Part 35 (1/2)

”Why not?”

Helena lifted her head, suddenly, ”It would take twenty-five minutes-- I'm sure it would.”

She got up and walked a little way down the road, David tagging thoughtfully behind her. There was no stage in sight. ”David, run down the hill to the turn, and look.”

The little boy, nothing loath, ran, at the turn he shook his head, and called back, ”No'm. Mrs. Richie, He _must_, 'cause there's nothing goes to heaven but us. Chickens don't,” he explained anxiously. But she did not notice his alarm.

”I'll wait another five minutes,” she said. She waited ten; and then another ten. ”David,” she said, in a smothered voice, ”go; tell Maggie he isn't coming--to dinner. You have your dinner, dear little boy.

I--don't want any.”

She went up-stairs to her own room, and shut and locked the door. All was over....

Yet when, in the early afternoon, the mail arrived, she had a pang of hope that was absolute agony, for he had written.

There were only a dozen lines besides the ”Dearest Nelly”:

”I am just starting out West, rather unexpectedly, on business. I am taking Alice along, and she is greatly delighted at the idea of a journey--her first. I don't know just when I'll get back; not for six weeks anyhow. Probably eight. Hope you and your youngster are all right.

”Yours, L. P.

”Your despatch received. We must talk things over the next time I come to Old Chester.”

She pa.s.sed her hand over her eyes in a bewildered way; for a moment the words had absolutely no sense. Then she read them again: ”We must talk things Over--”

What things? Why, their marriage, of course! Their marriage? She burst out laughing; and David, looking at her, shrank away.

CHAPTER XXII

The next few days were intolerable. But of course, after the first pa.s.sion of disappointment, she began to hope; he would write fully in a few days. She kept calculating how soon she might expect this fuller letter. She did not write to him, for as he had given no address it was evident that he did not wish to hear from her.

That week pa.s.sed, and then another, and though he wrote, he did not write ”fully.” In fact, he made no allusion whatever to Frederick, or the future. Helena was instant with explanation: he was absorbed with business; Alice was with him; he had no time. That these were absurd excuses she knew. But they were the best she could find, and she had to have excuses. It was at this time that she saw herself age. When still another week pa.s.sed, the tension lessened; indeed, she would have broken down under the strain if she had not fallen into a sort of apathy. She told herself that after all there was no reason why she should leave Old Chester immediately. Mr. Benjamin Wright's insolence had been outrageous and he was a horrible old man; but he had said that he would not speak of her affairs. So as far as he was concerned she could perfectly well wait until that Western trip was over; she would just try not to think of him. So she played with David, and talked to him, and listened to his confidences about the journey to Philadelphia which Dr. Lavendar planned. It was more than two months off, but that did not trouble David. He and Dr. Lavendar had long talks on the subject, of which, occasionally, the little boy dropped condescending hints.

”Maybe I'll take you to Philadelphia,” Helena said once, jealously; ”will you like that?”

”Yes'm,” said David, without enthusiasm.

At which she reproached him; ”I should think you would like to go with me, to see Liberty Bell?”

Silence.

”And maybe Mr. Pryor will take you to ride on a steamboat,” she lured him.

”I like Dr. Lavendar best,” said David, with alarm.

It was only David with whom Helena talked in these days of waiting; Old Chester found her still unsociable, and William King was obliged to admit that his party had not accomplished much. However, he insisted upon being sociable himself, and continued to come frequently to see her on the ground that she was not very well. Before she knew it she yielded again to the temptation of friendliness, and was glad to see the big, kind figure trudging up the garden path. He told her all the news Old Chester afforded, which was not extensive, and she replied with that listening silence which is so pleasant and that gave the doctor the opportunity--so valued by us all--of hearing himself talk; an opportunity not often allowed him in his own house. The silence covered bleak anxiety and often an entire absence of mind; but William, rambling on, could not know that. He was perfectly happy to look at her, although sometimes his face sobered, for hers had changed. It was paler; the delicate oval of her cheek had hollowed; the charming indolence had gone; the eyes had lost their sweet shallowness, something cowered in their depths that he could not clearly see--fear, perhaps, or pain. Or perhaps it was her soul.

Sometimes when the body relaxes its grip a little, the convict soul within struggles up to look with frightened bewilderment out of the windows of its prison. Dr. King watching the childlike droop of Helena's lip, admitted reluctantly that she had changed. ”Depressed,”

he told himself. So he did his best to cheer her with Old Chester's harmless gossip; and one day--it was in September--she did show a quick and even anxious interest.