Chapter VI
FAIR HELEN
To no one but her mother and Hester did Lillian confide the discoveryshe had made. None of the former servants but old Bedford remained withthem, and till Paul chose to renew the old friendship it was best toremain silent. Great was the surprise and delight of our lady and Hesterat the good fortune of their protege, and many the conjectures as to howhe would explain his hasty flight.
"You will go and see him, won't you, Mamma, or at least inquire abouthim?" said Lillian, eager to assure the wanderer of a welcome, for thosefew words of his had satisfied her entirely.
"No, dear, it is for him to seek us, and till he does, I shall make nosign. He knows where we are, and if he chooses he can renew theacquaintance so strangely broken off. Be patient, and above all thingsremember, Lillian, that you are no longer a child," replied my lady,rather disturbed by her daughter's enthusiastic praises of Paul.
"I wish I was, for then I might act as I feel, and not be afraid ofshocking the proprieties." And Lillian went to bed to dream of her hero.
For three days she stayed at home, expecting Paul, but he did not come,and she went out for her usual ride in the Park, hoping to meet him. Anelderly groom now rode behind her, and she surveyed him with extremedisgust, as she remembered the handsome lad who had once filled thatplace. Nowhere did Paul appear, but in the Ladies' Mile she passed anelegant brougham in which sat a very lovely girl and a mild old lady.
"That is Talbot's fiancee," said Maud Churchill, who had joined her."Isn't she beautiful?"
"Not at all--yes, very," was Lillian's somewhat peculiar reply, forjealousy and truth had a conflict just then. "He's so perfectly absorbedand devoted that I am sure that story is true, so adieu to our hopes,"laughed Maud.
"Did you have any? Good-bye, I must go." And Lillian rode home at a pacewhich caused the stout groom great distress.
"Mamma, I've seen Paul's betrothed!" she cried, running into hermother's boudoir.
"And I have seen Paul himself," replied my lady, with a warning look,for there he stood, with half-extended hand, as if waiting to beacknowledged.
Lillian forgot her embarrassment in her pleasure, and made him anelaborate curtsy, saying, with a half-merry, half-reproachful glance,"Mr. Talbot is welcome in whatever guise he appears."
"I choose to appear as Paul, then, and offer you a seat, Miss Lillian,"he said, assuming as much of his boyish manner as he could.
Lillian took it and tried to feel at ease, but the difference betweenthe lad she remembered and the man she now saw was too great to beforgotten.
"Now tell us your adventures, and why you vanished away so mysteriouslyfour years ago," she said, with a touch of the childish imperiousness inher voice, though her frank eyes fell before his.
"I was about to do so when you appeared with news concerning my cousin,"he began.
"Your cousin!" exclaimed Lillian.
"Yes, Helen's mother and my own were sisters. Both married Englishmen,both died young, leaving us to care for each other. We were like abrother and sister, and always together till I left her to serve ColonelDaventry. The death of the old priest to whom I entrusted her recalledme to Genoa, for I was then her only guardian. I meant to have takenleave of you, my lady, properly, but the consequences of that foolishtrick of mine frightened me away in the most unmannerly fashion."
"Ah, it was you, then, in the state chamber; I always thought so," andLady Trevlyn drew a long breath of relief.
"Yes, I heard it whispered among the servants that the room was haunted,and I felt a wish to prove the truth of the story and my own courage.Hester locked me in, for fear of my sleepwalking; but I lowered myselfby a rope and then climbed in at the closet window of the state chamber.When you came, my lady, I thought it was Hester, and slipped into thebed, meaning to give her a fright in return for her turning the key onme. But when your cry showed me what I had done, I was filled withremorse, and escaped as quickly and quietly as possible. I should haveasked pardon before; I do now, most humbly, my lady, for it wassacrilege to play pranks _there_."
During the first part of his story Paul's manner had been frank andcomposed, but in telling the latter part, his demeanor underwent acurious change. He fixed his eyes on the ground and spoke as ifrepeating a lesson, while his color varied, and a half-proud,half-submissive expression replaced the former candid one. Lillianobserved this, and it disturbed her, but my lady took it for shame athis boyish freak and received his confession kindly, granting a freepardon and expressing sincere pleasure at his amended fortunes. As helistened, Lillian saw him clench his hand hard and knit his brows,assuming the grim look she had often seen, as if trying to steel himselfagainst some importunate emotion or rebellious thought.
"Yes, half my work is done, and I have a home, thanks to my generousbenefactor, and I hope to enjoy it well and wisely," he said in a gravetone, as if the fortune had not yet brought him his heart's desire.
"And when is the other half of the work to be accomplished, Paul? Thatdepends on your cousin, perhaps." And Lady Trevlyn regarded him with agleam of womanly curiosity in her melancholy eyes.
"It does, but not in the way you fancy, my lady. Whatever Helen may be,she is not my fiancee yet, Miss Lillian." And the shadow lifted as helaughed, looking at the young lady, who was decidedly abashed, in spiteof a sense of relief caused by his words.
"I merely accepted the world's report," she said, affecting a nonchalantair.
"The world is a liar, as you will find in time" was his abrupt reply.
"I hope to see this beautiful cousin, Paul. Will she receive us as oldfriends of yours?"
"Thanks, not yet, my lady. She is still too much a stranger here toenjoy new faces, even kind ones. I have promised perfect rest andfreedom for a time, but you shall be the first whom she receives."
Again Lillian detected the secret disquiet which possessed him, and hercuriosity was roused. It piqued her that this Helen felt no desire tomeet her and chose to seclude herself, as if regardless of the interestand admiration she excited. "I _will_ see her in spite of her refusal,for I only caught a glimpse in the Park. Something is wrong, and I'lldiscover it, for it evidently worries Paul, and perhaps I can help him."
As this purpose sprang up in the warm but willful heart of the girl, sheregained her spirits and was her most charming self while the young manstayed. They talked of many things in a pleasant, confidential manner,though when Lillian recalled that hour, she was surprised to find howlittle Paul had really told them of his past life or future plans. Itwas agreed among them to say nothing of their former relations, exceptto old Bedford, who was discretion itself, but to appear to the world asnew-made friends--thus avoiding unpleasant and unnecessary explanationswhich would only excite gossip. My lady asked him to dine, but he hadbusiness out of town and declined, taking his leave with a lingeringlook, which made Lillian steal away to study her face in the mirror andwonder if she looked her best, for in Paul's eyes she had readundisguised admiration.
Lady Trevlyn went to her room to rest, leaving the girl free to ride,drive, or amuse herself as she liked. As if fearing her courage wouldfail if she delayed, Lillian ordered the carriage, and, bidding Hestermount guard over her, she drove away to St. John's Wood.
"Now, Hester, don't lecture or be prim when I tell you that we are goingon a frolic," she began, after getting the old woman into an amiablemood by every winning wile she could devise. "I think you'll like it,and if it's found out I'll take the blame. There is some mystery aboutPaul's cousin, and I'm going to find it out."
"Bless you, child, how?"
"She lives alone here, is seldom seen, and won't go anywhere or receiveanyone. That's not natural in a pretty girl. Paul won't talk about her,and, though he's fond of her, he always looks grave and grim when I askquestions. That's provoking, and I won't hear it. Maud is engaged toRaleigh, you know; well, he confided to her that he and a friend hadfound out where Helen was, had gone to the next villa, which is empty,and under pretense of looking at it go
t a peep at the girl in hergarden. I'm going to do the same."
"And what am _I_ to do?" asked Hester, secretly relishing the prank,for she was dying with curiosity to behold Paul's cousin.
"You are to do the talking with the old woman, and give me a chance tolook. Now say you will, and I'll behave myself like an angel in return."
Hester yielded, after a few discreet scruples, and when they reachedLaburnum Lodge played her part so well that Lillian soon managed tostray away into one of the upper rooms which overlooked the neighboringgarden. Helen was there, and with eager eyes the girl scrutinized her.She was very beautiful, in the classical style; as fair and finelymolded as a statue, with magnificent dark hair and eyes, and possessedof that perfect grace which is as effective as beauty. She was alone,and when first seen was bending over a flower which she caressed andseemed to examine with great interest as she stood a long timemotionless before it. Then she began to pace slowly around and aroundthe little grass plot, her hands hanging loosely clasped before her, andher eyes fixed on vacancy as if absorbed in thought. But as the firsteffect of her beauty passed away, Lillian found something peculiar abouther. It was not the somewhat foreign dress and ornaments she wore; itwas in her face, her movements, and the tone of her voice, for as shewalked she sang a low, monotonous song, as if unconsciously. Lillianwatched her keenly, marking the aimless motions of the little hands, theapathy of the lovely face, and the mirthless accent of the voice; butmost of all the vacant fixture of the great dark eyes. Around and aroundshe went, with an elastic step and a mechanical regularity wearisome towitness.
What is the matter with her? thought Lillian anxiously, as this painfulimpression increased with every scrutiny of the unconscious girl. Soabashed was she that Hester's call was unheard, and Hester was unseen asshe came and stood beside her. Both looked a moment, and as they lookedan old lady came from the house and led Helen in, still murmuring hermonotonous song and moving her hands as if to catch and hold thesunshine.
"Poor dear, poor dear. No wonder Paul turns sad and won't talk of her,and that she don't see anyone," sighed Hester pitifully.
"What is it? I see, but don't understand," whispered Lillian.
"She's an innocent, deary, an idiot, though that's a hard word for apretty creature like her."
"How terrible! Come away, Hester, and never breathe to anyone what wehave seen." And with a shudder and sense of pain and pity lying heavy ather heart, she hurried away, feeling doubly guilty in the discovery ofthis affliction. The thought of it haunted her continually; the memoryof the lonely girl gave her no peace; and a consciousness of deceitburdened her unspeakably, especially in Paul's presence. This lasted fora week, then Lillian resolved to confess, hoping that when he found sheknew the truth he would let her share his cross and help to lighten it.Waiting her opportunity, she seized a moment when her mother was absent,and with her usual frankness spoke out impetuously.
"Paul, I've done wrong, and I can have no peace till I am pardoned. Ihave seen Helen."
"Where, when, and how?" he asked, looking disturbed and yet relieved.
She told him rapidly, and as she ended she looked up at him with hersweet face, so full of pity, shame, and grief it would have beenimpossible to deny her anything.
"Can you forgive me for discovering this affliction?"
"I think I could forgive you a far greater fault, Lillian," he answered,in a tone that said many things.
"But deceit is so mean, so dishonorable and contemptible, how can you soeasily pardon it in me?" she asked, quite overcome by this forgiveness,granted without any reproach.
"Then you would find it hard to pardon such a thing in another?" hesaid, with the expression that always puzzled her.
"Yes, it would be hard; but in those I loved, I could forgive much forlove's sake."
With a sudden gesture he took her hand saying, impulsively, "How littlechanged you are! Do you remember that last ride of ours nearly fiveyears ago?"
"Yes, Paul," she answered, with averted eyes.
"And what we talked of?"
"A part of that childish gossip I remember well."
"Which part?"
"The pretty little romance you told me." And Lillian looked up now,longing to ask if Helen's childhood had been blighted like her youth.
Paul dropped her hand as if he, read her thoughts, and his own hand wentinvoluntarily toward his breast, betraying that the locket still hungthere.
"What did I say?" he asked, smiling at her sudden shyness.
"You vowed you'd win and wed your fair little lady-love if you lived."
"And so I will," he cried, with sudden fire in his eyes.
"What, marry her?"
"Aye, that I will."
"Oh Paul, will you tie yourself for life to a--" The word died on herlips, but a gesture of repugnance finished the speech.
"A what?" he demanded, excitedly.
"An innocent, one bereft of reason," stammered Lillian, entirelyforgetting herself in her interest for him.
"Of whom do you speak?" asked Paul, looking utterly bewildered,
"Of poor Helen."
"Good heavens, who told you that base lie?" And his voice deepened withindignant pain.
"I saw her, you did not deny her affliction; Hester said so, and Ibelieved it. Have I wronged her, Paul?"
"Yes, cruelly. She is blind, but no idiot, thank God."
There was such earnestness in his voice, such reproach in his words, andsuch ardor in his eye, that Lillian's pride gave way, and with a brokenentreaty for pardon, she covered up her face, weeping the bitteresttears she ever shed. For in that moment, and the sharp pang it broughther, she felt how much she loved Paul and how hard it was to lose him.The childish affection had blossomed into a woman's passion, and in afew short weeks had passed through many phases of jealousy, hope,despair, and self-delusion. The joy she felt on seeing him again, thepride she took in him, the disgust Helen caused her, the relief she hadnot dared to own even to herself, when she fancied fate had put aninsurmountable barrier between Paul and his cousin, the despair atfinding it only a fancy, and the anguish of hearing him declare hisunshaken purpose to marry his first love--all these conflicting emotionshad led to this hard moment, and now self-control deserted her in herneed. In spite of her efforts the passionate tears would have their way,though Paul soothed her with assurances of entire forgiveness, promisesof Helen's friendship, and every gentle device he could imagine. Shecommanded herself at last by a strong effort, murmuring eagerly as sheshrank from the hand that put back her fallen hair, and the face so fullof tender sympathy bending over her:
"I am so grieved and ashamed at what I have said and done. I shall neverdare to see Helen. Forgive me, and forget this folly. I'm sad andheavyhearted just now; it's the anniversary of Papa's death, and Mammaalways suffers so much at such times that I get nervous."
"It is your birthday also. I remembered it, and ventured to bring alittle token in return for the one you gave me long ago. This is atalisman, and tomorrow I will tell you the legend concerning it. Wear itfor my sake, and God bless you, dear."
The last words were whispered hurriedly; Lillian saw the glitter of anantique ring, felt the touch of bearded lips on her hand, and Paul wasgone.
But as he left the house he set his teeth, exclaiming low to himself,"Yes, tomorrow there shall be an end of this! We must risk everythingand abide the consequences now. I'll have no more torment for any ofus."