Part 24 (1/2)

”There is Robert”--Mrs. Thornton spoke again--”I am sure he will do as I have asked him to do about this, but--you can have a great deal of influence with him. It--it perhaps may seem a strange thing to say, but I pray that you two may be brought very close to each other. Robert needs a good, true woman so much in his life--and I--we--we--my illness--we have never had a home in its truest sense. Yes, it is strange for me perhaps to talk like this--but it is in my heart. I would like to think of you both engaged in this wonderful work together.”

Again, through exhaustion, Mrs. Thornton stopped--and Helena, from gazing at the other's pallid countenance in a sort of involuntary, frightened fascination, dropped her head suddenly upon the bed-spread and hid her face.

Mrs. Thornton's hand found Helena's head and rested upon it.

”I would like to see Robert happy,” she murmured, after a little silence. ”Riches do not make happiness--they are so sad and empty a thing when the heart is empty. I know he would be happy with you--he has spoken so much of you lately--perhaps--perhaps--”

Mrs. Thornton's voice was very faint--the words reached Helena plainly enough as words, but they seemed to reach her consciousness in an unreal, unnatural, blunted way, coma-like--pregnant of significance, yet with the significance itself elusive, evading her.

”A good woman,” whispered Mrs. Thornton, ”I have tried to be a good woman--but--but my life, our wealth, our position has made it so artificial. You have never known these things, dear--and so you are just as G.o.d made you--good woman, so pure, so wonderful in your freshness and your innocence. Robert's life has been so barren--so barren. I would like to know that--that it will not always be so. Oh, if it could only be that you and he should carry on this great, glad work together--and love should come into his life--and yours--and suns.h.i.+ne--promise me, dear, that--”

The voice died away. Helena, with head still buried, waited for Mrs.

Thornton to speak again. It seemed she waited for a great length of time--and yet there was no such thing as time. It seemed as though she were transported to a place of great and intense blackness where it was miserably cold and chill, and she stood alone and lost, and strove to find her way--and there was no way--only blackness everywhere, immeasurable. She lifted her head suddenly, desperately, to shake the unreality from her--and her eyes fell upon the gentle face, peaceful, smiling, calm, and so _still_--and a startled, frightened cry rang from her lips.

There was the quick, hurried rush of some one coming into the room, and the nurse brushed by her and bent instantly over the bed--after that, quite soon after that it seemed, and yet it might have been quite a little while, she found herself outside in the corridor and the nurse was speaking to her.

”Sam is still out there,” said Miss Harvey gently. ”I told him to keep the team. You cannot help me, and I want you to go home, dear. And will you ask Sam to go for Mr. Madison at the hotel on the way back--I do not know who else I can call upon for advice.”

”I've sent for him already,” said Helena numbly.

”Have you, dear?” Miss Harvey said. ”That was very thoughtful of you--I'm sure he'll be here presently then. And now, dear, it is much better that you should go.”

There were no tears in Helena's eyes as she stepped down from the car vestibule to the tracks--only a drawn misery in her face. That was Doc over there, pacing up and down on the platform in the darkness--wasn't it weird the way his cigar glowed bright and then went out and then glowed bright again--like a gigantic firefly!

She was across the tracks before he saw her, then, hurrying forward, he helped her to the platform.

”Well?” he asked quickly.

Helena did not answer.

Madison took the cigar from his lips, leaned forward, and peered into Helena's face--then drew back with a low whistle.

”Dead?” he said.

Helena nodded.

”Miss Harvey wants to see you,” she said.

”Say,” said Madison slowly, ”first crack out of the box this looks bad, don't it? If this gets around here without a m.u.f.fler on it, it might make the railroad companies hang fire with those circulars for excursion rates to Needley--what?”

”I--I think I hate you!” Helena cried out suddenly, pa.s.sionately.

”She's--she's dead--and that's all you think about!”

Madison stared at Helena for a moment calmly.

”Now, look here, Helena,” said he quietly, ”don't get excited. Of course I'm sorry--I'm not a brute and I've got feelings--but I can't afford to lose my head. Something's got to be done, and done quick. We don't want this headlined in every paper in the United States to-morrow morning--Thornton wouldn't want it either. You say Miss Harvey wants to see me? Well, that'll help some--she'll probably do as she's told, and--”

Madison paused abruptly, gazed abstractedly at the private car across the tracks on the siding, and pulled at his cigar.