrestle with himself, to rouse himself and master his
+own heart; until at last his very being has become a prayer, and his
+soul like a great storm of wind that sweeps everything away in its
+arms. Perhaps that hunger has possessed him so that he never even
+wakens in the dead of night without finding it with him in all its
+strength; it rouses him in the morning with a song, and when
+midnight comes and he is weary, it is a benediction and a hand upon
+his brow. All the time, because he has a man's heart and knows of
+his life's great glory, his longing turns to a dream of love, to a
+vision of the flying perfect for which all his life is a search.
+There is a maiden who dwells in all the music that he hears, and who
+calls to him in the sunrise, and flings wide the flowers upon the
+meadows; she treads before him on the moonlit waters and strews them
+with showers of fire. If his soul be only strong enough, perhaps he
+waits long years for that perfect woman, that woman who loves not
+herself, but loves love; and all the time the yearning of his heart
+is growing, so that those who gaze at him wonder why his eyes are
+dark and sunken. He knows that his heart is a treasure-house which
+he himself cannot explore, and that in all the world he seeks
+nothing but some woman before whom he might fling wide its doors."
+
+Helen had been leaning on the table, holding her hands in front of
+her; towards the end they were trembling so much that she took them
+away and clasped them in her lap. When he ceased her eyes were
+lowered; she could not see how his were fixed upon her, but she knew
+that her bosom was heaving painfully, and that there were hot tears
+upon her cheeks. He added slowly: "I have told you all that I think
+about life, my dear friend, and all that I think about love; so I
+think I have told you all that I know." And Helen lifted her eyes to
+his and gazed at him through her tears.
+
+"You tell _me_ of such things?" she asked. "You give such advice to
+_me_!"
+
+"Yes," said the other, gently, "why not to you?"
+
+"Mr. Howard," Helen answered, "do you not know what I have done, and
+how I must feel while I listen to you? It is good that I should hear
+such things, because I ought to suffer; but when I asked you for
+your advice I wished for something hard and stern to do, before I
+dared ever think of love, or feel myself right again."
+
+Mr. Howard sat watching her for a moment in silence, and then he
+answered gently, "I do not think, my dear friend, that it is our
+duty as struggling mortals to feel ourselves right at all; I am not
+even sure that we ought to care about our rightness in the least.
+For God has put high and beautiful things in the world, things that
+call for all our attention; and I am sure that we are never so close
+to rightness as when we give all our devotion to them and cease
+quite utterly to think about ourselves. And besides that, the love
+that I speak of is not easy to give, Miss Davis. It is easy to give
+up one's self in the first glow of feeling; but to forget one's self
+entirely, and one's comfort and happiness in all the little things
+of life; to consecrate one's self and all that one has to a lifetime
+of patience and self-abnegation; and to seek no reward and ask for
+no happiness but love,--do you not think that such things would cost
+one pain and bring a good conscience at last?"
+
+Helen's voice was very low as she answered, "Perhaps, at last." Then
+she sat very still, and finally raised her deep, earnest eyes and
+leaned forward and gazed straight into her companion's. "Mr.
+Howard," she said, "you must know that YOU are my conscience; and it
+is the memory of your words that causes me all my suffering. And now
+tell me one thing; suppose I were to say to you that I could beg
+upon my knees for a chance to earn such a life as that; and suppose
+I should ever come really to love someone, and should give up
+everything to win such a treasure, do you think that I could clear
+my soul from what I have done, and win rightness for mine? Do you
+think that you--that YOU could ever forget that I was the woman who
+had wished to sell her love for money?"
+
+Mr. Howard answered softly, "Yes, I think so."
+
+"But are you sure of it?" Helen asked; and when she had received the
+same reply she drew a long breath, and a wonderful expression of
+relief came upon her face; all her being seemed to rise,--as if all
+in an instant she had flung away the burden of shame and fear that
+had been crushing her soul. She sat gazing at the other with a
+strange look in her eyes, and then she sank down and buried her head
+in her arms upon the table.
+
+And fully a minute passed thus without a sound. Helen was just
+lifting her head again, and Mr. Howard was about to speak, when an
+unexpected interruption caused him to stop. The front door was
+opened, and as Helen turned with a start the servant came and stood
+in the doorway.
+
+"What is it, Elizabeth?" Helen asked in a faint voice.
+
+"I have just been to the post office," the woman answered; "here is
+a letter for you."
+
+"Very well," Helen answered; "give it to me."
+
+And she took it and put it on the table in front of her. Then she
+waited until the servant was gone, and in the meantime, half
+mechanically, turned her eyes upon the envelope. Suddenly the man
+saw her give a violent start and turn very pale; she snatched up the
+letter and sprang to her feet, and stood supporting herself by the
+chair, her hand shaking, and her breath coming in gasps.
+
+"What is it?" Mr. Howard cried.
+
+Helen's voice was hoarse and choking as she answered him: "It is
+from Arthur!" As he started and half rose from his chair the girl
+tore open the letter and unfolded the contents, glancing at it once
+very swiftly, her eyes flying from line to line; the next instant
+she let it fall to the floor with a cry and clutched with her hands
+at her bosom. She tried to speak, but she was choking with her
+emotion; only her companion saw that her face was transfigured with
+delight; and then suddenly she sank down upon the sofa beside her,
+her form shaken with hysterical laughter and sobbing.
+
+Mr. Howard had risen from his chair in wonder; but before he could
+take a step toward her he heard someone in the hall, and Mr. Davis
+rushed into the room. "Helen, Helen!" he exclaimed, "what is the
+matter?" and sank down upon his knees beside her; the girl raised
+her head and then flung herself into his arms, exclaining
+incoherently: "Oh, Daddy, I am free! Oh, oh--can you believe it--I
+am free!"
+
+Long after her first ecstasy had passed Helen still lay with her
+head buried in her father's bosom, trembling and weeping and
+repeating half as if in a dream that last wonderful word, "Free!"
+Meanwhile Mr. Davis had bent down and picked up the paper to glance
+over it.
+
+Most certainly Arthur would have wondered had he seen the effect of
+that letter upon Helen; for he wrote to her with bitter scorn, and
+told her that he had torn his love for her from his heart, and made
+himself master of his own life again. He bid her go on in the course
+she had chosen, for a day or two had been enough for him to find the
+end of her power over him, and of his care for her; and he added
+that he wrote to her only that she might not please herself with the
+thought of having wrecked him, and that he was going far away to
+begin his life again.
+
+The words brought many emotions to Mr. Davis, and suggested many
+doubts; but to Helen they brought but one thought. She still clung
+to her father, sobbing like a child and muttering the one word
+"Free!" When at last the fit had vented itself and she looked up
+again, she seemed to Mr. Howard more like a girl than she ever had
+before; and she wiped away her tears laughingly, and smoothed back
+her hair, and was wonderfully beautiful in her emotion. She
+introduced Mr. Howard to her father, and begged him to excuse her
+for her lack of self-control. "I could not help it," she said, "for
+oh, I am so happy--so happy!" And she leaned her head upon her
+father's shoulder again and gazed up into his face. "Daddy dear,"
+she said, "and are you not happy too?"
+
+"My dear," Mr Davis protested, "of course I am glad to hear that
+Arthur is himself again. But that is not finding him, and I fear--"
+
+"Oh, oh, please don't!" Helen cried, the frightened look coming back
+upon her face in a flash. "Oh please do not tell me that--no, no! Do
+let me be happy just a little while--think of it, how wretched I
+have been! And now to know he is safe! Oh, please, Daddy!" And the
+tears had welled up in Helen's eyes again. She turned quickly to Mr.
+Howard, her voice trembling. "Tell me that I may be happy," she
+exclaimed. "You know all about it, Mr. Howard. Is it not right that
+I should be happy just a little?"
+
+As her friend answered her gently that he thought it was, she sat
+looking at him for a moment, and then the cloud passed over. She
+brushed away her tears, and put her arms about her father again.
+
+"I cannot help it," she went on, quickly, "I must be happy whether I
+want to or not! You must not mind anything I do! For oh, think what
+it means to have been so wretched, so crushed and so frightened! I
+thought that all my life was to be like that, that I could never
+sing again, because Arthur was ruined. Nobody will ever know how I
+felt,--how many tears I shed; and now think what it means to be
+free--to be free,--oh, free! And to be able to be good once more! I
+should go mad if I thought about it!"
+
+Helen had risen as she spoke, and she spread out her arms and flung
+back her head and drank in a deep breath of joy. She began singing,
+half to herself; and then as that brought a sudden idea into her
+mind she ran to the window and shut it quickly. "I will sing you my
+hymn!" she laughed, "_that_ is the way to be happy!"
+
+And she went to the piano; in a minute more she had begun the chorus
+she had sung to Arthur, "Hail thee Joy, from Heaven descending!" The
+flood of emotion that was pent up within her poured itself out in
+the wild torrent of music, and Helen seemed happy enough to make up
+for all the weeks of suffering. As she swept herself on she proved
+what she had said,--that she would go mad if she thought much about
+her release; and Mr. Howard and her father sat gazing at her in
+wonder. When she stopped she was quite exhausted and quite dazed,
+and came and buried her head in her father's arms, and sat waiting
+until the heaving of her bosom had subsided, and she was calm once
+more,--in the meantime murmuring faintly to herself again and again
+that she was happy and that she was free.
+
+When she looked up and brushed away her tangled hair again, perhaps
+she thought that her conduct was not very conventional, for she
+begged Mr. Howard's pardon once more, promising to be more orderly
+by and by. Then she added, laughing, "It is good that you should see
+me happy, though, because I have always troubled you with my
+egotisms before." She went on talking merrily, until suddenly she
+sprang up and said, "I shall have to sing again if I do not run
+away, so I am going upstairs to make myself look respectable!" And
+with that she danced out of the room, waking the echoes of the house
+with her caroling:
+
+  "Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
+  Under the blossom that hangs on the bough!"
+
+  Lus-tig im Leid, sing'ich von Lieb-e!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+  "Some one whom I can court
+    With no great change of manner,
+  Still holding reason's fort,
+    Tho waving fancy's banner."
+
+Several weeks had passed since Helen had received the letter from
+Arthur, the girl having in the meantime settled quietly down at
+Oakdale She had seen few of her friends excepting Mr. Howard, who
+had come out often from the city.
+
+She was expecting a visit from him one bright afternoon, and was
+standing by one of the pillars of the vine-covered porch, gazing up
+at the blue sky above her and waiting to hear the whistle of the
+train. When she saw her friend from the distance she waved her hand
+to him and went to meet him, laughing, "I am going to take you out
+to see my stream and my bobolink to-day. You have not seen our
+country yet, you know."
+
+The girl seemed to Mr. Howard more beautiful that afternoon than he
+had ever known her before, for she was dressed all in white and
+there was the old spring in her step, and the old joy in her heart.
+When they had passed out of the village, she found the sky so very
+blue, and the clouds so very white, and the woods and meadows so
+very green, that she was radiantly happy and feared that she would
+have to sing. And she laughed:
+
+  "Away, away from men and towns,
+  To the wild wood and the downs!"
+
+And then interrupted herself to say, "You must not care, Mr. Howard,
+if I chatter away and do all the talking. It has been a long time
+since I have paid a visit to my friends out here, and they will all
+be here to welcome me."
+
+Even as Helen spoke she looked up, and there was the bobolink flying
+over her head and pouring out his song; also the merry breeze was
+dancing over the meadows, and everything about her was in motion.
+
+"Do you know," she told her companion, "I think most of the
+happiness of my life has been out in these fields; I don't know what
+made me so fond of the country, but even when I was a very little
+thing, whenever I learned a new song I would come out here and sing
+it. Those were times when I had nothing to do but be happy, you
+know, and I never thought about anything else. It has always been so
+easy for me to be happy, I don't know why. There is a fountain of
+joy in my heart that wells up whether I want it to or not, so that I
+can always be as merry as I choose. I am afraid that is very
+selfish, isn't it, Mr. Howard? I am trying to be right now, you
+know."
+
+"You may consider you are being merry for my sake at present," said
+the man with a laugh. "It is not always so easy for me to be
+joyful."
+
+"Very well, then," smiled Helen; "I only wish that you had brought
+your violin along. For you see I always think of these things of
+Nature with music; when I was little they were all creatures that
+danced with me. These winds that are so lively were funny little
+fairy-men, and you could see all the flowers shake as they swept
+over them; whenever I heard any music that was quick and bright I
+always used to fancy that some of them had hold of my hands and were
+teaching me to run. I never thought about asking why, but I used to
+find that very exciting. And then there was my streamlet--he's just
+ahead here past the bushes--and I used to like him best of all. For
+he was a very beautiful youth, with a crown of flowers upon his
+head; there was a wonderful light in his eyes, and his voice was
+very strong and clear, and his step very swift, so it was quite
+wonderful when you danced with him. For he was the lord of all the
+rest, and everything around you got into motion then; there was
+never any stopping, for you know the streamlet always goes faster
+and faster, and gets more and more joyous, until you cannot bear it
+any more and have to give up. We shall have to play the Kreutzer
+Sonata some time, Mr. Howard.'
+
+"I was thinking of that," said the other, smiling.
+
+"I think it would be interesting to know what people imagine when
+they listen to music," went on Helen. "I have all sorts of queer
+fancies for myself; whenever it gets too exciting there is always
+one last resource, you can fly away to the top of the nearest
+mountain. I don't know just why that is, but perhaps it's because
+you can see so much from there, or because there are so many winds;
+anyway, there is a dance--a wonderfully thrilling thing, if only the
+composer knows how to manage it. There is someone who dances with
+me--I never saw his face, but he's always there; and everything
+around you is flying fast, and there comes surge after surge of the
+music and sweeps you on,--perhaps some of those wild runs on the
+violins that are just as if the wind took you up in its arms and
+whirled you away in the air! That is a most tremendous experience
+when it happens, because then you go quite beside yourself and you
+see that all the world is alive and full of power; the great things
+of the forest begin to stir too, the trees and the strange shapes in
+the clouds, and all the world is suddenly gone mad with motion; and
+so by the time you come to the last chords your hands are clenched
+and you can hardly breathe, and you feel that all your soul is
+throbbing!"
+
+Helen was getting quite excited then, just over her own enthusiasm;
+perhaps it was because the wind was blowing about her. "Is that the
+way music does with you?" she laughed, as she stopped.
+
+"Sometimes," said Mr. Howard, smiling in turn; "but then again while
+all my soul is throbbing I feel my neighbor reaching to put on her
+wraps, and that brings me down from the mountains so quickly that it
+is painful; afterwards you go outside among the cabs and cable-cars,
+and make sad discoveries about life."
+
+"You are a pessimist," said the girl.
+
+"Possibly," responded the other, "but try to keep your fountain of
+joy a while, Miss Davis. There are disagreeable things in life to be
+done, and some suffering to be borne, and sometimes the fountain
+dries up very quickly indeed."
+
+Helen was much more ready to look serious than she would have been a
+month before; she asked in a different tone, "You think that must
+always happen?"
+
+"Not quite always," was the reply; "there are a few who manage to
+keep it, but it means a great deal of effort. Perhaps you never took
+your own happiness so seriously," he added with a smile.
+
+"No," said Helen, "I never made much effort that I know of."
+
+"Some day perhaps you will have to," replied the other, "and then
+you will think of the creatures of nature as I do, not simply as
+rejoicing, but as fighting the same battle and daring the same pain
+as you."
+
+The girl thought for a moment, and then asked: "Do you really
+believe that as a fact?"
+
+"I believe something," was the answer, "that makes me think when I
+go among men and see their dullness, that Nature is flinging wide
+her glory in helpless appeal to them; and that it is a dreadful
+accident that they have no eyes and she no voice." He paused for a
+moment and then added, smiling, "It would take metaphysics to
+explain that; and meanwhile we were talking about your precious
+fountain of joy."
+
+"I should think," answered Helen, thoughtfully, "that it would be
+much better to earn one's happiness."
+
+"Perhaps after you had tried it a while you would not think so,"
+replied her companion; "that is the artist's life, you know, and in
+practice it is generally a very dreadful life. Real effort is very
+hard to make; and there is always a new possibility to lure the
+artist, so that his life is always restless and a cruel defeat."
+
+"It is such a life that you have lived, Mr. Howard?" asked Helen,
+gazing at him.
+
+"There are compensations," he replied, smiling slightly, "or there
+would be no artists. There comes to each one who persists some hour
+of victory, some hour when he catches the tide of his being at the
+flood, and when he finds himself master of all that his soul
+contains, and takes a kind of fierce delight in sweeping himself on
+and in breaking through everything that stands in his way. You made
+me think of such things by what you said of your joy in music; only
+perhaps the artist discovers that not only the streamlets and the
+winds have motion and meaning, but that the planets also have a word
+for his soul; and his own being comes suddenly to seem to him a
+power which it frightens him to know of, and he sees the genius of
+life as a spirit with eyes of flame. It lifts him from his feet and
+drags him away, and the task of his soul takes the form of something
+that he could cry out to escape. He has fought his way into the
+depths of being at last, and lie stands alone in all his littleness
+on the shore of an ocean whose waves are centuries--and then even
+while he is wondering and full of fear, his power begins to die
+within him and to go he knows not how; and when he looks at himself
+again he is like a man who has had a dream, and wakened with only
+the trembling left; except that he knows it was no dream but a fiery
+reality, and that the memory of it will cast a shadow over all the
+rest of his days and make them seem trivial and meaningless. No one
+knows how many years he may spend in seeking and never find that
+lost glory again."
+
+Mr. Howard had been speaking very intensely, and when he stopped
+Helen did not reply at once, but continued gazing at him. "What is
+the use of such moments," she asked at last, "if they only make one
+wretched?"
+
+"At least one may keep the memory," he replied with a smile, "and
+that gives him a standard of reality. He learns to be humble, and
+learns how to judge men and men's glory, and the wonderful things of
+men's world,--so that while they are the most self-occupied and
+self-delighted creatures living he may see them as dumb cattle that
+are grazing while the sunrise is firing the hilltops."
+
+"You have had such moments yourself?" asked Helen.
+
+"A long time ago," said the other, smiling at the seriousness with
+which she spoke. "When you were telling me about your musical
+fancies you made me remember how once when I was young I climbed a
+high hill and had an adventure with a wind that was very swift and
+eager. At first I recollect I tried not to heed it, because I had
+been dull and idle and unhappy; but I found that I could not be very
+long in the presence of so much life without being made ashamed, and
+that brave windstorm put me through a course of repentance of the
+very sternest kind before it let me go. I tried just to promise that
+I would be more wide-awake and more true, but it paid not the least
+attention to that; and it would hear no arguments as to the
+consequences,--it came again and again with a furious burst, and
+swept me away every time I tried to think; it declared that I had
+been putting off the task of living my life long enough, and that I
+was to attend to it then and there. And when I gave myself up as
+demanded, it had not the least mercy upon me, and each time that I
+protested that I was at the end of my power it simply whirled me
+away again like a mad thing. When at last I came down from the
+hillside I had quite a new idea of what living meant, and I have
+been more respectful before the winds and other people of genius
+ever since."
+
+Helen felt very much at home in that merry phantasy of her
+companion's, but she did not say anything; after a moment's waiting
+the other went on to tell her of something else that pleased her no
+less. "I remember," he said, "how as I came down I chanced upon a
+very wonderful sight, one which made an impression upon me that I
+have not forgotten. It was a thicket of wild roses; and I have
+always dreamed that the wild rose was a creature of the wind and
+fire, but I never knew so much about it before. After that day I
+have come seriously to believe it would be best if we prudent and
+timid creatures, who neither dare nor care anything for the sake of
+beauty,--if we simply did not ever see the wild rose. For it lives
+only for a day or two, Miss Davis, and yet, as I discovered then, we
+may live all our years and never get one such burst of glory, one
+such instant of exultation and faith as that. And also I seriously
+think that among men and all the wonderful works of men there is
+nothing so beautiful and so precious as that little flower that none
+of them heeds."
+
+Mr. Howard glanced at the girl suddenly; she had half stopped in her
+walk, and she was gazing at him with a very eager look in her bright
+eyes. "What is it?" he asked her, and Helen exclaimed, "Oh, I am so
+glad you mentioned it! I had forgotten--actually forgotten!"
+
+As her friend looked puzzled, the girl went on with her merriest
+laugh, "I must tell you all about it, and we shall be happy once
+more; for you turn down this path towards the woods, and then you
+must go very quietly and hold your breath, and prepare yourself just
+as if you were going into a great cathedral; for you want all your
+heart to be full of expectation and joy! It is for only about one
+week in the year that you may see this great sight, and the
+excitement of the first rapture is best of all. It would be so
+dreadful if you were not reverent; you must fancy that you are
+coming to hear a wonderful musician, and you know that he'll play
+for you, but you don't know just when. That's what I used to
+pretend, and I used to come every day for a week or two, and very
+early in the morning, when the dew was still everywhere and the
+winds were still gay. Several times you go back home disappointed,
+but that only makes you more eager for the next time; and when you
+do find them it is wonderful--oh, most wonderful! For there is a
+whole hedge of them along the edge of the wood; and you may be just
+as madly happy as you choose and never be half happy enough, because
+they are so beautiful!"
+
+"These are wild roses?" asked the other, smiling.
+
+"Yes," said Helen, "and oh, think how many days I have forgotten
+them, and they may have bloomed! And for three years I have not been
+here, and I was thinking about it all the way over on the steamer."
+They had come to the path that turned off to the woods, and Helen
+led her companion down it, still prattling away in the meantime;
+when they came to the edge of the woods she began walking upon tip
+toe, and put her fingers upon her lips in fun. Then suddenly she
+gave a cry of delight, for there were the roses for a fact, a whole
+hedge of them as she had said, glowing in the bright sun and making
+a wonderful vision.
+
+The two stopped and stood gazing at them, the girl's whole soul
+dancing within her. "Oh do you know," she cried suddenly, "I think
+that I could get drunk with just looking at roses! There is a
+strange kind of excitement that comes over one, from drinking in the
+sight of their rich red, and their gracefulness and perfume; it
+makes all my blood begin to flow faster, and I quite forget
+everything else." Helen stood for a few moments longer with her
+countenance of joy; afterwards she went towards the flowers and
+knelt down in front of them, choosing a bud that was very perfect.
+"I always allow myself just one," she said, "just one for love," and
+then she bent over it, whispering softly:
+
+  "Hush,'tis the lullaby time is singing,
+  Hush and heed not, for all things pass."
+
+She plucked it and held it up before her, while the wind came up
+behind her and tossed it about, and tossed her skirts; Helen,
+radiant with laughter, glanced at her companion, saying gaily, "You
+must hold it very lightly, just like this, you know, with one finger
+and a thumb; and then you may toss it before you and lose yourself
+in its perfectness, until it makes all your soul feel gracious. Do
+you know, Mr. Howard, I think one could not live with the roses very
+long without becoming beautiful?"
+
+"That was what Plato thought," said the other with a smile, "and
+many other wise people."
+
+"I only wish that they might bloom forever," said the girl, "I
+should try it."
+
+Her companion had been lost in watching her, and now as she paused
+he said: "Sometimes, I have been happy with the roses, too, Miss
+Davis. Here is some music for your flower." She gazed at him
+eagerly, and he recited, half laughingly:
+
+  "Wild rose, wild rose, sing me thy song,
+    Come, let us sing it together!--
+  I hear the silver streamlet call
+    From his home in the dewy heather."
+
+  "Let us sing the wild dance with the mountain breeze,
+    The rush of the mountain rain,
+  And the passionate clasp of the glowing sun
+    When the clouds are rent again."
+
+  "They tell us the time for the song is short,
+    That the wings of joy are fleet;
+  But the soul of the rose has bid me sing
+    That oh, while it lasts 'tis sweet!"
+
+Afterwards Helen stood for a moment in silence; then a happy idea
+came to her mind, and she turned towards the hedge of roses once
+more and threw back her head upon the wind and took a deep breath
+and began singing a very beautiful melody.
+
+As it swelled out Helen's joy increased until her face was alight
+with laughter, and very wonderful to see; she stood with the rose
+tossing in one of her hands, and with the other pressed upon her
+bosom,--"singing of summer in full-throated ease." One might have
+been sure that the roses knew what she was saying, and that all
+about her loved her for her song.
+
+Yet the girl had just heard that the wings of joy are fleet; and she
+was destined to find even then that it was true. For when she
+stopped she turned to her companion with a happy smile and said, "Do
+you know what that is that I was singing?" When he said "No," she
+went on, "It is some wild-rose music that somebody made for me, I
+think. It is in the same book as the 'Water Lily' that I played
+you." And then in a flash the fearful memory of that evening came
+over the girl, and made her start back; for a moment she stood
+gazing at her friend, breathing very hard, and then she lowered her
+eyes and whispered faintly to herself, "And it was not a month ago!"
+
+There was a long silence after that, and when Helen looked up again
+the joy was gone out of her face, and she was the same frightened
+soul as before. Her lips were trembling a little as she said, "Mr.
+Howard, I feel somehow that I have no right to be quite happy, for I
+have done nothing to make myself good." Then, thinking of her
+friend, she added, "I am spoiling your joy in the roses! Can you
+forgive me for that?" As he answered that he could, Helen turned
+away and said, "Let us go into the woods, because I do not like to
+see them any more just now."
+
+They passed beneath the deep shadows of the trees, and Helen led Mr.
+Howard to the spring where she had been with Arthur. She sat down
+upon the seat, and then there was a long silence, the girl gazing
+steadfastly in front of her; she was thinking of the last time she
+had been there, and how it was likely that the pale, wan look must
+still be upon Arthur's face. Mr. Howard perhaps divined her thought,
+for he watched her for a long time without speaking a word, and then
+at last he said gently, as if to divert her attention, "Miss Davis,
+I think that you are not the first one whom the sight of the wild
+rose has made unhappy."
+
+Helen turned and looked at him, and he gazed gravely into her eyes.
+For at least a minute he said nothing; when he went on his voice was
+much changed, and Helen knew not what to expect "Miss Davis," he
+said, "God has given to the wild rose a very wonderful power of
+beauty and joy; and perhaps the man who looks at it has been
+dreaming all his life that somewhere he too might find such precious
+things and have them for his own. When he sees the flower there
+comes to him the fearful realization that with all the effort of his
+soul he has never won the glory which the wild rose wears by
+Heaven's free gift; and that perhaps in his loneliness and weakness
+he has even forgotten all about such high perfection. So there rises
+within him a yearning of all his being to forget his misery and his
+struggling, and to lay all his worship and all his care before the
+flower that is so sweet; he is afraid of his own sin and his own
+baseness, and now suddenly he finds a way of escape,--that he will
+live no longer for himself and his own happiness, but that his joy
+shall be the rose's joy, and all his life the rose's life. Do you
+think, my dear friend, that that might please the flower?"
+
+"Yes," said Helen wonderingly, "it would be beautiful, if one could
+do it."
+
+The other spoke more gently still as he answered her, his voice
+trembling slightly: "And do you not know, Miss Davis, that God has
+made _you_ a rose?"
+
+The girl started visibly; she whispered, "You say that to me, Mr.
+Howard? Why do you say that to _me_?"
+
+And he fixed his dark eyes upon her, his voice very low as he
+responded: "I say it to you,--because I love you."
+
+And Helen shrank back and stared at him; and then as she saw his
+look her own dropped lower and lower and the color mounted to her
+face. Mr. Howard paused for a moment or two and then very gently
+took one of her hands in his, and went on:
+
+"Helen," he said,--"you must let me call you Helen--listen to me a
+while, for I have something to tell you. And since we both of us
+love the roses so much, perhaps it will be beautiful to speak of
+them still. I want to tell you how the man who loves the flower
+needs not to love it for his own sake, but may love it for the
+flower's; how one who really worships beauty, worships that which is
+not himself, and the more he worships it the less he thinks of
+himself. And Helen, you can never know how hard a struggle my life
+has been, just to keep before me something to love,--how lonely a
+struggle it has been, and how sad. I can only tell you that there
+was very little strength left, and very little beauty, and that it
+was all I could do to remember there was such a thing as joy in the
+world, and that I had once possessed it. The music that moved me and
+the music that I made was never your wild-rose singing, but such
+yearning, restless music as you heard in the garden. I cannot tell
+you how much I have loved that little piece that I played then;
+perhaps it is my own sad heart that finds such breathing passion in
+it, but I have sent it out into the darkness of many a night,
+dreaming that somewhere it might waken an echo. For as long as the
+heart beats it never ceases to hunger and to hope, and I felt that
+somewhere in the world there must be left some living creature that
+was beautiful and pure, and that might be loved. So it was that when
+I saw you all my soul was roused within me; you were the fairest of
+all God's creatures that I had ever seen. That was why I was so
+bitter at first, and that was why all my heart went out to you when
+I saw your suffering, and why it is to me the dearest memory of my
+lifetime that I was able to help you. Afterwards when I saw how true
+you were, I was happier than I had ever dared hope to be again; for
+when I went back to my lonely little home, it was no longer to think
+about myself and my sorrow and my dullness, but to think about
+you,--to rejoice in your salvation, and to pray for you in your
+trouble, and to wait for the day when I might see you again. And so
+I knew that something had happened to me for which I had yearned, oh
+so long and so painfully!--that my heart had been taken from me,
+and that I was living in another life; I knew, dear Helen, that I
+loved you. I said to myself long ago, before you got Arthur's
+letter, that I would wait for the chance to say this to you, to take
+your hand in mine and say: Sweet girl, the law of my life has been
+that all my soul I must give to the best thing that ever I know; and
+that thing is you. You must know that I love you, and how I love
+you; that I lay myself at your feet and ask to help you and watch
+over you and strengthen you all that I may. For your life is young
+and there is much to be hoped for in it, and to my own poor self
+there is no longer any duty that I owe. My heart is yours, and I ask
+for nothing but that I may love you. Those were the words that I
+first meant to say to you, Helen; and to ask you if it pleased you
+that I should speak to you thus."
+
+Mr. Howard stopped, and after he had waited a minute, the girl
+raised her eyes to his face. She did not answer him, but she put out
+her other hand and laid it very gently in his own.
+
+There was a long silence before the man continued; at last he said,
+"Dear Helen, that was what I wished to say to you, and no more than
+that, because I believed that I was old, and that my heart was dying
+within me. But oh, when that letter came from Arthur, it was as if I
+heard the voice of my soul crying out to me that my life had just
+begun, that I had still to love. As I came out here into the forest
+with you to-day, my soul was full of a wondrous thought, a thought
+that brought more awe and rapture than words have power to tell; it
+was that this precious maiden was not made to be happy alone, but
+that some day she and all her being would go out to someone, to
+someone who could win her heart, who could love her and worship her
+as she deserved. And my soul cried out to me that _I_ could worship
+you; the thought wakened in me a wilder music than ever I had heard
+in my life before. Here as I kneel before you and hold your hands in
+mine, dear Helen, all my being cries out to you to come to me; for
+in your sorrow your heart has been laid bare to my sight, and I have
+seen only sweetness and truth. To keep it, and serve it, and feed it
+upon thoughts of beauty, would be all that I could care for in life;
+and the thought of winning you for mine, so that all your life I
+might cherish you, is to me a joy which brings tears into my eyes.
+Oh, dearest girl, I must live before you with that prayer, and tell
+me what you will, I must still pray it. Nor do I care how long you
+ask me to wait; my life has now but one desire, to love you in such
+a way as best may please you, to love you as much as you will let
+me. Helen, I have told all myself to you, and here as we gaze into
+each other's eyes our souls are bare to each other. As I say those
+words they bring to me a thought that sweeps away all my
+being,--that perhaps the great sorrow you have known has chastened
+your heart so that you too wish to forget yourself, and worship at
+the shrine of love; I see you trembling, and I think that perhaps it
+may be that, and that it needs only a word of mine to bring your
+soul to me! What that thought is I cannot tell you; but oh, it has
+been the dream of my life, it has been the thing for which I have
+lived, and for which I was dying. If I could win you for mine,
+Helen, for mine--and take you away with me, away from all else but
+love! The thought of it chokes me, and fills me with mighty anguish
+of yearning; and my soul burns for you, and I stretch out my arms to
+you; and I cry out to you that the happiness of my life is in your
+hands--that I love you--oh, that I love you!"
+
+As the man had been speaking he had sunk down before Helen, still
+clasping her hands in his own. A great trembling had seized upon the
+girl and her bosom was rising and falling swiftly; but she mastered
+herself with a desperate effort and looked up, staring at him. "You
+tell me that you love me," she gasped, "you tell me that I am
+perfect! And yet you know what I have done--you have seen all my
+wrongness!"
+
+Her voice broke, and she could not speak a word more; she bowed her
+head and the trembling came again, while the other clasped her hands
+more tightly and bent towards her. "Helen," he said, "I call you to
+a sacred life that forgets all things but love. Precious girl, my
+soul cries out to me that I have a right to you, that you were made
+that I might kneel before you; it cries out to me, 'Speak the word
+and claim her, claim her for your own, for no man could love her
+more than you love her. Tell her that all your life you have waited
+for this sacred hour to come; tell her that you have power and life,
+and that all your soul is hers!' And oh, dear heart, if only you
+could tell me that you might love me, that years of waiting might
+win you, it would be such happiness as I have never dared to dream.
+Tell me, Helen, tell me if it be true!"
+
+And the girl lifted her face to him, and he saw that all her soul
+had leaped into her eyes. Her bosom heaved, and she flung back her
+head and stretched wide her arms, and cried aloud, "Oh, David, I do
+love you!"
+
+He clasped her in his arms and pressed her upon his bosom in an
+ecstasy of joy, and kissed the lips that had spoken the wonderful
+words. "Tell me," he exclaimed, "you will be mine?" And she answered
+him, "Yours!"
+
+For that there was no answer but the clasp of his love. At last he
+whispered, "Oh, Helen, a lifetime of worship can never repay you for
+words like those. My life, my soul, tell me once more, for you
+cannot be mine too utterly; tell me once more that you are mine!"
+
+And suddenly she leaned back her head and looked into his burning
+eyes, and began swiftly, her voice choking: "Oh, listen, listen to
+me!--if it be a pleasure to you to know how you have this heart. I
+tell you, wonderful man that God has given me for mine, that I loved
+you the first word that I heard you speak in the garden. You were
+all that I knew of in life to yearn for--you were a wonderful light
+that had flashed upon me and blinded me; and when I saw my own
+vileness in it I flung myself down on my face, and felt a more
+fearful despair than I had ever dreamed could torture a soul. I
+would have crawled to you upon my knees and groveled in the dirt and
+begged you to have mercy upon me; and afterwards when you lifted me
+up, I could have kissed the ground that you trod. But oh, I knew one
+thing, and it was all that gave me courage ever to look upon you; I
+heard the sacred voice of my womanhood within me, telling me that I
+was not utterly vile, because it was in my ignorance that I had done
+my sin; and that if ever I had known what love really was, I should
+have laughed at the wealth of empires. To win your heart I would
+fling away all that I ever cared for in life--my beauty, my health,
+my happiness--yes, I would fling away my soul! And when you talked
+to me of love and told me that its sacrifice was hard, I--I, little
+girl that I am--could have told you that you were talking as a
+child; and I thought, 'Oh, if only this man, instead of urging me to
+love another and win my peace, if only _he_ were not afraid to trust
+me, if only he were willing that I should love _him!_' And this
+afternoon when I set out with you, do you know what was the real
+thing that lay at the bottom of my heart and made me so happy? I
+said to myself, 'It may take months, and it may take years, but
+there is a crown in life that I may win--that I may win forever!
+And this man shall tell me my duty, and night and day I shall watch
+and pray to do it, and do more; and he will not know why I do it,
+but it shall be for nothing but the love of him; and some day the
+worship that is in his heart shall come to me, tho it find me upon
+my death-bed.' And now you take me and tell me that I have only to
+love you; and you frighten me, and I cannot believe that it is true!
+But oh, you are pilot and master, and you know, and I will believe
+you--only tell me this wonderful thing again that I may be
+sure--that in spite of all my weakness and my helplessness and my
+failures, you love me--and you trust me--and you ask for me. If
+that is really the truth, David,--tell me if that is really the
+truth!"
+
+David whispered to her, "Yes, yes; that is the truth;" and the girl
+went on swiftly, half sobbing with her emotion:
+
+"If you tell me that, what more do I need to know? You are my life
+and my soul, and you call me. For the glory of your wonderful love I
+will leave all the rest of the world behind me, and you may take me
+where you will and when you will, and do with me what you please.
+And oh, you who frightened me so about my wrongness and told me how
+hard it was to be right--do you know how easy it is for me to say
+those words? And do you know how happy I am--because I love you and
+you are mine? David--my David--my heart has been so full,--so wild
+and thirsty,--that now when you tell me that you want all my love,
+it is a word of glory to me, it tells me to be happy as never in my
+life have I been happy before!"
+
+And David bent towards her and kissed her upon her beautiful lips
+and upon her forehead; and he pressed the trembling form closer upon
+him, so that the heaving of her bosom answered to his own. "Listen,
+my love, my precious heart," he whispered, "I will tell you about
+the vision of my life, now when you and I are thus heart to heart.
+Helen, my soul cries out that this union must be perfect, in mind
+and soul and body a blending of all ourselves; so that we may live
+in each other's hearts, and seek each other's perfection; so that we
+may have nothing one from the other, but be one and the same soul in
+the glory of our love. That is such a sacred thought, my life, my
+darling; it makes all my being a song! And as I clasp you to me
+thus, and kiss you, I feel that I have never been so near to God. I
+have worshiped all my days in the great religion of love, and now as
+the glory of it burns in my heart I feel lifted above even us, and
+see that it is because of Him that we love each other so; because He
+is one, our souls may be one, actually and really one, so that each
+loses himself and lives the other's life. I know that I love you so
+that I can fling my whole self away, and give up every thought in
+life but you. As I tell you that, my heart is bursting; oh! drink in
+this passion of mine, and tell me once more that you love me!"
+
+Helen had still been leaning back her head and gazing into his eyes,
+all her soul uplifted in the glory of her emotion; there was a wild
+look upon her face,--and her breath was coming swiftly. For a moment
+more she gazed at him, and then she buried her face on his shoulder,
+crying, "Mine--mine!" For a long time she clung to him, breathing
+the word and quite lost in the joy of it; until at last she leaned
+back her head and gazed up into his eyes once more.
+
+"Oh, David," she said, "what can I answer you? I can only tell you
+one thing, that here I am in your arms, and that I am yours--yours!
+And I love you, oh, before God I love you with all my soul! And I am
+so happy--oh, David, so happy! Dearest heart, can you not see how
+you have won me, so that I cannot live without you, so that anything
+you ask of me you may have? I cannot tell you any more, because I am
+trembling so, and I am so weak; for this has been more than I can
+bear, it is as if all my being were melting within me. But oh, I
+never thought that a human being could be so happy, or that to love
+could be such a world of wonder and joy."
+
+Helen, as she had been speaking, had sunk down exhaustedly, letting
+her head fall forward upon her bosom; she lay quite limp in David's
+arms, while little by little the agitation that had so shaken her
+subsided. In the meantime he was bending over the golden hair that
+was so wild and so beautiful, and there were tears in his eyes. When
+at last the girl was quiet she leaned back her head upon his arm and
+looked up into his face, and he bent over her and pressed a kiss
+upon her mouth. Helen gazed into his eyes and asked him:
+
+"David, do you really know what you have done to this little maiden,
+how fearfully and how madly you have made her yours? I never dreamed
+of what it could mean to love before; when men talked to me of it I
+laughed at them, and the touch of their hands made me shrink. And
+now here I am, and everything about me is changed. Take me away with
+you, David, and keep me--I do not care what becomes of me, if only
+you let me have your heart."
+
+The girl closed her eyes and lay still again for a long time; when
+she began to speak once more it was softly, and very slowly, and
+half as if in a dream: "David," she whispered, "_my_ David, I am
+tired; I think I never felt so helpless. But oh, dear heart, it
+seems a kind of music in my soul,--that I have cast all my sorrow
+away, and that I may be happy again, and be at peace--at peace!" And
+the girl repeated the words to herself more and more gently, until
+her voice had died away altogether; the other was silent for a long
+time, gazing down upon the perfect face, and then at last he kissed
+the trembling eyelids till they opened once again.
+
+"Sweet girl," he whispered, "as God gives me life you shall never be
+sorry for that beautiful faith, or sorry that you have laid bare
+your heart to me." Long afterwards, having watched her without
+speaking, he went on with a smile, "I wonder if you would not be
+happier yet, dearest, if I should tell you all the beautiful things
+that I mean to do with you. For now that you are all mine, I am
+going to carry you far away; you will like that, will you not,
+precious one?"
+
+He saw a little of an old light come back into Helen's eyes as he
+asked that question. "What difference does it make?" she asked,
+gently.
+
+David laughed and went on: "Very well then, you shall have nothing
+to do with it. I shall take you in my arms just as you are. And I
+have a beautiful little house, a very little house among the wildest
+of mountains, and there we shall live this wonderful summer, all
+alone with our wonderful love. And there we shall have nature to
+worship, and beautiful music, and beautiful books to read. You shall
+never have anything more to think about all your life but making
+yourself perfect and beautiful."
+
+The girl had raised herself up and was gazing at him with interest
+as he spoke thus. But he saw a swift frown cross her features at his
+last words, and he stopped and asked her what was the matter.
+Helen's reply was delivered very gravely. "What I was to think
+about," she said, "was settled long ago, and I wish you would not
+say wicked things like that to me."
+
+A moment later she laughed at herself a little; but then, pushing
+back her tangled hair from her forehead, she went on seriously:
+"David, what you tell me of is all that I ever thought of enjoying
+in life; and yet I am so glad that you did not say anything about it
+before! For I want to love you because of _you_, and I want you to
+know that I would follow you and worship you and live in your love
+if there were nothing else in life for you to offer me. And, David,
+do you not see that you are never going to make this poor, restless
+creature happy until you have given her something stern to do,
+something that she may know she is doing just for your love and for
+nothing else, bearing some effort and pain to make you happy?"
+
+The girl had put her hands upon his shoulders, and was gazing
+earnestly into his eyes; he looked at her for a moment, and then
+responded in a low voice: "Helen, dearest, let us not play with
+fearful words, and let us not tempt sorrow. My life has not been all
+happiness, and you will have pain enough to share with me, I fear,
+poor little girl." She thought in a flash of his sickness, and she
+turned quite pale as she looked at him; but then she bent forward
+gently and folded her arms about him, and for a minute more there
+was silence.
+
+There were tears standing in David's eyes when she looked at him
+again. But he smiled in spite of them and kissed her once more, and
+said: "Sweetheart, it is not wrong that we should be happy while we
+can; and come what may, you know, we need not ever cease to love.
+When I hear such noble words from you I think I have a medicine to
+make all sickness light; so be bright and beautiful once more for my
+sake."
+
+Helen smiled and answered that she would, and then her eye chanced
+to light upon the ground, where she saw the wild rose lying
+forgotten; she stooped down and picked it up, and then knelt on the
+grass beside David and pressed it against his bosom while she gazed
+up into his face. "Once," she said, smiling tenderly, "I read a
+pretty little stanza, and if you will love me more for it, I will
+tell it to you.
+
+  "'The sweetest flower that blows
+    I give you as we part,
+  To you, it is a rose,
+    To me, it is a heart.'"
+
+And the man took the flower, and took the hands too, and kissed
+them; then a memory chanced to come to him, and he glanced about him
+on the moss-covered forest floor. He saw some little clover-like
+leaves that all forest-lovers love, and he stooped and picked one of
+the gleaming white blossoms and laid it in Helen's hands. "Dearest,"
+he said, "it is beautiful to make love with the flowers; I chanced
+to think how I once _wrote_ a pretty little poem, and if you will
+love me more for it, I will tell it to _you_." Then while the girl
+gazed at him happily, he went on to add, "This was long before I
+knew you, dear, and when I worshiped the flowers. One of them was
+this little wood sorrel.
+
+  I found it in the forest dark,
+    A blossom of the snow;
+  I read upon its face so fair,
+    No heed of human woe.
+
+  Yet when I sang my passion song
+    And when the sun rose higher,
+  The flower flung wide its heart to me,
+    And lo! its heart was fire."
+
+Helen gazed at him a moment after he finished, and then she took the
+little flower and laid it gently back in the group from which he had
+plucked it; afterwards she looked up and laughed. "I want that poem
+for myself," she said, and drew closer to him, and put her arms
+about him; he gazed into her upraised face, and there was a look of
+wonder in his eyes.
+
+"Oh, precious girl," he said, "I wonder if you know what a vision of
+beauty God has made you! I wonder if you know how fair your eyes
+are, if you know what glory a man may read in your face! Helen, when
+I look upon you I know that God has meant to pay me for all my years
+of pain; and it is all that I can do to think that you are really,
+really mine. Do you not know that to gaze upon you will make me a
+mad, mad creature for years and years and years?"
+
+Helen answered him gravely: "With all my beauty, David, I am really,
+really yours; and I love you so that I do not care anything in the
+world about being beautiful, except because it makes you happy; to
+do that I shall be always just as perfect as I may, thro all those
+mad years and years and years!" Then, as she glanced about her, she
+added: "We must go pretty soon, because it is late; but oh, before
+we do, sweetheart, will you kiss me once more for all those years
+and years and years?"
+
+And David bent over and clasped her in his arms again,
+
+  Sie ist mir ewig, ist mir
+  immer, Erb und Eigen, ein und all!
+
+END OF PART I
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+  "When summer gathers up her robes of glory,
+  And like a dream of beauty glides away."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+  "Across the hills and far away,
+    Beyond their utmost purple rim,
+  And deep into the dying day
+    The happy princess follow'd him."
+
+It was several months after Helen's marriage. The scene was a little
+lake, in one of the wildest parts of the Adirondacks, surrounded by
+tall mountains which converted it into a basin in the land, and
+walled in by a dense growth about the shores, which added still more
+to its appearance of seclusion. In only one place was the scenery
+more open, where there was a little vale between two of the hills,
+and where a mountain torrent came rushing down the steep incline.
+There the underbrush had been cleared away, and beneath the great
+forest trees a house constructed, a little cabin built of logs, and
+in harmony with the rest of the scene.
+
+It was only large enough for two or three rooms downstairs, and as
+many above, and all were furnished in the plainest way. About the
+main room there were shelves of books, and a piano and a well-chosen
+music-library. It was the little home which for a dozen years or
+more David Howard had occupied alone, and where he and Helen had
+spent the golden summer of their love.
+
+It was late in the fall then, and the mountains were robed in
+scarlet and orange. Helen was standing upon the little piazza, a
+shawl flung about her shoulders, because it was yet early in the
+morning. She was talking to her father, who had been paying them a
+few days' visit, and was taking a last look about him at the fresh
+morning scene before it was time for him to begin his long homeward
+journey.
+
+Helen was clad in a simple dress, and with the prettiest of white
+sun bonnets tied upon her head; she was browned by the sun, and
+looked a picture of health and happiness as she held her father's
+arm in hers. "And then you are quite sure that you are happy?" he
+was saying, as he looked at her radiant face.
+
+She echoed the word--"Happy?" and then she stretched out her arms
+and took a deep breath and echoed it again. "I am so happy," she
+laughed, "I never know what to do! You did not stay long enough for
+me to tell you, Daddy!" She paused for a moment, and then went on,
+"I think there never was anybody in the world so full of joy. For
+this is such a beautiful little home, you know, and we live such a
+beautiful life; and oh, we love each other so that the days seem to
+fly by like the wind! I never even have time to think how happy I
+am."
+
+"Your husband really loves you as much as he ought," said the
+father, gazing at her tenderly.
+
+"I think God never put on earth another such man as David," replied,
+the girl, with sudden gravity. "He is so noble, and so unselfish in
+every little thing; I see it in his eyes every instant that all his
+life is lived for nothing but to win my love. And it just draws the
+heart right out of me, Daddy, so that I could live on my knees
+before him, just trying to tell him how much I love him. I cannot
+ever love him enough; but it grows--it grows like great music, and
+every day my heart is more full!"
+
+Helen was standing with her head thrown back, gazing ahead of her;
+then she turned and laughed, and put her arm about her father again,
+saying: "Haven't you just seen what a beautiful life we live? And
+oh, Daddy, most of the time I am afraid because I married David,
+when I see how much he knows. Just think of it,--he has lived all
+alone ever since he was young, and done nothing but read and study.
+Now he brings all those treasures to me, to make me happy with, and
+he frightens me." She stopped for a moment and then continued
+earnestly: "I have to be able to go with him everywhere, you know, I
+can't expect him to stay back all his life for me; and that makes me
+work very hard. David says that there is one duty in the world
+higher than love, and that is the duty of labor,--that no soul in
+the world can be right for one instant if it is standing still and
+is satisfied, even with the soul it loves. He told me that before he
+married me, but at first when we came up here he was so impatient
+that he quite frightened me; but now I have learned to understand it
+all, and we are wonderfully one in everything. Daddy, dear, isn't it
+a beautiful way to live, to be always striving, and having something
+high and sacred in one's mind? And to make all of one's life from
+one's own heart, and not to be dependent upon anything else? David
+and I live away off here in the mountains, and we never have
+anything of what other people call comforts and enjoyments--we have
+nothing but a few books and a little music, and Nature, and our own
+love; and we are so wonderfully happy with just those that nothing
+else in the world could make any difference, certainly nothing that
+money could buy us."
+
+"I was worried when you wrote me that you did not even have a
+servant," said Mr. Davis.
+
+"It isn't any trouble," laughed Helen. (David's man lived in the
+village half a mile away and came over every day to bring what was
+necessary.) "This is such a tiny little cottage, and David and I are
+very enthusiastic people, and we want to be able to make lots of
+noise and do just as we please. We have so much music, you know,
+Daddy, and of course David is quite a wild man when he gets excited
+with music."
+
+Helen stopped and looked at her father and laughed; then she rattled
+merrily on: "We are both of us just two children, for David is so
+much in love with me that it makes him as young as I am; and we are
+away off from everything, and so we can be as happy with each other
+as we choose. We have this little lake all to ourselves, you know;
+it's getting cold now, and pretty soon we'll have to fly away to the
+south, but all this summer long we used to get up in the morning in
+time to see the sun rise, and to have a wonderful swim. And then we
+have so many things to read and study; and David talks to me, and
+tells me all that he knows; and besides all that we have to tell
+each other how much we love each other, which takes a fearful amount
+of time. It seems that neither of us can ever quite realize the
+glory of it, and when we think of it, it is a wonder that nobody
+ever told. Is not that a beautiful way to live, Daddy dear, and to
+love?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Davis, "that is a very beautiful way indeed. And I
+think that my little girl has all that I could wish her to have."
+
+"Oh, there is no need to tell me that!" laughed Helen. "All I wish
+is that I might really be like David and be worth his love; I never
+think about anything else all day." The girl stood for a moment
+gazing at her father, and then, looking more serious, she put her
+arm about him and whispered softly: "And oh, Daddy, it is too
+wonderful to talk about, but I ought to tell you; for some day by
+and by God is going to send us a new, oh, a new, new wonder!" And
+Helen blushed beautifully as her father gazed into her eyes.
+
+He took her hand tenderly in his own, and the two stood for some
+time in silence. When it was broken it was by the rattling of the
+wagon which had come to take Mr. Davis away.
+
+David came out then to bid his guest good-by, and the three stood
+for a few minutes conversing. It was not very difficult for, Helen
+to take leave of her father, for she would see him, so she said, in
+a week or two more. She stood waving her hands to him, until the
+bumping wagon was lost to sight in the woods, and then she turned
+and took David's hand in hers and gazed across the water at the
+gorgeous-colored mountains. The lake was sparkling in the sunlight,
+and the sky was bright and clear, but Helen's thoughts took a
+different turn from that.
+
+All summer long she had been rejoicing in the glory of the landscape
+about her, in the glowing fern and the wild-flowers underfoot, and
+in the boundless canopy of green above, with its unresting
+song-birds; now there were only the shrill cries of a pair of
+blue-jays to be heard, and every puff of wind that came brought down
+a shower of rustling leaves to the already thickly-covered ground.
+
+"Is it not sad, David," the girl said, "to think how the beauty
+should all be going?"
+
+David did not answer her for a moment. "When I think of it," he said
+at last, "it brings me not so much sadness as a strange feeling of
+mystery. Only stop, and think of what that vanished springtime
+meant--think that it was a presence of living, feeling, growing
+creatures,--infinite, unthinkable masses of them, robing all the
+world; and that now the life and the glory of it all is suddenly
+gone back into nothingness, that it was all but a fleeting vision, a
+phantom presence on the earth. I never realize that without coming
+to think of all the other things of life, and that they too are no
+more real than the springtime flowers; and so it makes me feel as if
+I were walking upon air, and living in a dream."
+
+Helen was leaning against a post of the piazza, her eyes fixed upon
+David intently. "Does that not give a new meaning to the vanished
+spring-time?" he asked her; and she replied in a wondering whisper,
+"Yes," and then gazed at him for a long time.
+
+"David," she said at last, "it is fearful to think of a thing like
+that. What does it all mean? What causes it?"
+
+"Men have been asking that helpless question since the dawn of
+time," he answered, "we only know what we see, this whirling and
+weaving of shadows, with its sacred facts of beauty and love."
+
+Helen looked at him thoughtfully a moment, and then, recollecting
+something she had heard from her father, she said, "But, David, if
+God be a mystery like that, how can there be any religion?"
+
+"What we may fancy God to be makes no difference," he answered.
+"That which we know is always the same, we have always the love and
+always the beauty. All men's religion is but the assertion that the
+source of these sacred things must be infinitely sacred, and that
+whatever may happen to us, that source can suffer no harm; that we
+live by a power stronger than ourselves, and that has no need of
+us."
+
+Helen was looking at her husband anxiously; then suddenly she asked
+him, "But tell me then, David; you do not believe in heaven? You do
+not believe that our souls are immortal?" As he answered her in the
+negative she gave a slight start, and knitted her brows; and after
+another pause she demanded, "You do not believe in revealed religion
+then?"
+
+David could not help smiling, recognizing the voice of his clerical
+father-in-law; when he answered, however, he was serious again.
+"Some day, perhaps, dear Helen," he said, "I will tell you all about
+what I think as to such things. But very few of the world's real
+thinkers believe in revealed religions any more--they have come to
+see them simply as guesses of humanity at God's great sacred
+mystery, and to believe that God's way of revealing Himself to men
+is through the forms of life itself. As to the question of
+immortality that you speak of, I have always felt that death is a
+sign of the fact that God is infinite and perfect, and that we are
+but shadows in his sight; that we live by a power that is not our
+own, and seek for beauty that is not our own, and that each instant
+of our lives is a free gift which we can only repay by thankfulness
+and worship."
+
+He paused for a moment, and the girl, who had still been gazing at
+him thoughtfully, went on, "Father used to talk about those things
+to me, David, and he showed me how the life of men is all spent in
+suffering and struggling, and that therefore faith teaches us---"
+
+"Yes, dearest," the other put in, "I know all that you are going to
+say; I have read these arguments very often, you know. But suppose
+that I were to tell you that I think suffering and struggling is the
+very essence of the soul, and that what faith teaches us is that the
+suffering and struggling are sacred, and not in the least that they
+are some day to be made as nothing? Dearest, if it is true that the
+soul makes this life what it is, a life of restless seeking for an
+infinite, would it not make the same life anywhere else? Do you
+remember reading with me Emerson's poem about Uriel, the seraph who
+sang before God's throne,--how even that could not please him, and
+how he left it to plunge into the struggle of things imperfect; and
+how ever after the rest of the seraphim were afraid of Uriel? Do you
+think, dearest, that this life of love and labor that you and I live
+our own selves needs anything else to justify it? The life that I
+lived all alone was much harder and more full of pain than this, but
+I never thought that it needed any rewarding."
+
+David stopped and stood gazing ahead of him thoughtfully; when he
+continued his voice was lower and more solemn. "These things are
+almost too sacred to talk of, Helen," he said; "but there is one
+doubt that I have known about this, one thing that has made me
+wonder if there ought not to be another world after all. I never
+sympathized with any man's longing for heaven, but I can understand
+how a man might be haunted by some fearful baseness of his own
+self,--something which long years of effort had taught him he could
+not ever expiate by the strength of his own heart,--and how he could
+pray that there might be some place where rightness might be won at
+last, cost what it would."
+
+The man's tone had been so strange as he spoke that it caused Helen
+to start; suddenly she came closer to him and put her hands upon his
+shoulders and gazed into his eyes. "David," she whispered, "listen
+to me a moment."
+
+"Yes, dear," he said, "what is it?"
+
+"Was it because of yourself that you said those words?"
+
+He was silent for a moment, gazing into her anxious eyes; then he
+bowed his head and said in a faint voice, "Yes, dear, it was because
+of myself."
+
+And the girl, becoming suddenly very serious, went on, "Do you
+remember, David, a long time ago--the time that I was leaving Aunt
+Polly's--that you told me how you knew what it was to have
+something very terrible on one's conscience? I have not ever said
+anything about that, but I have never forgotten it. Was it that that
+you thought of then?"
+
+"Yes, dear, it was that," answered the other, trembling slightly.
+
+Helen stooped down upon her knees and put her arms about him, gazing
+up pleadingly into his face. "Dearest David," she whispered, "is it
+right to refuse to tell me about that sorrow?"
+
+There was a long silence, after which the man replied slowly, "I
+have not ever refused to tell you, sweetheart; it would be very
+fearful to tell, but I have not any secrets from you; and if you
+wished it, you should know. But, dear, it was long, long ago, and
+nothing can ever change it now. It would only make us sad to know
+it, so why should we talk of it?"
+
+He stopped, and Helen gazed long and earnestly into his face.
+"David," she said, "it is not possible for me to imagine you ever
+doing anything wrong, you are so good."
+
+"Perhaps," said David, "it is because you are so good yourself." But
+Helen interrupted him at that with a quick rejoinder: "Do you forget
+that I too have a sorrow upon my conscience?" Afterwards, as she saw
+that the eager remark caused the other to smile in spite of himself,
+she checked him gravely with the words, "Have you really forgotten
+so soon? Do you suppose I do not ever think now of how I treated
+poor Arthur, and how I drove away from me the best friend of my
+girlhood? He wrote me that he would think of me no more, but, David,
+sometimes I wonder if it were not just an angry boast, and if he
+might not yet be lonely and wretched, somewhere in this great cold
+world where I cannot ever find him or help him."
+
+The girl paused; David was regarding her earnestly, and for a long
+time neither of them spoke. Then suddenly the man bent down, and
+pressed a kiss upon her forehead. "Let us only love each other,
+dear," he whispered, "and try to keep as right as we can while the
+time is given us."
+
+There was a long silence after that while the two sat gazing out
+across the blue lake; when Helen spoke again it was to say, "Some
+day you must tell me all about it, David, because I can help you;
+but let us not talk about these dreadful things now." She stopped
+again, and afterwards went on thoughtfully, "I was thinking still of
+what you said about immortality, and how very strange it is to think
+of ceasing to be. Might it not be, David, that heaven is a place not
+of reward, but of the same ceaseless effort as you spoke of?"
+
+"Ah, yes," said the other, "that is the thought of 'the wages of
+going on.' And of course, dear, we would all like those wages; there
+is no thought that tempts me so much as the possibility of being
+able to continue the great race forever; but I don't see how we have
+the least right to demand it, or that the facts give us the least
+reason to suppose that we will get it. It seems to me simply a
+fantastic and arbitrary fancy; the re-creating of a worn-out life in
+that way. I do not think, dearest, that I am in the least justified
+in claiming an eternity of vision because God gives me an hour; and
+when I ask Him the question in my own heart I learn simply that I am
+a wretched, sodden creature that I do not crowd that hour with all
+infinity and go quite mad at the sight of the beauty that He flings
+wide before me."
+
+Helen did not reply for a while, and then she asked: "And you think,
+David, that our life justifies itself no matter how much suffering
+may be in it?"
+
+"I think, dearest," was his reply, "that the soul's life is
+struggle, and that the soul's life is sacred; and that to be right,
+to struggle to be right, is not only life's purpose, but also life's
+reward; and that each instant of such righteousness is its own
+warrant, tho the man be swept out of existence in the next." Then
+David stopped, and when he went on it was in a lower voice. "Dear
+Helen," he said, "after I have told you what I feel I deserve in
+life, you can understand my not wishing to talk lightly about such
+things as suffering. Just now, as I sit here at my ease, and in fact
+all through my poor life, I have felt about such sacred words as
+duty and righteousness that it would be just as well if they did not
+ever pass my lips. But there have come to me one or two times, dear,
+when I dared a little of the labor of things, and drank a drop or
+two of the wine of the spirit; and those times have lived to haunt
+me and make me at least not a happy man in my unearned ease. There
+come to me still just once in a while hours when I get sight of the
+gleam, hours that make me loathe all that in my hours of comfort I
+loved; and there comes over me then a kind of Titanic rage, that I
+should go down a beaten soul because I have not the iron strength of
+will to lash my own self to life, and tear out of my own heart a
+little of what power is in it. At such times, Helen, I find just
+this one wish in my mind,--that God would send to me, cost what it
+might, some of the fearful experience that rouses a man's soul
+within him, and makes him live his life in spite of all his dullness
+and his fear."
+
+David had not finished, but he halted, because he saw a strange look
+upon the girl's face. She did not answer him at once, but sat gazing
+at him; and then she said in a very grave voice, "David, I do not
+like to hear such words as that from you."
+
+"What words, dearest?"
+
+"Do you mean actually that it sometimes seems to you wrong to live
+happily with me as you have?"
+
+David laid his hand quietly upon hers, watching for a minute her
+anxious countenance. Then he said in a low voice: "You ought not to
+ask me about such things, dear, or blame me for them. Sometimes I
+have to face the very cruel thought that I ought not ever to have
+linked my fate to one so sweet and gentle as you, because what I
+ought to be doing in the world to win a right conscience is
+something so hard and so stern that it would mean that I could never
+be really happy all my life."
+
+David was about to go on, but he stopped again because of Helen's
+look of displeasure. "David," she whispered, "that is the most
+unloving thing that I have ever heard from you!"
+
+"And you must blame me, dear, because of it?" he asked.
+
+"I suppose," Helen answered, "that you would misunderstand me as
+long as I chose to let you. Do you not suppose that I too have a
+conscience,--do you suppose that I want any happiness it is wrong
+for us to take, or that I would not dare to go anywhere that your
+duty took you? And do you suppose that anything could be so painful
+to me as to know that you do not trust me, that you are afraid to
+live your life, and do what is your duty, before me?"
+
+David bent down suddenly and pressed a kiss upon the girl's
+forehead. "Precious little heart," he whispered, "those words are
+very beautiful."
+
+"I did not say them because they were beautiful," answered Helen
+gravely; "I said them because I meant them, and because I wanted you
+to take them in earnest. I want to know what it is that you and I
+ought to be doing, instead of enjoying our lives; and after you have
+told me what it is I can tell you one thing--that I shall not be
+happy again in my life until it is done."
+
+David watched her thoughtfully a while before he answered, because
+he saw that she was very much in earnest. Then he said sadly,
+"Dearest Helen, perhaps the reason that I have never been able all
+through my life to satisfy my soul is the pitiful fact that I have
+not the strength to dare any of the work of other men; I have had
+always to chafe under the fact that I must choose between nourishing
+my poor body, or ceasing to live. I have learned that all my
+power--and more too, as it sometimes seemed,--was needed to bear
+bravely the dreadful trials that God has sent to me."
+
+Helen paled slightly; she felt his hand trembling upon hers, and she
+remembered his illness at her aunt's, about which she had never had
+the courage to speak to him. "And so, dear heart," he went on
+slowly, "let us only be sure that we are keeping our lives pure and
+strong, that we are living in the presence of high thoughts and
+keeping the mastery of ourselves, and saying and really meaning that
+we live for something unselfish; so that if duty and danger come, we
+shall not prove cowards, and if suffering comes we should not give
+way and lose our faith. Does that please you, dear Helen?"
+
+The girl pressed his hand silently in hers. After a while he went on
+still more solemnly: "Some time," he said, "I meant to talk to you
+about just that, dearest, to tell you how stern and how watchful we
+ought to be. It is very sad to me to see what happens when the great
+and fearful realities of life disclose themselves to good and kind
+people who have been living without any thought of such things. I
+feel that it is very wrong to live so, that if we wished to be right
+we would hold the high truths before us, no matter how much labor it
+cost."
+
+"What truths do you mean?" asked Helen earnestly; and he answered
+her: "For one, the very fearful fact of which I have just been
+talking--that you and I are two bubbles that meet for an instant
+upon the whirling stream of time. Suppose, sweetheart, that I were
+to tell you that I do not think you and I would be living our lives
+truly, until we were quite sure that we could bear to be parted
+forever without losing our faith in God's righteousness?"
+
+Helen turned quite white, and clutched the other's hands in hers;
+she had not once thought of actually applying what he had said to
+her. "David! David!" she cried, "No!"
+
+The man smiled gently as he brushed back the hair from her forehead
+and gazed into her eyes. "And when you asked for sternness, dear,"
+he said, "was it that you did not know what the word meant? Life is
+real, dear Helen, and the effort it demands is real effort."
+
+The girl did not half hear these last words; she was still staring
+at her husband. "Listen to me, David," she said at last, still
+holding his hand tightly in hers, her voice almost a whisper; "I
+could bear anything for you, David, I know that I could bear
+_anything_; I could really die for you, I say that with all my
+soul,--that was what I was thinking of when you spoke of death. But
+David, if you were to be taken from me,--if you were to be taken
+from me--" and she stopped, unable to find a word more.
+
+"Perhaps it will be just as well not to tell me, dear heart," he
+said to her, gently.
+
+"David," she went on more strenuously yet, "listen to me--you must
+not ever ask me to think of that! Do you hear me? For, oh, it cannot
+be true, it cannot be true, David, that you could be taken from me
+forever! What would I have left to live for?"
+
+"Would you not have the great wonderful God?" asked the other
+gently--"the God who made me and all that was lovable in me, and
+made you, and would demand that you worship him?" But Helen only
+shook her head once more and answered, "It could not be true,
+David,--no, no!" Then she added in a faint voice, "What would be the
+use of my having lived?"
+
+The man bent forward and kissed her again, and kissed away a little
+of the frightened, anxious look upon her face. "My dear," he said
+with a gentle smile, "perhaps I was wrong to trouble you with such
+fearful things after all. Let me tell you instead a thought that
+once came to my mind, and that has stayed there as the one I should
+like to call the most beautiful of all my life; it may help to
+answer that question of yours about the use of having lived. Men
+love life so much, Helen dear, that they cannot ever have enough of
+it, and to keep it and build it up they make what we call the arts;
+this thought of mine is about one of them, about music, the art that
+you and I love most. For all the others have been derived from
+things external, but music was made out of nothing, and exists but
+for its one great purpose, and therefore is the most spiritual of
+all of them. I like to say that it is time made beautiful, and so a
+shadow picture of the soul; it is this, because it can picture
+different degrees of speed and of power, because it can breathe and
+throb, can sweep and soar, can yearn and pray,--because, in short,
+everything that happens in the heart can happen in music, so that we
+may lose ourselves in it and actually live its life, or so that a
+great genius can not merely tell us about himself, but can make all
+the best hours of his soul actually a part of our own. This thought
+that I said was beautiful came to me from noticing how perfectly the
+art was one with that which it represented; so that we may say not
+only that music is life, but that life is music. Music exists
+because it is beautiful, dear Helen, and because it brings an
+instant of the joy of beauty to our hearts, and for no other reason
+whatever; it may be music of happiness or of sorrow, of achievement
+or only of hope, but so long as it is beautiful it is right, and it
+makes no difference, either, that it cost much labor of men, or that
+when it is gone it is gone forever. And dearest, suppose that the
+music not only was beautiful, but knew that it was beautiful; that
+it was not only the motion of the air, but also the joy of our
+hearts; might it not then be its own excuse, just one strain of it
+that rose in the darkness, and quivered and died away again
+forever?"
+
+When David had spoken thus he stopped and sat still for a while,
+gazing at his wife; then seeing the anxious look still in possession
+of her face, he rose suddenly by way of ending their talk.
+"Dearest," he said, smiling, "it is wrong of me, perhaps, to worry
+you about such very fearful things as those; let us go in, and find
+something to do that is useful, and not trouble ourselves with them
+any more."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+  "O Freude, habe Acht!
+    Sprich leise,
+  Dass nicht der Schmerz erwacht!"
+
+It was late on the afternoon of the day that Helen's father had left
+for home, and David was going into the village with some letters to
+mail. Helen was not feeling very well herself and could not go, but
+she insisted upon his going, for she watched over his exercise and
+other matters of health with scrupulous care. She had wrapped him up
+in a heavy overcoat, and was kneeling beside his chair with her arms
+about him.
+
+"Tell me, dear," she asked him, for the third or fourth time, "are
+you sure this will be enough to keep you warm?--for the nights are
+so very cold, you know; I do not like you to come back alone
+anyway."
+
+"I don't think you would be much of a protection against danger,"
+laughed David.
+
+"But it will be dark when you get back, dear."
+
+"It will only be about dusk," was the reply; "I don't mind that."
+
+Helen gazed at him wistfully for a minute, and then she went on: "Do
+you not know what is the matter with me, David? You frightened me
+to-day, and I cannot forget what you said. Each time that it comes
+to my mind it makes me shudder. Why should you say such fearful
+things to me?"
+
+"I am very sorry," said the other, gently.
+
+"You simply must not talk to me so!" cried the girl; "if you do you
+will make me so that I cannot bear to leave you for an instant. For
+those thoughts make my love for you simply desperate, David; I cry
+out to myself that I never have loved you enough, never told you
+enough!" And then she added pleadingly, "But oh, you know that I
+love you, do you not, dear? Tell me."
+
+"Yes, I know it," said the other gently, taking her in his arms and
+kissing her.
+
+"Come back soon," Helen went on, "and I will tell you once more how
+much I do; and then we can be happy again, and I won't be afraid any
+more. Please let me be happy, won't you, David?"
+
+"Yes, love, I will," said the man with a smile. "I do not think that
+I was wise ever to trouble you."
+
+Helen was silent for a while, then as a sudden thought occurred to
+her she added: "David, I meant to tell you something--do you know if
+those horrible thoughts keep haunting me, it is just this that they
+will make me do; you said that God was very good, and so I was
+thinking that I would show him how very much I love you, how I could
+really never get along without you, and how I care for nothing else
+in the world. It seems to me to be such a little thing, that we
+should only just want to love; and truly, that is all I do want,--I
+would not mind anything else in the world,--I would go away from
+this little house and live in any poor place, and do all the work,
+and never care about anything else at all, if I just might have you.
+That is really true, David, and I wish that you would know it, and
+that God would know it, and not expect me to think of such dreadful
+things as you talk of."
+
+As David gazed into her deep, earnest eyes he pressed her to him
+with a sudden burst of emotion. "You have me now, dearest," he
+whispered, "and oh, I shall trust the God who gave me this precious
+heart!"--He kissed her once more in fervent love, and kissed her
+again and again until the clouds had left her face. She leaned back
+and gazed at him, and was radiant with delight again. "Oh--oh--oh!"
+she cried. "David, it only makes me more full of wonder at the real
+truth! For it is the truth, David, it is the truth--that you are all
+mine! It is so wonderful, and it makes me so happy,--I seem to lose
+myself more in the thought every day!"
+
+"You can never lose yourself too much, little sweetheart," David
+whispered; "let us trust to love, and let it grow all that it will.
+Helen, I never knew what it was to live until I met you,--never knew
+how life could be so full and rich and happy. And never, never will
+I be able to tell you how much I love you, dearest soul."
+
+"Oh, but I believe you without being told!" she said, laughing. "Do
+you know, I could make myself quite mad just with saying over to
+myself that you love me all that I could ever wish you to love me,
+all that I could imagine you loving me! Isn't that true, David?"
+
+"Yes, that is true," the man replied.
+
+"But you don't know what a wonderful imagination I have," laughed
+the girl, "and how hungry for your love I am." And she clasped him
+to her passionately and cried, "David, you can make me too happy to
+live with that thought! I shall have to think about it all the time
+that you are gone, and when you come back I shall be so wonderfully
+excited,--oh--oh, David!"
+
+Then she laughed eagerly and sprang up. "You must not stay any
+longer," she exclaimed, "because it is getting late; only hurry
+back, because I can do nothing but wait for you." And so she led him
+to the door, and kissed him again, and then watched him as he
+started up the road. He turned and looked at her, as she leaned
+against the railing of the porch, with the glory of the sunset
+falling upon her hair; she made a radiant picture, for her cheeks
+were still flushed, and her bosom still heaving with the glory of
+the thought she had promised to keep. There was so much of her love
+in the look which she kept upon David that it took some resolution
+to go on and leave her.
+
+As for Helen, she watched him until he had quite disappeared in the
+forest, after which she turned and gazed across the lake at the gold
+and crimson mountains. But all the time she was still thinking the
+thought of David's love; the wonder of it was still upon her face,
+and it seemed to lift her form; until at last she stretched wide her
+arms, and leaned back her head, and drank a deep draft of the
+evening air, whispering aloud, "Oh, I do not dare to be as happy as
+I can!" And she clasped her arms upon her bosom and laughed a wild
+laugh of joy.
+
+Later on, because it was cold, she turned and went into the house,
+singing a song to herself as she moved. As she went to the piano and
+sat down she saw upon the rack the little springtime song of Grieg's
+that was the first thing she had ever heard upon David's violin; she
+played a few bars of it to herself, and then she stopped and sat
+still, lost in the memory which it brought to her mind of the night
+when she had sat at the window and listened to it, just after seeing
+Arthur for the last time. "And to think that it was only four or
+five months ago!" she whispered to herself. "And how wretched I
+was!"
+
+"I do not believe I could ever be so unhappy again," she went on
+after a while, "I know that I could not, while I have David!" after
+which her thoughts came back into the old, old course of joy. When
+she looked at the music again the memory of her grief was gone, and
+she read in it all of her own love-glory. She played it through
+again, and afterwards sat quite still, until the twilight had begun
+to gather in the room.
+
+Helen then rose and lit the lamp, and the fire in the open
+fire-place; she glanced at the clock and saw that more than a
+quarter of an hour had passed, and she said to herself that it could
+not be more than that time again before David was back.
+
+"I should go out and meet him if I were feeling quite strong," she
+added as she went to the door and looked out; then she exclaimed
+suddenly: "But oh, I know how I can please him better!" And the girl
+went to the table where some of her books were lying, and sat down
+and began very diligently studying, glancing every half minute at
+the clock and at the door. "I shall be too busy even to hear him!"
+she said, with a sudden burst of glee; and quite delighted with the
+effect that would produce she listened eagerly every time she
+fancied she heard a step, and then fixed her eyes upon the book, and
+put on a look of most complete absorption.
+
+Unfortunately for Helen's plan, however, each time it proved to be a
+false alarm; and so the fifteen minutes passed completely, and then
+five, and five again. The girl had quite given up studying by that
+time, and was gazing at the clock, and listening to its ticking, and
+wondering very much indeed. At last when more than three-quarters of
+an hour had passed since David had left, she got up and went to the
+door once more to listen; as she did not hear anything she went out
+on the piazza, and finally to the road. All about her was veiled in
+shadow, which her eyes strove in vain to pierce; and so growing
+still more impatient she raised her voice and called, "David,
+David!" and then stood and listened to the rustling of the leaves
+and the faint lapping of the water on the shore.
+
+"That is very strange," Helen thought, growing very anxious indeed;
+"it is fearfully strange! What in the world can have happened?" And
+she called again, with no more result that before; until with a
+sudden resolution she turned and passed quickly into the house, and
+flinging a wrap about her, came out and started down the road.
+Occasionally she raised her voice and shouted David's name, but
+still she got no reply, and her anxiety soon changed into alarm, and
+she was hurrying along, almost in a run. In this way she climbed the
+long ascent which the road made from the lake shore; and when she
+had reached the top of it she gathered her breath and shouted once
+more, louder and more excitedly than ever.
+
+This time she heard the expected reply, and found that David was
+only a few rods ahead of her. "What is the matter?" she called to
+him, and as he answered that it was nothing, but to come to him, she
+ran on more alarmed than ever.
+
+There was just light enough for her to see that David was bending
+down; and then as she got very near she saw that on the ground in
+front of him was lying a dark, shadowy form. As Helen cried out
+again to know what was the matter, her husband said, "Do not be
+frightened, dear; it is only some poor woman that I have found here
+by the roadside."
+
+"A woman!" the girl echoed in wonder, at the same time giving a gasp
+of relief at the discovery that her husband was not in trouble.
+"Where in the world can she have come from, David?"
+
+"I do not know," he answered, "but she probably wandered off the
+main road. It is some poor, wretched creature, Helen; she has been
+drinking, and is quite helpless."
+
+And Helen stood still in horror, while David arose and came to her.
+"You are out of breath, dear," he exclaimed, "why did you come so
+fast?"
+
+"Oh, I was so frightened!" the girl panted. "I cannot tell you,
+David, what happens in my heart whenever I think of your coming to
+any harm. It was dreadful, for I knew something serious must be the
+matter."
+
+David put his arm about her and kissed her to quiet her fears; then
+he said, "You ought not to have come out, dear; but be calm now, for
+there is nothing to worry you, only we must take care of this poor
+woman. It is such a sad sight, Helen; I wish that you had not come
+here."
+
+"What were you going to do?" asked the girl, forgetting herself
+quickly in her sympathy.
+
+"I meant to come down and tell you," was David's reply; "and then go
+back to town and get someone to come and take her away."
+
+"But, David, you can never get back over that rough road in the
+darkness!" exclaimed Helen in alarm; "it is too far for you to walk,
+even in the daytime--I will not let you do it, you must not!"
+
+"But dear, this poor creature cannot be left here; it will be a
+bitter cold night, and she might die."
+
+Helen was silent for a moment in thought, and then she said in a
+low, trembling voice: "David, there is only one thing to do."
+
+"What is that, dear?" asked the other.
+
+"We will have to take her home with us."
+
+"Do you know what you are saying?" asked the other with a start;
+"that would be a fearful thing to do, Helen."
+
+"I cannot help it," she replied, "it is the only thing. And it would
+be wicked not to be willing to do that, because she is a woman."
+
+"She is in a fearful way, dear," said the other, hesitatingly; "and
+to ask you to take care of her--"
+
+"I would do anything sooner than let you take that walk in such
+darkness as this!" was the girl's reply; and with that statement she
+silenced all of his objections.
+
+And so at last David pressed her hand, and whispered, "Very well,
+dear, God will bless you for it." Then for a while the two stood in
+silence, until Helen asked, "Do you think that we can carry her,
+poor creature?"
+
+"We may try it," the other replied; and Helen went and knelt by the
+prostrate figure. The woman was muttering to herself, but she seemed
+to be quite dazed, and not to know what was going on about her.
+Helen did not hesitate any longer, but bent over and strove to lift
+her; the woman was fortunately of a slight build, and seemed to be
+very thin, so that with David's help it was easy to raise her to her
+feet. It was a fearful task none the less, for the poor wretch was
+foul with the mud in which she had been lying, and her wet hair was
+streaming over her shoulders; as Helen strove to lift her up the
+head sunk over upon her, but the girl bit her lips together grimly.
+She put her arm about the woman's waist, and David did the same on
+the other side, and so the three started, stumbling slowly along in
+the darkness.
+
+"Are you sure that it is not too much for you?" David asked; "we can
+stop whenever you like, Helen."
+
+"No, let us go on," the girl said; "she has almost no weight, and we
+must not leave her out here in the cold. Her hands are almost frozen
+now."
+
+They soon made their way on down to where the lights of the little
+cottage shone through the trees. David could not but shrink back as
+he thought of taking their wretched burden into their little home,
+but he heard the woman groan feebly, and he was ashamed of his
+thought. Nothing more was said until they had climbed the steps, not
+without difficulty, and had deposited their burden upon the floor of
+the sitting room; after which David rose and sank back into a chair,
+for the strain had been a heavy one for him.
+
+Helen also sprang up as she gazed at the figure; the woman was foul
+with every misery that disease and sin can bring upon a human
+creature, her clothing torn to shreds and her face swollen and
+stained. She was half delirious, and clawing about her with her
+shrunken, quivering hands, so that Helen exclaimed in horror: "Oh
+God, that is the most dreadful sight I have ever seen in my life!"
+
+"Come away," said the other, raising himself from the chair; "it is
+not right that you should look at such things."
+
+But with Helen it was only a moment before her pity had overcome
+every other emotion; she knelt down by the stranger and took one of
+the cold hands and began chafing it. "Poor, poor woman!" she
+exclaimed; "oh, what misery you must have suffered! David, what can
+a woman do to be punished like this? It is fearful!"
+
+It was a strange picture which the two made at that moment, the
+woman in her cruel misery, and the girl in her pure and noble
+beauty. But Helen had no more thought of shrinking, for all her soul
+had gone out to the unfortunate stranger, and she kept on trying to
+bring her back to consciousness. "Oh, David," she said, "what can we
+do to help her? It is too much that any human being should be like
+this,--she would have died if we had not found her." And then as the
+other opened her eyes and struggled to lift herself, Helen caught an
+incoherent word and said, "I think she is thirsty, David; get some
+water and perhaps that will help her. We must find some way to
+comfort her, for this is too horrible to be. And perhaps it is not
+her fault, you know,--who knows but perhaps some man may have been
+the cause of it all? Is it not dreadful to think of, David?"
+
+So the girl went on; her back was turned to her husband, and she was
+engrossed in her task of mercy, and did not see what he was doing.
+She did not see that he had started forward in his chair and was
+staring at the woman; she did not see him leaning forward, farther
+and farther, with a strange look upon his face. But there was
+something she did see at last, as the woman lifted herself again and
+stared first at Helen's own pitying face, and then vaguely about the
+room, and last of all gazing at David. Suddenly she stretched out
+her arms to him and strove to rise, with a wild cry that made Helen
+leap back in consternation:--"David! It's David!"
+
+And at the same instant David sprang up with what was almost a
+scream of horror; he reeled and staggered backwards against the
+wall, clutching with his hands at his forehead, his face a ghastly,
+ashen gray; and as Helen sprang up and ran towards him, he sank down
+upon his knees with a moan, gazing up into the air with a look of
+agony upon his face. "My God! My God!" he gasped; "it is my Mary!"
+
+And Helen sank down beside him, clutching him by the arm, and
+staring at him in terror. "David, David!" she whispered, in a hoarse
+voice. But the man seemed not to hear her, so overwhelmed was he by
+his own emotion. "It is Mary," he cried out again,--"it is my
+Mary!--oh God, have mercy upon my soul!" And then a shudder passed
+over him, and he buried his face in his arms and fell down upon the
+floor, with Helen, almost paralyzed with fright, still clinging to
+him.
+
+In the meantime the woman had still been stretching out her
+trembling arms to him, crying his name again and again; as she sank
+back exhausted the man started up and rushed toward her, clutching
+her by the hand, and exclaiming frantically, "Mary, Mary, it is
+I--speak to me!" But the other's delirium seemed to have returned,
+and she only stared at him blankly. At last David staggered to his
+feet and began pacing wildly up and down, hiding his face in his
+hands, and crying helplessly, "Oh, God, that this should come to me
+now! Oh, how can I bear it--oh, Mary, Mary!"
+
+He sank down upon the sofa again and burst into fearful sobbing;
+Helen, who had still been kneeling where he left her, rushed toward
+him and flung her arms about him, crying out, "David, David, what is
+the matter? David, you will kill me; what is it?"
+
+And he started and stared at her wildly, clutching her arm. "Helen,"
+he gasped, "listen to me! I ruined that woman! Do you hear me?--do
+you hear me? It was I who betrayed her--I who made her what she is!
+_I--I!_ Oh, leave me,--leave me alone--oh, what can I do?"
+
+Then as the girl still clung to him, sobbing his name in terror, the
+man went on, half beside himself with his grief, "Oh, think of
+it--oh, how can I bear to know it and live? Twenty-three years
+ago,--and it comes back to curse me now! And all these years I have been
+living and forgetting it--and been happy, and talking of my
+goodness--oh God, and this fearful madness upon the earth! And I
+made it--I--and _she_ has had to pay for it! Oh, look at her,
+Helen, look at her--think that that foulness is mine! She was
+beautiful,--she was pure,--and she might have been happy, she would
+have been good, but for me! Oh God in heaven, where can I hide
+myself, what can I do?"
+
+Helen was still clutching at his arm, crying to him, "David, spare
+me!" He flung her off in a mad frenzy, holding her at arm's length,
+and staring at her with a fearful light in his eyes. "Girl, girl!"
+he cried, "do you know who I am--do you know what I have done? This
+girl was like you once, and I made her love me--made her love me
+with the sacred fire that God had given me, made her love me as I
+made _you_ love me! And she was beautiful like you--she was younger
+than you, and as happy as you! And she trusted me as you trusted me,
+she gave herself to me as you did, and I took her, and promised her
+my love--and now look at her! Can you wish to be near me, can you
+wish to see me? Oh, Helen, I cannot bear myself--oh, leave me, I
+must die!"
+
+He sank down once more, weeping, all his form shaking with his
+grief; Helen flung her arms about his neck again, but the man seemed
+to forget her presence. "Oh, think where that woman has been," he
+moaned; "think what she has seen, and done, and suffered--and what
+she is! Was there ever such a wreck of womanhood, ever such a curse
+upon earth? And, oh, for the years that she has lived in her fearful
+sin, and I have been happy--great God, what can I do for those
+years,--how can I live and gaze upon this crime of mine? I, who
+sought for beauty, to have made this madness; and it comes now to
+curse me, now, when it is too late; when the life is wrecked,--when
+it is gone forever!"
+
+David's voice had sunk into a moan; and then suddenly he heard the
+woman crying out, and he staggered to his feet. She was sitting up
+again, her arms stretched out; David caught her in his own, gazing
+into her face and crying, "Mary, Mary! Look at me! Here I am--I am
+David, the David you loved."
+
+He stopped, gasping for breath, and the woman cried in a faint
+voice, "Water, water!" David turned and called to Helen, and the
+poor girl, tho scarcely able to stand, ran to get a glass of it;
+another thought came to the man in the meantime, and he turned to
+the other with a sudden cry. "If there were a child!" he gasped, "a
+child of mine somewhere in the world, alone and helpless!" He stared
+into the woman's eyes imploringly.
+
+She was gazing at him, choking and trying to speak; she seemed to be
+making an effort to understand him, and as David repeated his
+agonizing question she gave a sign of assent, causing a still wilder
+look to cross the man's face. He called to her again to tell him
+where; but the woman seemed to be sinking back into her raving, and
+she only gasped faintly again for water.
+
+When Helen brought it they poured it down her throat, and then David
+repeated his question once more; but he gave a groan as he saw that
+it was all in vain; the wild raving had begun again, and the woman
+only stared at him blankly, until at last the wretched man, quite
+overcome, sank down at her side and buried his head upon her
+shrunken bosom and cried like a child, poor Helen in the meantime
+clinging to him still.
+
+It was only when David had quite worn himself out that he seemed to
+hear her pleading voice; then he looked at her, and for the first
+time through his own grief caught sight of hers. There was such a
+look of helpless woe upon Helen's face that he put out his hand to
+her and whispered faintly, "Oh, poor little girl, what have _you_
+done that you should suffer so?" As Helen drew closer to him,
+clinging to his hand in fright, he went on, "Can you ever forgive me
+for this horror--forgive me that I dared to forget it, that I dared
+to marry you?"
+
+The girl's answer was a faint moan, "David, David, have mercy on
+me!" He gazed at her for a moment, reading still more of her
+suffering.
+
+"Helen," he asked, "you see what has come upon me--can you ask me
+not to be wretched, can you ask me still to live? What can I do for
+such a crime,--when I look at this wreck of a soul, what comfort can
+I hope to find?" And the girl, her heart bursting with grief, could
+only clasp his hands in hers and gaze into his eyes; there was no
+word she could think of to say to him, and so for a long time the
+two remained in silence, David again fixing his eyes upon the woman,
+who seemed to be sinking into a kind of stupor.
+
+When he looked up once more it was because Helen was whispering in
+his ear, a new thought having come to her, "David, perhaps _I_ might
+be able to help you yet."
+
+The man replied in a faint, gasping voice, "Help me? How?" And the
+girl answered, "Come with me," and rose weakly to her feet, half
+lifting him also. He gazed at the woman and saw that she was lying
+still, and then he did as Helen asked. She led him gently into the
+other room, away from the fearful sight, and the two sat down, David
+limp and helpless, so that he could only sink down in her arms with
+a groan. "Poor, poor David," she whispered, in a voice of infinite
+pity; "oh, my poor David!"
+
+"Then you do not scorn me, Helen?" the man asked in a faint,
+trembling voice, and went on pleading with her, in words so abject
+and so wretched that they wrung the girl's heart more than ever.
+
+"David, how can you speak to me so?" she cried, "you who are all my
+life?" And then she added with swift intensity, "Listen to me,
+David, it cannot be so bad as that, I know it! Will you not tell me,
+David? Tell me all, so that I may help you!" So she went on pleading
+with him gently, until at last the man spoke again, in faltering
+words.
+
+"Helen," he said, "I was only a boy; God knows that is one excuse,
+if it is the only one. I was only seventeen, and she was no more."
+
+"Who was she, David?" the girl asked.
+
+"She lived in a village across the mountains from here, near where
+our home used to be. She was a farmer's daughter, and she was
+beautiful--oh, to think that that woman was once a beautiful girl,
+and innocent and pure! But we were young, we loved each other, and
+we had no one to warn us; it was so long ago that it seems like a
+dream to me now, but we sinned, and I took her for mine; then I went
+home to tell my father, to tell him that she was my wife, and that I
+must marry her. And oh, God, she was a farmer's daughter, and I was
+a rich man's son, and the cursed world knows nothing of human souls!
+And I must not marry her--I found all the world in arms against
+it---"
+
+"And you let yourself be persuaded?" asked the girl, in a faint
+whisper.
+
+"Persuaded?" echoed David, his voice shaking; "who would have
+thought of persuading a mad boy? I let myself be commanded and
+frightened into submission, and carried away. And then five or six
+miserable months passed away and I got a letter from her, and she
+was with child, and she was ruined forever,--she prayed to me in
+words that have haunted me night and day all my life, to come to her
+and keep my promise."
+
+And David stopped and gave a groan; the other whispered, "You could
+not go?"
+
+"I went," he answered; "I borrowed money, begged it from one of my
+father's servants, and ran away and went up there; and oh, I was two
+days too late!"
+
+"Too late?" exclaimed Helen wonderingly.
+
+"Yes, yes," was the hoarse reply, "for she was a weak and helpless
+girl, and scorned of all the world; and her parents had turned her
+away, and she was gone, no one knew where. Helen, from that day to
+this I have never seen her, nor ever heard of her; and now she comes
+to curse me,--to curse my soul forever. And it is more than I can
+bear, more than I can bear!"
+
+David sank down again, crying out, "It is too much, it is too much!"
+But then suddenly he caught his wife's hand in his and stared up at
+her, exclaiming, "And she said there was a child, Helen! Somewhere
+in the world there is another soul suffering for this sin of mine!
+Oh, somehow we must find out about that--something must be done, I
+could not have two such fearful things to know of. We must find out,
+we must find out!"
+
+As the man stopped and stared wildly about him he heard the woman's
+voice again, and sprang up; but Helen, terrified at his suffering,
+caught him by the arm, whispering, "No, no, David, let me go in, I
+can take care of her." And she forced her husband down on the sofa
+once more, and then ran into the next room. She found the woman
+again struggling to raise herself upon her trembling arms, staring
+about her and calling out incoherently. Helen rushed to her and took
+her hands in hers, trying to soothe her again.
+
+But the woman staggered to her feet, oblivious of everything about
+her. "Where is he? Where is he?" she gasped hoarsely; "he will come
+back!" She began calling David's name, and a moment later, as Helen
+tried to keep her quiet, she tore her hands loose and rushed blindly
+across the room, shrieking louder yet, "David, where are you? Don't
+you know me, David?"
+
+As Helen turned she saw that her husband had heard the cries and
+come to the doorway again; but it was all in vain, for the woman,
+though she looked at him, knew him no more; it was to a phantom of
+her own brain that she was calling, in the meantime pacing up and
+down, her voice rising higher and higher. She was reeling this way
+and that, and Helen, frightened at her violence, strove to restrain
+her, only to be flung off as if she had been a child; the woman
+rushed on, groping about her blindly and crying still, "David! Tell
+me where is David!"
+
+Then as David and Helen stood watching her in helpless misery her
+delirious mood changed, and she clutched her hands over her bosom,
+and shuddered, and moaned to herself, "It is cold, oh, it is cold!"
+Afterwards she burst into frantic sobbing, that choked her and shook
+all her frame; and again into wild peals of laughter; and then last
+of all she stopped and sprang back, staring in front of her with her
+whole face a picture of agonizing fright; she gave one wild scream
+after another and staggered and sank down at last upon the floor.
+"Oh, it is he, it is he!" she cried, her voice sinking into a
+shudder; "oh, spare me,--why should you beat me? Oh God, have
+mercy--have mercy!" Her cries rose again into a shriek that made
+Helen's blood run cold; she looked in terror at her husband, and saw
+that his face was white; in the meantime the wretched woman had
+flung herself down prostrate upon the floor, where she lay groveling
+and writhing.
+
+That again, however, was only for a minute or two; she staggered up
+once more and rushed blindly across the room, crying, "I cannot bear
+it, I cannot bear it! Oh, what have I done?" Then suddenly as she
+flung up her arms imploringly and staggered blindly on, she lurched
+forward and fell, striking her head against the corner of the table.
+
+Helen started forward with a cry of alarm, but before she had taken
+half a dozen steps the woman had raised herself to her feet once
+more, and was staring at her, blinded by the blood which poured from
+a cut in her forehead. Her clothing was torn half from her, and her
+tangled hair streamed from her shoulders; she was a ghastly sight to
+behold, as, delirious with terror, she began once more rushing this
+way and that about the room. The two who watched her were powerless
+to help her, and could only drink in the horror of it all and
+shudder, as with each minute the poor creature became more frantic
+and more desperate. All the while it was evident that her strength
+was fast leaving her; she staggered more and more, and at last she
+sank down upon her knees. She strove to rise again and found that
+she could not, but lurched and fell upon the floor; as she turned
+over and Helen saw her face, the sight was too much for the girl's
+self-control, and she buried her face in her hands and broke into
+frantic sobbing.
+
+David in the meantime was crouching in the doorway, his gaze fixed
+upon the woman; he did not seem even to notice Helen's outburst, so
+lost was all his soul in the other sight. Fie saw that the
+stranger's convulsive efforts were weakening, and he staggered
+forward with a cry, and flung himself forward down on his knees
+beside her. "Mary, Mary!" he called; but she did not heed him, tho
+he clasped her hands and shook her, gazing into her face
+imploringly. Her eyes were fixed upon him, but it was with a vacant
+stare; and then suddenly he started back with a cry of
+horror--"Great God, she is dying!"
+
+The woman made a sudden fearful effort to lift herself, struggling
+and gasping, her face distorted with fierce agony; as it failed she
+sank back, and lay panting hard for breath; then a shudder passed
+over her, and while David still stared, transfixed, a hoarse rattle
+came from her throat, and her features became suddenly set in their
+dreadful passion. In a moment more all was still; and David buried
+his face in his hands and sank down upon the corpse, without even a
+moan.
+
+Afterwards, for a full minute there was not a sound in the room;
+Helen's sobbing had ceased, she had looked up and sat staring at the
+two figures,--until at last, with a sudden start of fright she
+sprang up and crept silently toward them. She glanced once at the
+woman's body, and then bent over David; as she felt that his heart
+was still beating, she caught him to her bosom, and knelt thus in
+terror, staring first into his white and tortured features, and then
+at the body on the floor.
+
+Finally, however, she nerved herself, and tho she was trembling and
+exhausted, staggered to her feet with her burden; holding it tightly
+in her arms she went step by step, slowly and in silence out of the
+room. When she had passed into the next one she shut the door and,
+sinking down upon the sofa, lifted David's broken figure beside her
+and locked it in her arms and was still. Thus she sat without a
+sound or a motion, her heart within her torn with fear and pain, all
+through the long hours of that night; when the cold, white dawn came
+up, she was still pressing him to her bosom, sobbing and whispering
+faintly, "Oh, David! Oh, my poor, poor David!"
+
+  Hast du im Venusburg geweilt, So bist nun
+  ewig du verdammt!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+"Then said I, 'Woe is me! For I am undone;... for mine
+eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts.'"
+
+David's servant drove out early upon the following morning to tell
+him of a strange woman who had been asking for him in the village;
+they sent the man back for a doctor, and it was found that the poor
+creature was really dead.
+
+They wished to take the body away, but David would not have it; and
+so, late in the afternoon, a grave was dug by the lake-shore near
+the little cottage, and what was left of Mary was buried there.
+David was too exhausted to leave the house, and Helen would not stir
+from his side, so the two sat in silence until the ceremony was
+over, and the men had gone. The servant went with them, because the
+girl said they wished to be alone; and then the house settled down
+to its usual quietness,--a quietness that frightened Helen now.
+
+For when she looked at her husband her heart scarcely beat for her
+terror; he was ghastly white, and his lips were trembling, and
+though he had not shed a tear all the day, there was a look of
+mournful despair on his face that told more fearfully than any words
+how utterly the soul within him was beaten and crushed. All that day
+he had been so, and as Helen remembered the man that had been before
+so strong and eager and brare, her whole soul stood still with awe;
+yet as before she could do nothing but cling to him, and gaze at him
+with bursting heart.
+
+But at last when the hours had passed and not a move had been made,
+she asked him faintly, "David, is there no hope? Is it to be like
+this always?"
+
+The man raised his eyes and gazed at her helplessly. "Helen," he
+said, his voice sounding hollow and strange, "what can you ask of
+me? How can I bear to look about me again, how can I think of
+living? Oh, that night of horror! Helen, it burns my brain--it
+tortures my soul--it will drive me mad!" He buried his face in his
+hands again, shaking with emotion. "Oh, I cannot ever forget it," he
+whispered hoarsely; "it must haunt me, haunt me until I die! I must
+know that after all my years of struggle it was this that I made, it
+is this that stands for my life--and it is over, and gone from me
+forever and finished! Oh, God, was there ever such a horror flashed
+upon a guilty soul--ever such fiendish torture for a man to bear?
+And Helen, there was a child, too--think how that thought must goad
+me--a child of mine, and I cannot ever aid it--it must suffer for
+its mother's shame. And think, if it were a woman, Helen--this
+madness must go on, and go on forever! Oh, where am I to hide me;
+and what can I do?"
+
+There came no tears, but only a fearful sobbing; poor Helen
+whispered frantically, "David, it was not your fault, you could not
+help it--surely you cannot be to blame for all this."
+
+He did not answer her, but after a long silence he went on in a
+deep, low voice, "Helen, she was so beautiful! She has lived in my
+thoughts all these years as the figure that I used to see, so bright
+and so happy; I used to hear her singing in church, and the music
+was a kind of madness to me, because I knew that she loved me. And
+her home was a little farm-house, half buried in great trees, and I
+used to see her there with her flowers. Now--oh, think of her
+now--think of her life of shame and agony--think of her turned away
+from her home, and from all she loved in the world,--deserted and
+scorned, and helpless--think of her with child, and of the agony of
+her degradation! What must she not have suffered to be as she was
+last night--oh, are there tears enough in the world to pay for such
+a curse, for that twenty years' burden of wretchedness and sin? And
+she was beaten--oh, she was beaten--Mary, my poor, poor Mary! And to
+die in such horror, in drunkenness and madness! And now she is gone,
+and it is over; and oh, why should I live, what can I do?"
+
+His voice dropped into a moan, and then again there was a long
+silence. At last Helen whispered, in a weak, trembling voice,
+"David, you have still love; can that be nothing to you?"
+
+"I have no right to love," he groaned, "no right to love, and I
+never had any. For oh, all my life this vision has haunted me--I
+knew that nothing but death could have saved her from shame! Yes,
+and I knew, too, that some day I must find her. I have carried the
+terror of that in my heart all these years. Yet I dared to take your
+love, and dared to fly from my sin; and then there comes this
+thunderbolt--oh, merciful heaven, it is too much to bear, too much
+to bear!" He sank down again; poor Helen could find no word of
+comfort, no utterance of her own bursting heart except the same
+frantic clasp of her love.
+
+So the day went by over that shattered life; and each hour the man's
+despair grew more black, his grief and misery more hopeless. The
+girl watched him and followed him about as if she had been a child,
+but she could get him to take no food, and to divert his mind to
+anything else she dared not even try. He would sit for hours
+writhing in his torment, and then again he would spring up and pace
+the room in agitation, though he was too weak to bear that very
+long. Afterwards the long night came on, and all through it he lay
+tossing and moaning, sometimes shuddering in a kind of paroxysm of
+grief,--Helen, though she was weary and almost fainting, watching
+thro the whole night, her heart wild with her dread.
+
+And so the morning came, and another day of misery; and in the midst
+of it David flung himself down upon the sofa and buried his face in
+his arms and cried out, "Oh God, my God, I cannot stand it, I cannot
+stand it! Oh, let me die! I dare not lift my head--there is no hope
+for me--there is no life for me--I dare not pray! It is more than I
+can bear--I am beaten, I am lost forever!" And Helen fell down upon
+her knees beside him, and tore away his hands from his face and
+stared at him frantically, exclaiming, "David, it is too cruel! Oh,
+have mercy upon me, David, if you love me!"
+
+He stopped and gazed long and earnestly into her face, and a look of
+infinite pity came into his eyes; at last he whispered, in a low
+voice, "Poor, poor little Helen; oh, Helen, God help you, what can I
+do?" He paused and afterwards went on tremblingly, "What have you
+done that you should suffer like this? You are right that it is too
+cruel--it is another curse that I have to bear! For I knew that I
+was born to suffering--I knew that my life was broken and dying--and
+yet I dared to take yours into it! And now, what can I do to save
+you, Helen; can you not see that I dare not live?"
+
+"David, it is you who are killing yourself," the girl moaned in
+answer. He did not reply, but there came a long, long silence, in
+which he seemed to be sinking still deeper; and when he went on it
+was in a shuddering voice that made Helen's heart stop. "Oh, it is
+no use," he gasped, "it is no use! Listen, Helen, there was another
+secret that I kept from you, because it was too fearful; but I can
+keep it no more, I can fight no more!"
+
+He stopped; the girl had clutched his arm, and was staring into his
+face, whispering his name hoarsely. At last he went on in his cruel
+despair, "I knew this years ago, too, and I knew that I was bringing
+it upon you--the misery of this wretched, dying body. Oh, it
+hurts--it hurts now!" And he put his hand over his heart, as a look
+of pain came into his face. "It cannot stand much more, my heart,"
+he panted; "the time must come--they told me it would come years
+ago! And then--and then--"
+
+The man stopped, because he was looking at Helen; she had not made a
+sound, but her face had turned so white, and her lips were trembling
+so fearfully that he dared not go on; she gave a loud, choking cry
+and burst out wildly, "Oh, David--David--it is fiendish--you have
+no right to punish me so! Oh, have mercy upon me, for you are
+killing me! You have no right to do it, I tell you it is a crime;
+you promised me your love, and if you loved me you would live for my
+sake, you would think of me! A thing so cruel ought not to be--it
+cannot be right--God could never have meant a human soul to suffer
+so! And there must be pardon in the world, there must be light--it
+cannot all be torture like this!" She burst into a flood of tears
+and flung herself upon David's bosom, sobbing again and again, "Oh,
+no, no, it is too fearful, oh, save me, save me!"
+
+He did not answer her; as she looked up at him again she saw the
+same look of fearful woe, and read the cruel fact that there was no
+help, that her own grief and pleadings were only deepening the man's
+wretchedness. She stared at him for a long time; and when she spoke
+to him again it was with a sudden start, and in a strange, ghastly
+voice,--"And then, David, there is no God?"
+
+He trembled, but the words choked him as he tried to respond, and
+his head dropped; then at last she heard him moan, "Oh, how can God
+free my soul from this madness, how can he deliver me from such a
+curse?" Helen could say no more--could only cling to him and sob in
+her fright.
+
+So the day passed away, and another night came; and still the
+crushed and beaten soul was writhing in its misery, lost in
+blackness and despair; and still Helen read it all in his white and
+tortured features, and drank the full cup of his soul's fiery pain.
+
+They took no heed of the time; but it was long after darkness had
+fallen; and once when the girl had gone upstairs for a moment she
+heard David pacing about, and then heard a stifled cry. She rushed
+down, and stopped short in the doorway. For the man was upon his
+knees, his face uplifted in wild entreaty. "Oh God, oh merciful
+God!" he sobbed; "all the days of my life I have sought for
+righteousness, labored and suffered to keep my soul alive! And oh,
+was it all for this--was it to go down in blackness and night, to
+die a beaten man, crushed and lost? Oh, I cannot bear it, I cannot
+bear it! It cannot--it must not be!"
+
+He sank forward upon the sofa, and buried his head in his arms, and
+the girl could hear his breathing in the stillness; at last she
+crept across the room and knelt down beside him, and whispered
+softly in his ear, "You do not give me your heart any more, David?"
+
+It was a long time before he answered her, and then it was to moan,
+"Oh, Helen, my heart is broken, I can give it to no one. Once I had
+strength and faith, and could love; but now I am lost and ruined,
+and there is nothing that can save me. I dare not live, and I dare
+not die, and I know not where to turn!"
+
+He started up suddenly, clasping his hands to his forehead and
+staggering across the room, crying out, "Oh no, it cannot be, oh, it
+cannot be! There must be some way of finding pardon, some way of
+winning Tightness for a soul! Oh God, what can I do for peace?" But
+then again he sank down and hid his face and sobbed out: "In the
+face of this nightmare,--with this horror fronting me! _She_ cried
+for pardon, and none came."
+
+After that there was a long silence, with Helen crouching in terror
+by his side. She heard him groan: "It is all over, it is finished--I
+can fight no more," and then again came stillness, and when she
+lifted him and gazed into his face she knew not which was worse, the
+silent helpless despair that was upon it, or the torment and the
+suffering that had gone before. She tried still to soothe him,
+begging and pleading with him to have mercy upon her. He asked her
+faintly what he could do, and the poor girl, seeing how weak and
+exhausted he was, could think of only the things of the body, and
+begged him to try to rest. "It has been two nights since you have
+slept, David," she whispered.
+
+"I cannot sleep with this burden upon my soul," he answered her; but
+still she pleaded with him, begging him as he loved her; and he
+yielded to her at last, and broken and helpless as he was, she half
+carried him upstairs and laid him upon the bed as if he had been a
+little child. That seemed to help little, however, for he only lay
+tossing and moaning, "Oh, God, it must end; I cannot bear it!"
+
+Those were the last words Helen heard, for the poor girl was
+exhausted herself, almost to fainting; she lay down, without
+undressing, and her head had scarcely touched the pillow before she
+was asleep. In the meantime, through the long night-watches David
+lay writhing and crying out for help.
+
+The moon rose dim and red behind the mountains,--it had mounted
+high in the sky, and the room was bright with it, when at last the
+man rose from the bed and began swiftly pacing the room, still
+muttering to himself. He sank down upon his knees by the window and
+gazed up at the silent moon. Then again he rose and turned suddenly,
+and after a hurried glance at Helen went to the door and passed out,
+closing it silently behind him, and whispered to himself, half
+deliriously, "Oh, great God, it must end! It must end!"
+
+It was more than an hour afterwards that the girl awakened from her
+troubled sleep; she lay for an instant half dazed, trying to bring
+back to her mind what had happened; and then she put out her hand
+and discovered that her husband was no longer by her. She sat up
+with a wild start, and at the same instant her ear was caught by a
+sound outside, of footsteps pacing swiftly back and forth, back and
+forth, upon the piazza. The girl leaped up with a stifled cry, and
+ran out of the room and down the steps. The room below was still
+half lighted by the flickering log-fire, and Helen's shadow loomed
+up on the opposite wall as she rushed across the room and opened the
+door.
+
+The gray light of dawn was just spreading across the lake, but the
+girl noticed only one thing, her husband's swiftly moving figure.
+She rushed to him, and as he heard her, he turned and stared at her
+an instant as if dazed, and then staggered with a cry into her arms.
+"David, David!" she exclaimed, "what is the matter?" Then as she
+clasped him to her she found that his body was trembling
+convulsively, and that his hand as she took it was hot like fire;
+she called to him again in yet greater anxiety: "David, David! What
+is it? You will kill me if you treat me so!"
+
+He answered her weakly, "Nothing, dear, nothing," and she caught him
+to her, and turned and half carried him into the house. She
+staggered into a chair with him, and then sat gazing in terror at
+his countenance. For the man's forehead was burning and moist, and
+his frame was shaking and broken; he was completely prostrated by
+the fearful agitation that had possessed him. Helen cried to him
+once more, but he could only pant, "Wait, wait," and sink back and
+let his head fall upon her arm; he lay with his eyes closed,
+breathing swiftly, and shuddering now and then. "It was God!" he
+panted with a sudden start, his voice choking; "He has shown me His
+face! He has set me free!"
+
+Then again for a long time he lay with heaving bosom, Helen
+whispering to him pleadingly, "David, David!" As he opened his eyes,
+the girl saw a wonderful look upon his face; and at last he began
+speaking, in a low, shaking voice, and pausing often to catch his
+breath: "Oh, Helen," he said, "it is all gone, but I won, and my
+life's prayer has not been for nothing! I was never so lost, so
+beaten; but all the time there was a voice in my soul that cried to
+me to fight,--that there was glory enough in God's home for even me!
+And oh, to-night it came--it came!"
+
+David sank back, and there was a long silence before he went on: "It
+was wonderful, Helen," he whispered, "there has come nothing like it
+to me in all my life; for I had never drunk such sorrow before,
+never known such fearful need. It seems as if all the pent-up forces
+of my nature broke loose in one wild, fearful surge, as if there was
+a force behind me like a mighty, driving storm, that swept me on and
+away, beyond self and beyond time, and out into the life of things.
+It was like the surging of fierce music, it was the great ocean of
+the infinite bursting its way into my heart. And it bore me on, so
+that I was mad with it, so that I knew not where I was, only that I
+was panting for breath, and that I could bear it no more and cried
+out in pain!"
+
+David as he spoke had been lifting himself, the memory of his vision
+taking hold of him once more; but then he sank down again and
+whispered, "Oh, I have no more strength, I can do no more; but it
+was God, and I am free!"
+
+He lay trembling and breathing fast again, but sinking back from his
+effort and closing his eyes exhaustedly. After a long time he went
+on in a faint voice, "I suppose if I had lived long ago that would
+have been a vision of God's heaven; and yet there was not an instant
+of it--even when I fell down upon the ground and when I struck my
+hands upon the stones because they were numb and burning--when I
+did not know just what it was, the surging passion of my soul flung
+loose at last! It was like the voices of the stars and the
+mountains, that whisper of that which is and which conquers, of That
+which conquers without sound or sign; Helen, I thought of that
+wonderful testament of Pascal's that has haunted me all my
+lifetime,--those strange, wild, gasping words of a soul gone mad
+with awe, and beyond all utterance except a cry,--'Joy, joy, tears
+of joy!' And I thought of a still more fearful story, I thought that
+it must have been such thunder-music that rang through the soul of
+the Master and swept Him away beyond scorn and pain, so that the men
+about Him seemed like jeering phantoms that He might scatter with
+His hand, before the glory of vision in which it was all one to live
+or die. Oh, it is that which has brought me my peace! God needs not
+our help, but only our worship; and beside His glory all our guilt
+is nothing, and there is no madness like our fear. And oh, if we can
+only hold to that and fight for it, conquer all temptation and all
+pain--all fear because we must die, and cease to be--"
+
+The man had clenched his hands again, and was lifting himself with
+the wild look upon his countenance; he seemed to the girl to be
+delirious, and she was shuddering, half with awe and half with
+terror. She interrupted him in a sudden burst of alarm: "Yes,
+yes,--but David, David, not now, not now--it is too much--you will
+kill yourself!"
+
+"I can die," he panted, "I can die, but I cannot ever be mastered
+again, never again be blind! Oh, Helen, all my life I have been lost
+and beaten--beaten by my weakness and my fear; but this once, this
+once I was free, this once I knew, and I lived; and now I can die
+rejoicing! Listen to me, Helen; while I am here there can be no more
+delaying,--no more weakness! Such sin and doubt as that of
+yesterday must never conquer my soul again, I will not any more be
+at the mercy of chance. I love you, Helen, God knows that I love you
+with all my soul; and this much for love I will do, if God spares me
+a day,--take you, and tear the heart out of you, if need be, but
+only teach you to live, teach you to hold by this Truth. It is a
+fearful thing, Helen; it is madness to me to know that at any
+instant I may cease to be, and that you may be left alone in your
+terror and your weakness. Oh, look at me,--look at me! There is no
+more tempting fate, there is no more shirking the battle--there is
+life, there is life to be lived! And it calls to you now,--_now!_
+And now you must win,--cost just what it may in blood and tears! You
+have the choice between that and ruin, and before God you shall
+choose the right! Listen to me, Helen--it is only prayer that can do
+it, it is only by prayer that you can fight this fearful
+battle--bring before you this truth of the soul, and hold on to
+it,--hold on to it tho it kill you! For He was through all the ages,
+His glory is of the skies; and we are but for an instant, and we
+have to die; and this we must know, or we are lost! There comes
+pain, and calls you back to fear and doubt; and you fight--oh, it is
+a cruel fight, it is like a wild beast at your vitals,--but still
+you hold on--you hold on!"
+
+The man had lifted himself with a wild effort, his hands clenched
+and his teeth set. He had caught the girl's hands in his, and she
+screamed in fear: "David, David! You will kill yourself!"
+
+"Yes, yes!" he answered, and rushed on, chokingly; "it is coming
+just so; for I have just force enough left to win--just force enough
+to save you,--and then it will rend this frame of mine in two! It
+comes like a clutch at my heart--it blinds me, and the sky seems to
+turn to fire----"
+
+He sank back with a gasp; Helen caught him to her bosom, exclaiming
+frantically, "Oh, David, spare me--wait! Not now--you cannot bear
+it--have mercy!"
+
+He lay for a long time motionless, seemingly half dazed; then he
+whispered faintly, "Yes, dear, yes; let us wait. But oh, if you
+could know the terror of another defeat, of sinking down and letting
+one's self be bound in the old chains--I must not lose, Helen, I
+dare not fail!"
+
+"Listen, David," whispered Helen, beginning suddenly with desperate
+swiftness; "why should you fail? Why can you not listen to me, pity
+me, wait until you are strong? You have won, you will not
+forget--and is there no peace, can you not rest in this faith, and
+fear no more?" The man seemed to Helen to be half out of his mind
+for the moment; she was trying to manage him with a kind of frenzied
+cunning. As she went on whispering and imploring she saw that
+David's exhaustion was gradually overcoming him more and more, and
+that he was sinking farther and farther back from his wild
+agitation. At last after she had continued thus for a while he
+closed his eyes and began breathing softly. "Yes, dear," he
+whispered; "yes; I will be quiet. There has come to my soul to-night
+a peace that is not for words; I can be still, and know that He is
+God, and that He is holy."
+
+His voice dropped lower each instant, the girl in the meantime
+soothing him and stroking his forehead and pleading with him in a
+shuddering voice, her heart wild with fright. When at last he was
+quite still, and the fearful vision, that had been like a nightmare
+to her, was gone with all its storm and its madness, she took him
+upon her lap, just as she had done before, and sat there clasping
+him in her arms while the time fled by unheeded. It was long
+afterwards--the sun was gleaming across the lake and in at the
+window--before at last her trembling prayer was answered, and he
+sank into an exhausted slumber.
+
+She sat watching him for a long time still, quite white with fear
+and weariness; finally, however, she rose, and carrying the frail
+body in her arms, laid it quietly upon the sofa in the next room.
+She knelt watching it for a time, then went out upon the piazza,
+closing the door behind her.
+
+And there the fearful tension that the dread of wakening him had put
+upon her faculties gave way at last, and the poor girl buried her
+face in her hands, and sank down, sobbing convulsively: "Oh, God,
+oh, God, what can I do, how can I bear it?" She gazed about her
+wildly, exclaiming, "I cannot stand it, and there is no one to help
+me! What _can_ I do?"
+
+Perhaps it was the first real prayer that had ever passed Helen's
+lips; but the burden of her sorrow was too great just then for her
+to bear alone, even in thought. She leaned against the railing of
+the porch with her arms stretched out before her imploringly, her
+face uplifted, and the tears running down her cheeks; she poured out
+one frantic cry, the only cry that she could think of:--"Oh, God,
+have mercy upon me, have mercy upon me! I cannot bear it!"
+
+So she sobbed on, and several minutes passed, but there came to her
+no relief; when she thought of David, of his breaking body and of
+his struggling soul, it seemed to her as if she were caught in the
+grip of a fiend, and that no power could save her. She could only
+clasp her hands together and shudder, and whisper, "What shall I do,
+what shall I do?"
+
+Thus it was that the time sped by; and the morning sun rose higher
+in front of her, and shone down upon the wild and wan figure that
+seemed like a phantom of the night. She was still crouching in the
+same position, her mind as overwrought and hysterical as ever, when
+a strange and unexpected event took place, one which seemed to her
+at first in her state of fright like some delusion of her mind.
+
+Except for her own emotion, and for the faint sound of the waves
+upon the shore, everything about her had been still; her ear was
+suddenly caught, however, by the noise of a footstep, and she turned
+and saw the figure of a man coming down the path from the woods; she
+started to her feet, gazing in surprise.
+
+It was broad daylight then, and Helen could see the person plainly;
+she took only one glance, and reeled and staggered back as if it
+were a ghost at which she was gazing. She crouched by a pillar of
+the porch, trembling like a leaf, and scarcely able to keep her
+senses, leaning from side to side and peering out, with her whole
+attitude expressive of unutterable consternation, and even fright.
+At last when she had gazed until it was no longer possible for her
+to think that she was the victim of madness, she stared suddenly up
+into the air, and caught her forehead in her hands, at the same time
+whispering to herself in an almost fainting voice: "Great heaven,
+what can it mean? Can it be real--can it be true? _It is Arthur!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+  I am Merlin
+    And I am dying,
+  "I am Merlin,
+    Who follow the Gleam."
+
+Helen stood gazing at the figure in utter consternation for at least
+half a minute before she could find voice; then she bent forward and
+called to him wildly--"Arthur!"
+
+It was the other's turn to be startled then, and he staggered
+backward; as he gazed up at Helen his look showed plainly that he
+too was half convinced that he was gazing at a phantom of his own
+mind, and for a long time he stood, pressing his hands to his heart
+and unable to make a sound or a movement. When finally he broke the
+silence his voice was a hoarse whisper. "Helen," he panted, "what in
+heaven's name are you doing here?"
+
+And then as the girl answered, "This is my home, Arthur," he gave
+another start.
+
+"You live here with him?" he gasped.
+
+"With him?" echoed Helen in a low voice. "With whom, Arthur?"
+
+He answered, "With that Mr. Harrison." A look of amazement crossed
+Helen's face, tho followed quickly by a gleam of comprehension. She
+had quite forgotten that Arthur knew nothing about what she had
+done.
+
+"Arthur," she said, "I did not marry Mr. Harrison;" then, seeing
+that he was staring at her in still greater wonder, she went on
+hastily: "It seems strange to go back to those old days now; but
+once I meant to tell you all about it, Arthur." She paused for a
+moment and then went on slowly: "All the time I was engaged to that
+man I was wretched; and when I saw you the last time--that dreadful
+time by the road--it was almost more than I could bear; so I took
+back my wicked promise of marriage and came to see you and tell you
+all about it."
+
+As the girl had been speaking the other had been staring at her with
+a look upon his face that was indescribable, a look that was more
+terror than anything else; he had staggered back, he grasped at a
+tree to support himself. Helen saw the look and stopped, frightened
+herself.
+
+"What is it, Arthur?" she cried; "what is the matter?"
+
+"You came to see me!" the other gasped hoarsely. "You came to see
+me--and I--and I was gone!"
+
+"Yes, Arthur," said Helen; "you had gone the night before, and I
+could not find you. Then I met this man that I loved, and you wrote
+that you had torn the thought of me from your heart; and so---"
+
+Again Helen stopped, for the man had sunk backwards with a cry that
+made her heart leap in fright. "Arthur!" she exclaimed, taking a
+step towards him; and he answered her with a moan, stretching out
+his arms to her. "Great God, Helen, that letter was a lie!"
+
+Helen stopped, rooted to the spot. "A lie?" she whispered faintly.
+
+"Yes, a lie!" cried the other with a sudden burst of emotion,
+leaping up and starting towards her. "Helen, I have suffered the
+tortures of hell! I loved you--I love you now!"
+
+The girl sprang back, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. Half
+instinctively she drew her light dress more tightly about her; and
+the other saw the motion and stopped, a look of despair crossing his
+face. The two stood thus for fully a minute, staring at each other
+wildly; then suddenly Arthur asked: "You love this man whom you have
+married? You love him?"
+
+The girl answered, "Yes, I love him," and Arthur's arms dropped, and
+his head sank forward. There was a look upon his face that tore
+Helen's heart to see, so that for a moment or two she stood quite
+dazed with this new terror. Then all at once, however, the old one
+came back to her thoughts, and with a faint cry she started toward
+her old friend, stretching out her arms to him and calling to him
+imploringly.
+
+"Oh, Arthur," she cried, "have mercy upon me--do not frighten me
+any more! Arthur, if you only knew what I have suffered, you would
+pity me, you could not help it! You would not fling this burden of
+your misery upon me too."
+
+The man fixed his eyes upon her and for the first time he seemed to
+become aware of the new Helen, the Helen who had replaced the girl
+he had known. He read in her ghastly white face some hint of what
+she had been through, and his own look turned quickly to one of
+wonder, and even awe. "Helen," he whispered, "are you ill?"
+
+"No, Arthur," she responded quickly, full of desperate hope as she
+saw his change. "Not ill, but oh, so frightened. I have been more
+wretched than you can ever dream. Can you not help me, Arthur, will
+you not? I was almost despairing, I thought that my heart would
+burst. Can you not be unselfish?"
+
+The man gazed at her at least a minute; and when he answered at
+last, it was in a low, grave voice that was new to her.
+
+"I will do it, Helen," he said. "What is it?"
+
+The girl came toward him, her voice sinking. "We must not let him
+hear us, Arthur," she whispered. Then as she gazed into his face she
+added pathetically, "Oh, I cannot tell you how I have wished that I
+might only have someone to sympathize with me and help me! I can
+tell everything to you, Arthur."
+
+"You are not happy with your husband?" asked the other, in a
+wondering tone, not able to guess what she meant.
+
+"Happy!" echoed Helen. "Arthur, he is ill, and I have been so
+terrified! I feared that he was going to die; we have had such a
+dreadful sorrow." She paused for a moment, and gazed about her
+swiftly, and laying her finger upon her lips. "He is asleep now,"
+she went on, "asleep for the first time in three nights, and I was
+afraid that we might waken him; we must not make a sound, for it is
+so dreadful."
+
+She stopped, and the other asked her what was the matter. "It was
+three nights ago," she continued, "and oh, we were so happy before
+it! But there came a strange woman, a fearful creature, and she was
+drunk, and my husband found her and brought her home. She was
+delirious, she died here in his arms, while there was no one to help
+her. The dreadful thing was that David had known this woman when she
+was a girl--"
+
+Helen paused again, and caught her breath, for she had been speaking
+very swiftly, shaken by the memory of the scene; the other put in,
+in a low tone, "I heard all about this woman's death, Helen, and I
+know about her--that was how I happen to be here."
+
+And the girl gave a start, echoing, "Why you happen to be here?"
+Afterwards she added quickly, "Oh, I forgot to ask you about that.
+What do you mean, Arthur?"
+
+He hesitated a moment before he answered her, speaking very slowly.
+"It is so sad, Helen," he said, "it is almost too cruel to talk
+about." He stopped again, and the girl looked at him, wondering;
+then he went on to speak one sentence that struck her like a bolt of
+lightning from the sky:--"Helen, that poor woman was my mother!"
+
+And Helen staggered back, almost falling, clutching her hands to her
+forehead, and staring, half dazed.
+
+"Arthur," she panted, "Arthur!"
+
+He bowed his head sadly, answering, "Yes, Helen, it is dreadful--"
+
+And the girl leaped towards him, seizing him by the shoulders with a
+thrilling cry; she stared into his eyes, her own glowing like fire.
+"Arthur!" she gasped again, "Arthur!"
+
+He only looked at her wonderingly, as if thinking she was mad; until
+suddenly she burst out frantically, "You are David's child! You are
+David's child!" And then for fully half a minute the two stood
+staring at each other, too much dazed to move or to make a sound.
+
+At last Arthur echoed the words, scarcely audibly, "David's child!"
+and added, "David is your husband?" As Helen whispered "Yes" again,
+they stood panting for breath. It was a long time before the girl
+could find another word to speak, except over and over, "David's
+child!" She seemed unable to realize quite what it meant, she seemed
+unable to put the facts together.
+
+But then suddenly Arthur whispered: "Then it was your husband who
+ruined that woman?" and as Helen answered "Yes," she grasped a
+little of the truth, and also of Arthur's thought. She ran on
+swiftly: "But oh, it was not his fault, he was only a boy, Arthur!
+And he wished to marry her, but they would not let him--I must tell
+you about that!" Then she stopped short, however; and when she went
+on it was in sudden wild joy that overcame all her other feelings,
+joy that gleamed in her face and made her fling herself down upon
+her knees before Arthur and clutch his hands in hers.
+
+"Oh," she cried, "it was God who sent you, Arthur,--oh, I know that
+it was God! It is so wonderful to think of--to have come to us all
+in a flash! And it will save David's life--it was the thought of the
+child and the fate that it might have suffered that terrified him
+most of all, Arthur. And now to think that it is you--oh, you! And
+you are David's son--I cannot believe it, I cannot believe it!" Then
+with a wild laugh she sprang up again and turned, exclaiming, "Oh,
+he will be so happy,--I must tell him--we must not lose an
+instant!"
+
+She caught Arthur's hand again, and started towards the house; but
+she had not taken half a dozen steps before she halted suddenly, and
+whispered, "Oh, no, I forgot! He is asleep, and we must not waken
+him now, we must wait!"
+
+And then again the laughter broke out over her face, and she turned
+upon him, radiant. "It is so wonderful!" she cried. "It is so
+wonderful to be happy, to be free once more! And after so much
+darkness--oh, it is like coming out of prison! Arthur, dear Arthur,
+just think of it! And David will be so glad!" The tears started into
+the girl's eyes; she turned away to gaze about her at the golden
+morning and to drink in great draughts of its freshness that made
+her bosom heave. The life seemed to have leaped back into her face
+all at once, and the color into her cheeks, and she was more
+beautiful than ever. "To think of being happy!" she panted, "happy
+again! Oh, if I were not afraid of waking David, you do not know how
+happy I could be! Don't you think I ought to waken him anyway,
+Arthur?--it is so wonderful--it will make him strong again! It is
+so beautiful that you, whom I have always been so fond of, that you
+should be David's son! And you can live here and be happy with us!
+Arthur, do you know I used to think how much like David you looked,
+and wonder at it; but, oh, are you sure it is true?"
+
+She chanced to think of the letter that had been left at her
+father's, and exclaimed, "It must have been that! You have been
+home, Arthur?" she added quickly. "And while father was up here?"
+
+"Yes," said he, "I wanted to see your father--I could not stay away
+from home any longer. I was so very lonely and unhappy--" Arthur
+stopped for a moment, and the girl paled slightly; as he saw it he
+continued rapidly: "There was no one there but the servant, and she
+gave me the letter."
+
+"And did she not tell you about me?" asked Helen.
+
+"I asked if you were married," Arthur said; "I would not listen to
+any more, for I could not bear it; when I had read the letter I came
+up here to look for my poor mother. I wanted to see her; I was as
+lonely as she ever was, and I wanted someone's sympathy--even that
+poor, beaten soul's. I heard in the town that she was dead; they
+told me where the grave was, and that was how I happened out here. I
+thought I would see it once before I left, and before the people who
+lived in this house were awake. Helen, when I saw _you_ I thought it
+was a ghost."
+
+"It is wonderful, Arthur," whispered the girl; "it is almost too
+much to believe--but, oh, I can't think of anything except how happy
+it will make David! I love him so, Arthur--and you will love him,
+too, you cannot help but love him."
+
+"Tell me about it all, Helen," the other answered; "I heard nothing,
+you know, about my poor mother's story."
+
+Before Helen answered the question she glanced about her at the
+morning landscape, and for the first time thought of the fact that
+it was cold. "Let us go inside," she said; "we can sit there and
+talk until David wakens." And the two stole in, Helen opening the
+door very softly. David was sleeping in the next room, so that it
+was possible not to disturb him; the two sat down before the
+flickering fire and conversed in low whispers. The girl told him the
+story of David's love, and told him all about David, and Arthur in
+turn told her how he had been living in the meantime; only because
+he saw how suddenly happy she was, and withal how nervous and
+overwrought, he said no more of his sufferings.
+
+And Helen had forgotten them utterly; it was pathetic to see her
+delight as she thought of being freed from the fearful terror that
+had haunted her,--she was like a little child in her relief. "He
+will be so happy--he will be so happy!" she whispered again and
+again. "We can all be so happy!" The thought that Arthur was
+actually David's son was so wonderful that she seemed never to be
+able to realize it fully, and every time she uttered the thought it
+was a sweep of the wings of her soul. Arthur had to tell her many
+times that it was actually Mary who had been named in that letter.
+
+So an hour or two passed by, and still David did not waken. Helen
+had crept to the door once or twice to listen to his quiet
+breathing; but each time, thinking of his long trial, she had
+whispered that she could not bear to disturb him yet. However, she
+was getting more and more impatient, and she asked Arthur again and
+again, "Don't you think I ought to wake him now, don't you think
+so--even if it is just for a minute, you know? For oh, he will be so
+glad--it will be like waking up in heaven!"
+
+So it went on until at last she could keep the secret no longer; she
+thought for a while, and then whispered, "I know what I will do--I
+will play some music and waken him in that way. That will not alarm
+him, and it will be beautiful."
+
+She went to the piano and sat down. "It will seem queer to be
+playing music at this hour," she whispered; but then she glanced at
+the clock and saw that it was nearly seven, and added, "Why, no, we
+have often begun by this time. You know, Arthur, we used to get up
+wonderfully early all summer, because it was so beautiful then, and
+we used to have music at all sorts of times. Oh, you cannot dream
+how happy we were,--you must wait until you see David, and then you
+will know why I love him so!"
+
+She stopped and sat thoughtfully for a moment whispering, "What
+shall I play?" Then she exclaimed, "I know, Arthur; I will play
+something that he loves very much--and that you used to love,
+too--something that is very soft and low and beautiful."
+
+Arthur had seated himself beside the piano and was gazing at her;
+the girl sat still for a moment more, gazing ahead of her and
+waiting for everything to be hushed. Then she began, so low as
+scarcely to be audible, the first movement of the wonderful
+"Moonlight Sonata."
+
+As it stole upon the air and swelled louder, she smiled, because it
+was so beautiful a way to waken David.
+
+And yet there are few things in music more laden with concentrated
+mournfulness than that sonata--with the woe that is too deep for
+tears; as the solemn beating of it continued, in spite of themselves
+the two found that they were hushed and silent. It brought back to
+Helen's mind all of David's suffering--it seemed to be the very
+breathing of his sorrow; and yet still she whispered on to herself,
+"He will waken; and then he will be happy!"
+
+In the next room David lay sleeping. At first it had been heavily,
+because he was exhausted, and afterwards, when the stupor had
+passed, restlessly and with pain. Then at last came the music,
+falling softly at first and blending with his dreaming, and
+afterwards taking him by the hand and leading him out into the land
+of reality, until he found himself lying and listening to it. As he
+recollected all that had happened he gave a slight start and sat up,
+wondering at the strangeness of Helen's playing then. He raised his
+head, and then rose to call her.
+
+And at that instant came the blow.
+
+The man suddenly gave a fearful start; he staggered back upon the
+sofa, clutching at his side with his hand, his face turning white,
+and a look of wild horror coming over it. For an instant he held
+himself up by the sofa, staring around him; and then he sank back,
+half upon the floor, his head falling backwards. And so he lay
+gasping, torn with agony, while the fearful music trod on, the
+relentless throbbing of it like a hammer upon his soul. Twice he
+strove to raise himself and failed; and twice he started to cry out,
+and checked himself in terror; and so it went on until the place of
+despair was reached, until there came that one note in the music
+that is the plunge into night. Helen stopped suddenly there, and
+everything was deathly still--except for the fearful heaving of
+David's bosom.
+
+That silence lasted for several moments; Helen seemed to be waiting
+and listening, and David's whole being was in suspense. Then
+suddenly he gave a start, for he heard the girl coming to the door.
+
+With a gasp of dread he half raised himself, grasping the sofa with
+his knotted hands. He slid down, half crawling and half falling,
+into the corner, where he crouched, breathless and shuddering; so he
+was when Helen came into the room.
+
+She did not see him on the sofa, and she gave a startled cry. She
+wheeled about and gazed around the room. "Where can he be?" she
+exclaimed. "He is not here!" and ran out to the piazza. Then came a
+still more anxious call: "David! David! Where are you?"
+
+And in the meantime David was still crouching in the corner, his
+face uplifted and torn with agony. He gave one fearful sob, and then
+he sank forward; drawing himself by the sheer force of his arms he
+crawled again into sight, and lay clinging to the sofa. Then he gave
+a faint gasping cry, "Helen!"
+
+And the girl heard it, and rushed to the door; she gave one glance
+at the prostrate form and at the white face, and then leaped forward
+with a shrill scream, a scream that echoed through the little house,
+and that froze Arthur's blood. She flung herself down on her knees
+beside her husband, crying "David! David!" And the man looked up at
+her with his ghastly face and his look of terror, and panted,
+"Helen--Helen, it has come!"
+
+She screamed again more wildly than before, and caught him to her
+bosom in frenzy. "No, no, David! No, no!" she cried out; but he only
+whispered hoarsely again, "It has come!"
+
+Meanwhile Arthur had rushed into the room, and the two lifted the
+sufferer up to the sofa, where he sank back and lay for a moment or
+two, half dazed; then, in answer to poor Helen's agonized pleading,
+he gazed at her once more.
+
+"David, David!" she sobbed, choking; "listen to me; it cannot be,
+David, no, no! And see, here is Arthur--Arthur! And David--he is
+your son, he is Mary's child!"
+
+The man gave a faint start and looked at her in bewilderment; then
+as she repeated the words again, "He is your son, he is Mary's
+child," gradually a look of wondering realization crossed his
+countenance, and he turned and stared up at Arthur.
+
+"Is it true?" he whispered hoarsely. "There is no doubt?"
+
+Helen answered him "Yes, yes," again and again, swiftly and
+desperately, as if thinking that the joy of it would restore his
+waning strength. The thought did bring a wonderful look of peace
+over David's face, as he gazed from one to the other and
+comprehended it all; he caught Arthur's arm in his trembling hands.
+"Oh, God be praised," he whispered, "it is almost too much. Oh, take
+care of her--take care of her for me!"
+
+The girl flung herself upon his bosom, sobbing madly; and David sank
+back and lay for an instant or two with his eyes shut, before at
+last her suffering roused him again. He lifted himself up on his
+elbows with a fearful effort. "Helen!" he whispered, in a deep,
+hollow voice; "listen to me--listen to me!--I have only a minute
+more to speak."
+
+The girl buried her head in his bosom with another cry, but he shook
+her back and caught her by the wrists, at the same time sitting
+erect, a strain that made the veins in his temples start out. "Look
+at me!" he gasped. "Look at me!" and as the girl stared into his
+eyes that were alive with the last frenzied effort of his soul, he
+went on, speaking with fierce swiftness and panting for breath
+between each phrase:
+
+"Helen--Helen--listen to me--twenty years I have kept myself alive
+on earth by such a struggle--by the power of a will that would not
+yield! And now there is but an instant more--an instant--I cannot
+bear it--except to save your soul! For I am going--do you hear
+me--going! And you must stay,--and you have the battle for your life
+to fight! Listen to me--look into my eyes,--for you must call up
+your powers--_now_--now before it is too late! You cannot shirk
+it--do you hear me? It is here!"
+
+And as the man was speaking the frenzied words the look of a tiger
+had come into his face; his eyes were starting from his head, and he
+held Helen's wrists in a grip that turned them black, tho then she
+did not feel the pain. She was gazing into his face, convulsed with
+fright; and the man gasped for breath once more, and then rushed on:
+
+"A fight like this conies once to a soul, Helen--and it wins or it
+loses--and you must win! Do you hear me?--_Win!_ I am dying, Helen,
+I am going--and I leave you to God, and to life. He is, He made
+you, and He demands your worship and your faith--that you hold your
+soul lord of all chances, that you make yourself master of your
+life! And now is your call--now! You clench your hands and you
+pray--it tears your heart-strings, and it bursts your brain--but you
+say that you will--that you will--that you _will!_ Oh, God, that I
+have left you so helpless--that I did not show you the peril of your
+soul! For you _must_ win--oh, if I could but find a word for you!
+For you stand upon the brink of ruin, and you have but an
+instant--but an instant to save yourself--to call up the vision of
+your faith before you, and tho the effort kill you, not to let it
+go! Girl, if you fail, no power of earth or heaven can save you from
+despair! And oh, have I lived with you for nothing--showed you no
+faith--given you no power? Helen, save me--have mercy upon me, I
+cannot stand this, and I dare not--I dare not die!"
+
+The man was leaning forward, gazing into the girl's face, his own
+countenance fearful to see. "I could die," he gasped; "I could die
+with a song--He has shown me His face--and He is good! But I dare
+not leave you--you--and I am going! Helen! Helen!"
+
+The man's fearful force seemed to have been acting upon the girl
+like magnetism, for tho the look of wild suffering had not left her
+face, she had raised herself and was staring into his burning eyes;
+then suddenly, with an effort that shook her frame she clenched her
+hands and gave a gasp for breath, and panted, scarcely audibly:
+"What--can--I--do?"
+
+David's head had sunk, but he mastered himself once more; and he
+whispered, "I leave you to God--I leave you to life! You can be a
+soul,--you can win--you _must_ win, you must _live_--and
+worship--and rejoice! You must kneel here--here, while I am going, never
+more to return; and you must know that you can never see me again, that
+I shall no longer exist; and you must cling to your faith in the God who
+made you, and praise Him for all that He does! And you will not shed a
+tear--not a tear!"
+
+And his grip tightened yet more desperately; he stared in one last
+wild appeal, and gasped again, "Promise me--not a tear!"
+
+And again the throbbing force of his soul roused the girl; she could
+not speak, she was choking; but she gave a sign of assent, and then
+all at once David's fearful hold relaxed. He gave one look more, one
+that stamped itself upon Helen's soul forever by its fearful
+intensity of yearning; and after it he breathed a sigh that seemed
+to pant out the last mite of strength in his frame, and sank
+backwards upon the sofa, with Helen still clinging to him.
+
+There for an instant or two he lay, breathing feebly; and the girl
+heard a faint whisper again--"Not a tear--not a tear!" He opened
+his eyes once more and gazed at her dimly, and then a slight
+trembling shook his frame. His chest heaved once more and sank, and
+after it everything was still.
+
+For an instant Helen stared at him, dazed; then she clutched him by
+the shoulders, whispering hoarsely-then calling louder and louder in
+frenzied terror, "David, David!" He gave no answer, and with a cry
+that was fearful to hear the girl clutched him to her. The body was
+limp and lifeless--the head fell forward as if the neck were
+broken; and Helen staggered backward with a scream.
+
+There came an instant of fierce agony then; she stood in the center
+of the room, reeling and swaying, clutching her head in her hands,
+her face upturned and tortured. And first she gasped, "He is dead!"
+and then "I shall not ever see him again!" And she choked and
+swallowed a lump in her throat, whispering in awful terror, "Not a
+tear--not a tear!" And then she flung up her arms and sank forward
+with an incoherent cry, and fell senseless into Arthur's arms.
+
+A week had passed since David's death; and Helen was in her father's
+home once more, sitting by the window in the gathering twilight. She
+was yery pale, and her eyes were sunken and hollow; but the beauty
+of her face was still there, tho in a strange and terrible way. Her
+hand was resting upon Arthur's, and she was gazing into his eyes and
+speaking in a deep, solemn voice.
+
+"It will not ever leave me, Arthur, I know it will not ever leave
+me; it is like a fearful vision that haunts me night and day, a
+voice that cries out in my soul and will not let me rest; and I know
+I shall never again be able to live like other people, never be free
+from its madness. For oh, I do not think it is often that a human
+soul sees what I saw--he seemed to drag me out into the land of
+death with him, into the very dwelling-place of God. And I almost
+went with him, Arthur, almost! Can you dream what I suffered--have
+you any idea of what it means to a human being to make such an
+effort? I loved that man as if he had been my own soul; I was bound
+to him so that he was all my life, and to have him go was like
+tearing my heart in two; and he had told me that I should never see
+him again, that there was nothing to look for beyond death. And yet,
+Arthur, I won--do you ever realize it?--I won. It seemed to me as if
+the earth were reeling about me--as if the very air I breathed were
+fire; and oh, I thought that he was dead--that he was gone from me
+forever, and I believed that I was going mad! And then, Arthur,
+those awful words of his came ringing through my mind, 'Not a tear,
+not a tear!' I had no faith, I could see nothing but that the world
+was black with horror; and yet I heard those words! It was love--it
+was even fear, I think, that held me to it; I had worshiped his
+sacredness, I had given all my soul to the wonder of his soul; and I
+dared not be false to him--I dared not dishonor him,--and I knew
+that he had told me that grief was a crime, that there was truth in
+the world that I might cling to. And oh, Arthur, I won it--I won it!
+I kept the faith--David's faith; and it is still alive upon the
+earth. It seems to me almost as if I had won his soul from death--as
+if I had saved his spirit in mine-as if I could still rejoice in his
+life, still have his power and his love; and there is a kind of
+fearful consecration in my heart, a glory that I am afraid to know
+of, as if God's hand had been laid upon me.
+
+"David used to tell me, Arthur, that if only that power is roused in
+a soul, if only it dwells in that sacredness, there can no longer be
+fear or evil in its life; that the strife and the vanity and the
+misery in this cruel world about us come from nothing else but that
+men do not know this vision, that it is so hard--so dreadfully
+hard--to win. And he used to say that this power is infinite, that
+it depends only upon how much one wants it; and that he who
+possessed it had the gift of King Midas, and turned all things that
+he touched to gold. That is real madness to me, Arthur, and will not
+let me be still; and yet I know that it cannot ever die in me; for
+whenever there is an instant's weakness there flashes over me again
+the fearful thought of David, that he is gone back into nothingness,
+that nowhere can I ever see him, ever hear his voice or speak to him
+again,-that I am alone-alone! And that makes me clench my hands and
+nerve my soul, and fight again, and still again! Arthur, I did that
+for days, and did not once know why-only because David had told me
+to, because I was filled with a fearful terror of proving a coward
+soul, because I had heard him say that if one only held the faith
+and prayed, the word would come to him at last. And it was true--it
+was true, Arthur; it was like the tearing apart of the skies, it was
+as if I had rent my way through them. I saw, as I had never dreamed
+I could see when I heard David speak of it, how God's Presence is
+infinite and real; how it guides the blazing stars, and how our life
+is but an instant and is nothing beside it; and how it makes no
+difference that we pass into nothingness--His glory is still the
+same. Then I saw too what a victory I had won, Arthur,--how I could
+live in it, and how I was free, and master of my life; there came
+over me a feeling for which there is no word, a kind of demon force
+that was madness. I thought of that wonderful sixth chapter of
+Isaiah that David used to think so much beyond reading, that he used
+to call the artist's chapter; and oh, I knew just what it was that I
+had to do in the world!"
+
+Helen had been speaking very intensely, her voice shaking; the
+other's gaze was riveted upon her face. "Arthur," she added, her
+voice sinking to a whisper, "I have no art, but you have; and we
+must fight together for this fearful glory, we must win this prize
+of God." And for a long time the two sat in silence, trembling,
+while the darkness gathered about them. Helen had turned her head,
+and gazed out, with face uplifted, at the starry shield that
+quivered and shook above them; suddenly Arthur saw her lips moving
+again, and heard her speaking the wonderful words that she had
+referred to,--her voice growing more and more intense, and sinking
+into a whisper of awe:--
+
+"In the year that King Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon
+a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.
+
+"Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he
+covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain
+he did fly.
+
+"And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord
+of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.
+
+"And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and
+the house was filled with smoke.
+
+"Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of
+unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips:
+for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.
+
+"Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a living coal in his
+hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar:
+
+"And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy
+lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.
+
+"Also I heard the Voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and
+who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of King Midas, by Upton Sinclair
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