My Dear Miss Lawrence:It is with deep regret I write you that theVortexhas been ordered up the Sound to survey a certain locality. Most unfortunately,our orders came very late. We have only just time to catch the tide by weighing anchor at once. I do not know whether you realize how great is my disappointment at leaving Hetherford, or how great is my regret at not seeing you before I go. Our stay, I trust, will not extend beyond a week, and I look forward with great pleasure to the time when we once more cast anchor in your harbor. I shall be anxious for news of little Gladys, and if I did not fear to presume, I should ask you to write me. Perhaps your goodness of heart will prompt you to forgive and indulge me at the same time. My address will be F——, which is the post-office nearest to our anchorage.Yours faithfully,Valentine Farr.
My Dear Miss Lawrence:
It is with deep regret I write you that theVortexhas been ordered up the Sound to survey a certain locality. Most unfortunately,our orders came very late. We have only just time to catch the tide by weighing anchor at once. I do not know whether you realize how great is my disappointment at leaving Hetherford, or how great is my regret at not seeing you before I go. Our stay, I trust, will not extend beyond a week, and I look forward with great pleasure to the time when we once more cast anchor in your harbor. I shall be anxious for news of little Gladys, and if I did not fear to presume, I should ask you to write me. Perhaps your goodness of heart will prompt you to forgive and indulge me at the same time. My address will be F——, which is the post-office nearest to our anchorage.
Yours faithfully,Valentine Farr.
Jean raised her eyes and let them rest on the group of people outside the doorway. No one, apparently, had a thought for her; for Miss Stuart had discreetly withdrawn her gaze, and they one and all seemed absorbed in the merry conversation. She longed to slip away to her own room, that she might be alone with her happy thoughts, but paused, irresolute, wondering, as she crumpled the note in her hand, if it would be unpardonably rude to leave her guests thus abruptly. Helen came to her rescue.
"Jean, will you please go up and see if Gladys is asleep?"
Jean nodded her head in assent, and gladly disappeared. Eleanor looked after her with a kindly smile, yet she sighed a little, notwithstanding.
"What would Nan do if she knew this?" she thought.
Shortly afterward a servant came to the door, bringing word that Miss Gladys was sleeping soundly, andthat Miss Jean begged to be excused, as she had a headache.
In the night the rain fell heavily, and the rising wind sighed and sobbed like a child in pain, but Jean's dreams were sweet, and her last sleeping and first waking thoughts were of Valentine Farr.
The days that followed were the quietest that this summer had brought to Hetherford. Not only had theVortexgone, but Wendell and Churchill had carried the other men off on theSylphfor a long-planned fishing excursion, and the girls were left to their own devices. This was too common an occurrence to be looked upon as a great hardship; yet it was quite obvious, even to Nan, that they did not revel so much in their once treasured independence, and that the old-time simple pleasures had somehow lost their zest. There was something strangely amiss in the little colony. Jean, who had always been depended upon to set the ball rolling, and to keep everyone in good spirits, failed them utterly. She was so quiet and absent-minded, so unlike her usual self, that Eleanor began to fear that her surmises in regard to the letter had been incorrect after all. Miss Stuart's presence at the manor acted as a great restraint upon everybody. She did not adapt herself in the least to their quiet, humdrum existence, and maintained a stoical silence that was especially irritating. The weather was very depressing. A fine drizzling rain fell persistently, the sky was gray and leaden, and the roads and lanes were almost impassable with the mud. Thedampness retarded Gladys' recovery, and she was fractious and troublesome. Poor Helen was in despair, for Miss Stuart was unreasonable enough to resent her spending so much time in the nursery, and took small pains to conceal the fact that she was almost bored to death.
By Friday Aunt Helen was seriously fretting over her niece, for Helen was looking pale and tired and seemed quite incapable of coping with the anxieties of housekeeping, Gladys, and the entertainment of her difficult friend.
On the afternoon of this day the rain ceased and Nathalie, in despair of any more interesting amusement, declared her intention to drive to the station to see the express arrive.
"Not that anyone ever comes here," she said dolorously as she drew on her driving gloves.
An hour later she burst into the drawing-room, her face radiant, her eyes twinkling. Helen sat before the low tea-table serving tea, Miss Stuart lounged in a huge armchair, while Jean was on her way between the tea-table and Miss Stuart, with a dainty cup in her hand. She paused, and looked expectantly at Nathalie.
"Well, cheer up, girls, for I have some news at last. Who do you think arrived to-day?"
Even Miss Stuart leaned forward in her chair, and lost something of her air of languor.
"Don't ask tiresome riddles, Nathalie," pleaded Jean, "but tell us."
"Mrs. Archer."
Miss Stuart looked blank; Helen laughed softly,and Jean handed Miss Stuart her cup of tea with a disgusted expression on her bonny face.
"You must, indeed, be in the depths to call that good news," she said scornfully.
"I didn't say good news. I said news," Nathalie retorted triumphantly, "and in any case I think Mrs. Archer is a godsend after the monotony of the last few days."
Miss Stuart smiled faintly for Nathalie, but echoed her sentiments.
"I think Cliff's mother is a charming woman," interposed Helen. "She is somewhat overbearing and imposing, but I know she does not mean to be disagreeable."
"I like her," maintained Nathalie. "She is so worldly, so thoroughly magnificent."
Jean laughed and meekly took her cup of tea from Helen.
"I have not another word to say. I suppose the truth is that I am mortally afraid of Mrs. Archer. She completely subdues me."
After a moment she spoke again, from the comfortable place she had taken on the divan:
"Do you know, Nathalie, just for one moment I thought it might have been Guy of whom you were speaking."
Helen set the teapot down suddenly, and there was a moment's uncomfortable silence. Miss Stuart let her glance travel slowly from Helen's flushed face to Jean's grave one.
"Are you speaking of Mr. Appleton?" she asked lazily.
"Yes," replied Jean, with perfect unconsciousness, "I suppose you met him at the same time you did Helen. I wish it had been he instead of Mrs. Archer."
Miss Stuart shrugged her shoulders, and answered with insolent disregard of Jean's evident affection for Guy:
"A nice enough man in his way, but so deadly uninteresting, so lacking in that knowledge of the world which alone makes a man worth talking to."
Jean's eyes flashed, and her voice trembled with anger.
"Mr. Appleton is a very dear friend of ours, Miss Stuart, and to none of us is it agreeable to hear him spoken ill of."
She looked impulsively across at Helen, feeling sure that her sister would speak some word of vindication of Guy, but the girl's head was bent and she seemed wholly occupied in pushing the tea-cups aimlessly about on the polished surface of the mahogany tea-table. For the first time in her life Jean felt a contempt for her sister, and pressed her lips tightly together to keep down the bitter words that rose to them. Nathalie, who hated a scene above all things, and yet was too thoroughly in sympathy with Jean to feel equal to changing the conversation, sat down at the piano and began to drum.
Miss Stuart looked from one to the other and laughed unpleasantly.
"Mr. Appleton should be proud of such an ardent champion."
Jean made no answer. She finished her tea insilence and then left the room, followed by a sneering glance from Miss Stuart's eyes.
That evening Mrs. Andrews and her sister, Mrs. Archer, called at the manor. The young people had taken advantage of the first clear evening since Miss Stuart's arrival and had gone for a walk, so Mrs. Dennis asked her guests up to her room. During the conversation Mrs. Andrews said:
"How badly Helen is looking lately."
Aunt Helen agreed with her and related to Mrs. Archer the facts of Gladys' accident, and dilated upon Helen's untiring devotion to her little sister.
"She is worn out," she sighed in conclusion, "and it is so hard for her to have Miss Stuart here just at present."
"You don't mean Lillian Stuart, that beautiful girl about whom everyone is raving?" exclaimed Mrs. Archer, roused to a degree of interest she rarely felt when in Hetherford.
"I suppose it is the same. She is certainly very beautiful, but somehow," and Aunt Helen's face grew puzzled, "she doesn't seem at all the kind of girl my Helen should care for. However, they are close friends, so I——"
"Oh, she is a great belle," Mrs. Archer interrupted brusquely. "Poor girl! What in the world does she do with herself in this out-of-the-way place?"
Mrs. Andrews replied with some heat:
"She must be very hard to please if she cannot find anything to amuse or interest her here."
A gleam of amusement flashed into Aunt Helen's eyes, but was instantly suppressed. Hetherford wasthe basis of an old feud between the sisters, and had been the cause of more than one bitter quarrel. Mrs. Archer was a fashionable woman to the tips of her fingers, and for years she had striven to impress her easy-going sister with the importance of society, and to persuade her at least to spend her summers in some resort more frequented by the world of society. Mrs. Andrews, however, stood out against her and stoutly maintained that she and her children were perfectly happy where they were, and Mrs. Archer had to content herself with an occasional visit from her niece Mollie, who was eminently unsatisfactory as a fashionable girl. To crown her displeasure, her only son Clifford, instead of finding pleasure in his charming home at Newport, insisted upon spending the summer at Hetherford Inn, and Mrs. Archer bore a great grudge against this small place. She was a very hospitable woman, and enjoyed keeping open house, but she found it a great drawback to have no young person at home.
As she rose to leave, it suddenly occurred to her that it would be very delightful to take two of the girls back to Newport with her. Her choice fell upon Helen, because in that way she could include Miss Stuart in the invitation. Mrs. Dennis met the suggestion with approval, for she knew it would do Helen good to get away from home for a few days, and that so pleasant a change would please Miss Stuart. In the midst of the discussion, the two girls walked into the room.
Mrs. Archer's shrewd, worldly eyes took in every detail of Miss Stuart's beautiful face and faultlessgown, and she instantly dropped the somewhat patronizing tone she had used toward Helen, and urged their acceptance with great cordiality. Helen hesitated, for she was loath to leave Gladys again, but Aunt Helen and Miss Stuart overruled all her objections, and it was agreed that they should accompany Mrs. Archer.
The quiet that settled down over the manor after their departure was very grateful to Jean, who during the past week had been disturbed and harassed. She knew that she was fast approaching the most serious crisis of her life. All during these joyous summer days she had drifted on so happily, evading self-questionings, living only for the day. Now she realized that the drifting was at an end. On his return Valentine Farr would speak to her, and although she had no doubt as to the answer she would give him, yet she trembled a little and would fain have been alone with her secret. And now, when she would have had her whole mind dominated by this one thought, Miss Stuart's unwelcome presence in the house thrust other and less pleasant thoughts upon her. Up to the time of this last visit Jean's dislike of Miss Stuart had been a vague, passing sentiment, which had concerned her but little. She had distrusted her always, but even that distrust was purely intuitive, for she had no idea of the part Miss Stuart had played in the severing of Helen's engagement. In that slight controversy about Guy, however, Jean had unwittingly pierced beneath the surface of Miss Stuart's suave manner, and had caught a glimpse of the girl's true nature. She could not understand why this shouldaffect her so strongly. In vain she tried to account for it to herself. Miss Stuart, although so dear a friend of Helen's, occupied a comparatively unimportant position in their home life. In another fortnight she would be gone from among them, and for months they would know nothing of her, save what Helen might choose to communicate from her oft received letters. So Jean argued with herself, battling with a curious sense of apprehension that struggled within her. She longed to talk it all over with Aunt Helen, whose judgment was always to be trusted; but that seemed a kind of disloyalty to Helen, so she smothered the vague doubts and fears which threatened to overwhelm her usual good sense. Her thoughts flew off to Farr, and poised over that strange talk they had had on that last afternoon. She drew from her pocket a letter that had come from him, and read it over slowly, lingering over every sentence. But when she had finished and was folding it into its envelope again, she sighed a little, for even that dear missive could not quite dispel the vision which haunted her of Lillian Stuart's beautiful, cruel face.
Monday dawned bright and clear. When Jean awoke the sunlight was flooding the room, and through the open window came the sweet voices of the birds as they merrily chirped and sang. As she sprang out of bed she was filled with a sense of well-being and happiness. She could even find it in her heart to laugh a little scornfully at the fancies that had disturbed her, for they had vanished with the vanishing clouds. She dressed hurriedly and ran down to the dining room with a snatch of song upon her lips. By her plate on the breakfast table lay an envelope addressed in a man's legible handwriting. She flushed as she caught it up, and crossed to the window to read it. Farr had written in great haste to say that theVortexwould be in Hetherford Harbor by noon on Monday. When Jean had reached that point in his note she read no further. She stood very still, her hands holding the bit of paper closely, her breath coming hurriedly through her slightly parted lips. For one moment thus—then the maid entered bearing the coffee urn, Larry clattered noisily into the room, and Jean turned back to the ordinary duties of everyday life. But her face was still illumined, and in thedepths of her shining eyes lingered the reflection of her soul's great happiness.
During the morning a telegram came from Helen saying that she and Miss Stuart would arrive by the afternoon express. Jean had just terminated a long interview with the cook, and was frowning portentously over her unusual duties as housekeeper, when Nathalie brought her the news. She made a grimace and then proceeded to inform Nathalie of the approaching arrival of theVortex, subduing as best she could the tremor of excitement in her voice. Nathalie was jubilant. At last the dull days were at an end, and they would start on a new round of festivities. While she was chattering volubly it suddenly occurred to Jean that it would be a pleasant welcome to Helen and Miss Stuart to ask Mr. Dudley and Farr to dinner. She made the suggestion timidly, for she feared that Nathalie would divine the true motive which prompted her. Her mind was instantly set at rest, for Nathalie, overjoyed at the break in the monotony, gave her a friendly push toward the desk to hasten the writing of the notes. Jean laughingly reminded her that theVortexhad not yet arrived, and then they put their two heads together to concoct a dinner which should quite equal one of Helen's ordering.
That afternoon, as they were about starting for the station, Barnes brought back the answer from theVortex. Farr's was of so grateful and rejoicing a nature that Jean laughed light-heartedly as she read it. It came to her suddenly, as they were bowling along the highroad, that in her note to him she had not mentionedthe fact that Miss Stuart was with them, nor had she done so in the one letter she had written him during his absence.
"It was just an oversight," she said to herself. "A mere chance."
A mere chance, and yet chance sometimes means fate.
Helen met them with so many questions about Gladys, the boys, and Aunt Helen, that Jean had no opportunity to unfold her plan for dinner until Miss Stuart had gone to her room, and she had followed her sister into the nursery. Helen was tired and travel-worn, but she was delighted by Jean's thoughtfulness for Lillian's pleasure, and listened interestedly while her sister anxiously submitted the menu for her approval.
"Everything is perfect, dear," she said, putting Gladys down from her lap and making her way out into the hall, "but before I go to dress I must tell Lillian that we are to have guests to dinner," and she turned away without noting the shadow that crossed Jean's face at the mention of Miss Stuart's name.
Miss Stuart stood before her dressing-table arranging the silver toilet articles which she had just taken from her trunk. She had thoroughly enjoyed her stay at Newport, and was feeling in a good humor with all the world. She turned a bright glance of inquiry as the door opened to admit Helen, and betrayed a ready interest in her friend's announcement.
"Who are the men?"
"Two officers from the Coast Survey schooner that is anchored here, Mr. Dudley and Mr. Farr; Valentine Farr."
The little vinaigrette Miss Stuart held in her hand dropped on the dressing-table. Her face contracted sharply, and she made a quick instinctive movement away from the light.
"Valentine Farr," she repeated slowly, keeping her voice well under control. "It must be the same of course."
"Do you know him?" Helen asked the question absent-mindedly, for she was looking about her critically, to assure herself that everything in the room was as it should be.
"Oh, yes. I have known him for a long while." She had quite recovered from her surprise, and spoke lightly, in her usual tone. "What a small world it is after all."
"Dinner at seven, Lillian," Helen said to her as she closed the door; and then she was alone.
"So Val is here," she murmured. "Val, of all people in the world." She flung back her head with a reckless laugh, and began to pace up and down the room.
A flood of recollections swept over her; recollections which stirred her with a strange emotion. How long ago it seemed since sunny-tempered strong-willed Val Farr had wooed her in so masterful a way. What folly it had been, and yet a sweet folly withal! Miss Stuart paused midway in the room. Her face softened, and her beautiful mouth drooped tenderly. She hadcraved a splendid future which Val could not give her, so she had thrust his love out of her heart, and filled its place with the admiration and exactions of the gay world in which she moved. Val's misfortunes, his poverty, and his estrangement from his family gave her the opportunity which she sought to jilt him. She frowned with vexation as she recalled the look of scorn that he had cast at her when she had laid bare to him the aims and ambitions to which she had sacrificed their love. And after all, it had been a useless, needless exposure, for Val had come to her to give her her freedom. She told herself that she had acted wisely, she laughed to scorn the sentiment that was so hard to stifle—but no other man had ever taken Val's place.
They had met from time to time in Washington, during the past few years, and at each fresh meeting Farr had found himself more and more disillusioned concerning the woman whom he had once loved. Something of this Lillian Stuart divined, with a bitterness of spirit which she could not quell. His indifference stung her to the quick, and she could not renounce the hope that she might win him back, if only circumstances would give her the opportunity. Miss Stuart's thoughts brought her back to the present. She drew her brows together and stared meditatively before her, with eyes that saw nothing of the room around her:
"I wonder if Val is in love with one of these girls, and if so which one."
Jean Lawrence's face flashed before her. She struckher hands sharply together, and an angry light gleamed in her eyes.
"That would be a curious way of punishing me. I have always detested that sister of Helen's."
She crossed to the mirror, and gazed critically at the picture presented there. A smile, slow and cruel, touched her lips, and with a satisfied air of triumph she turned away and began to dress for dinner.
The hands of the little French clock on the mantel were close upon seven, when a knock came at the door and Helen entered. She started back with a faint gasp of admiration, as Miss Stuart turned from the dressing-table and swept across the room to meet her.
"O Lillian," she cried, "how beautiful you look; but, my dear, you will take away my guests' breath. You know we are thoroughly informal at Hetherford."
Miss Stuart raised her hands to clasp a string of pearls about her throat, with slow deliberation.
"I am very sorry," she said distantly, "that my gown does not meet with your approval. I can easily change it."
"Why Lillian, I find your gown charming, and would not have you change it for the world; I exclaimed simply because I did not expect to see youen grande toilette."
"It did not occur to me that I was inappropriately dressed, but of course I am not conversant with your customs here."
The covert sneer was not lost upon Helen, and she flushed painfully at the sharp words. With her usual self-depreciation she felt reproached for what she considered her lack of tact and courtesy.
"I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am, Lillian," she murmured, with deep contrition, "for my inadvertent speech. I never knew you to look lovelier. Won't you please believe me when I tell you that?"
The naïveté of the compliment touched Miss Stuart, and she smiled gayly into Helen's troubled eyes.
"I admit that I did not understand you at first. I thought that I was guilty of a social error. However, it is all right now."
Helen put her hand on her shoulder, and turned her gently around.
"I want to really see your gown. It is exquisite. What perfect taste you have, Lillian."
Miss Stuart's gown was of the palest shade of green velvet, made so simply as to be almost severe in its lines. The low-cut bodice was ornamented with some fine cut jet, and a little dagger of the same was thrust through the soft coil of auburn hair which crowned her small and shapely head. Her neck and arms shone dazzlingly fair, and the contour of the firm white throat would have delighted the eyes of an artist. The long straight lines of her gown accentuated her height, which was somewhat above the average, and she carried herself with regal grace.
Helen gazed at her a moment in silent admiration. She absolutely worshiped beauty, and its power over her was very great. Had anyone hinted to her that it was chiefly this in Miss Stuart which so charmed her, she would have indignantly refuted the accusation, and yet in a great measure it was true. Many and many a time she had cause to puzzle over her friend—aye, almost to distrust and fear her; but the power ofthe girl's great beauty blinded her and left her helpless to condemn one who possessed such infinite attraction.
The silence lasted but a moment, yet Miss Stuart had read Helen's verdict in her transparent face, and her pulses quickened with triumphant hope.
"Well, well," she cried laughingly, at length, "are you spellbound, and have you forgotten your guests?"
Helen cast a hurried glance at the clock.
"Why, it is seven. I must run down at once. Follow me as soon as you can, dear."
Down in the drawing-room, Jean was wandering restlessly about, too excited to keep still for one moment. She wore the simplest of her gowns, but one which Farr had once told her he liked. Jean was almost without vanity, but to-night, as she passed the long mirror over the mantel, she could not refrain from glancing therein. She was counting the slow-footed moments, and at every turn her eyes consulted the old Dutch clock in the corner. At last a carriage drove up the graveled road, there were steps upon the veranda, and the front door opened and closed again. She longed to run out into the hall, but an overwhelming shyness deterred her; and even as she halted, irresolute, the portières were pushed apart, and, as in a dream, she saw Farr coming toward her. Her heart beat so she could not trust her voice to speak him greeting.
He caught both her hands in his, and held them closely.
"Jean, do you know how glad I am to see you again?" he whispered.
Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. The depth of her emotion paled her cheek, and her young face wore a look of awe. Farr's heart bounded with joy, and he would have spoken, but suddenly she flushed crimson and, wrenching her hands from his, started forward to meet Dudley, who stood in the doorway, uncertain whether to advance or beat a retreat. Jean covered her embarrassment as best she could; although Dudley tried valiantly to put her at her ease, there was a merry twinkle in his blue eyes which she found very disconcerting. At that moment Helen and Nathalie made their entrance, and Jean moved a little apart from the others, struggling to regain her self-possession.
Farr had turned to appeal to her for confirmation of some statement when a sudden lull fell upon the buzz of conversation. Miss Stuart stood in the doorway, her brilliant figure strikingly set against the dark background of the dimly lighted hall-way. She surveyed them for a brief instant with apparent nonchalance, but that brief glance told her that it was with Jean that Farr was talking. With slow grace she crossed the room and gained Helen's side.
Farr's eyes followed Jean's, and as they reached Miss Stuart his expression underwent a sudden change. She was looking directly at him, and smiled faintly at the dismay in his face.
"Well, Mr. Farr, is it so great a surprise to you to see such an old friend in Hetherford?"
Farr recovered himself, instantly, and met her challenging glance with an impenetrable smile.
"It is, indeed, an unexpected pleasure, Miss Stuart,"he said with grave courtesy, and Miss Stuart was conscious of feeling curiously baffled.
To Jean, watching them with dilating eyes, that apparently meaningless incident seemed fraught with significance. All the haunting doubts and fears, that not twelve hours ago she had scorned as morbid fancies, returned upon her with redoubled force. Love, which makes us strangely blind, makes us also strangely alert; and Jean's eyes had seen the change in Farr's face, and as he spoke those few conventional words, her quick ears had detected an unnatural ring in his voice. Miss Stuart had called herself an old friend, and yet Farr had never spoken of her. Jean searched her memory to see if it were possible that she had never mentioned Miss Stuart's name to him, and, as she thus pondered, a chance sentence of Nathalie's reached her:
"You go through the shrubbery——"
She heard no more. In an instant the scene was clear before her—the long stretch of lawn beyond the shrubbery, bright in the silver moonlight, the sound of voices from the parsonage, breaking softly upon the evening stillness, through which Farr and she walked slowly side by side. Then she had spoken of Miss Stuart, and he had certainly disclaimed any acquaintance with her. Her heart grew cold as her first doubt of her lover found lodgment there. As if in consummation of her thoughts, she looked up to see Farr offer Miss Stuart his arm. With a sense of foreboding she followed them slowly into the dining room, smiling a little drearily as she remembered with what eagerness she had anticipated this dinner.
Farr's place at table was between Miss Stuart and Jean, and as they took their seats, he spoke to the latter in a carefully lowered tone:
"You can't imagine how delightful it is to be here again. I was absolutely homesick for the manor while I was away."
"Indeed? How unhappy you must have been."
"I was," he replied gravely, observing for the first time the girl's air of disdain, and wondering at the cause thereof, "and I shall have a new cause for sorrow if you look at me as you are now doing."
Jean's levity was somewhat forced as she replied:
"I am very sorry you are not pleased. I do not find it easy to change my expression."
"No?" He bent a very direct and earnest gaze upon her. "Why, Miss Jean," he said softly, "I thought we were friends when I went away; and only to-night you seemed glad at my return."
The last spark of resentment died out of Jean's heart. Her distrust of him seemed suddenly both groundless and foolish. Ashamed and contrite, she was about to speak, when Miss Stuart's suave voice broke in upon them:
"Mr. Farr, have you heard anything of the Saunders since you left Washington?"
Farr had no alternative but to reply to so direct a question, and Jean, although annoyed at the unwelcome interruption, waited patiently, confident that he would seize upon the first opportunity to resume his conversation with her. As the moments passed, however, and his undivided attention was still given to Miss Stuart, she was first hurt, and then bitterlyangry. A lump rose in her throat, and for one miserable moment she thought she was going to cry; then her pride came to her rescue, and under an almost reckless gayety of speech and manner she hid her momentary weakness. It was unjust and unreasonable to blame Farr, but Jean was in no frame of mind for logical argument. He had turned away from her to speak to Miss Stuart, and although she had given him ample time to take up the broken thread of their discourse, he had failed to do so. As she talked on excitedly with Dudley, her cheeks burning, her eyes dark and restless, she was mentally comparing herself with Miss Stuart, whom she had already almost unconsciously begun to regard as her rival. She had always known that Helen's friend was beautiful, but to-night her newly awakened jealousy caused her to lay great stress on the brilliancy and fascination of their guest. She recalled, with curious distinctness, the image of herself which the mirror had shown her while she awaited Farr's coming, and her heart contracted as she thought how colorless she must appear in contrast with Miss Stuart's rich and vivid beauty.
When at length Farr was once more at liberty to address her, she had worked herself up to such a pitch of miserable jealousy that she would have none of him, and took an almost savage delight in thwarting his every attempt at speech with her. He was too reserved to let her see how deeply he was wounded by her flippancy and incivility, and, in his apparent indifference, Jean found an added proof of his disloyalty and of her own unpardonable folly. She hadalmost come to the end of her courage, when Helen rose, giving the signal to the ladies to withdraw.
Helen sat down before the open piano, and Nathalie picked up her mandolin from the music stand and began to tune it. When she had finished she spoke in a low tone to her sister:
"Let's play Guy's old favorite, will you, dear?"
Helen complied, but not before she had cast a half-guilty glance across the room to where Miss Stuart was gracefully reclining in a huge armchair, to satisfy herself that the mention of her lover's name had escaped her friend's notice. The piano took up the accompanying strains of a softandante, the mandolin carrying the air with its tremulous and strangely human wail.
Jean leaned her face on her hand as she nestled down among the cushions on the divan. Her good angel was whispering to her in the sweet harmony of the music, and gentler thoughts of her lover were prevailing against the cruel doubts of him which her jealousy had taught her. After all, had not Miss Stuart been chiefly at fault, and had he not honestly striven to make amends?
"It is entirely the result of my morbid dislike of that girl," she said to herself; and when the officers came out from the dining room, she gave Farr a bright glance of welcome, and when he had joined her, she talked to him until her persistent gentleness had completely melted away the barrier of reserve which had crept between them. Once or twice it was on the tip of her tongue to say, "Why did you never tell me that you knew Miss Stuart?" but the words,held back by a foolish sentiment of pride, never passed her lips.
Meanwhile Farr, although touched by the sweet friendliness, was more disheartened than he quite cared to own. He had allowed his hope to grow too quickly, founded on that one honest glance from Jean's eyes, a glance so full of love and trust that he had felt he could not be deceived. Scarcely had he told himself that his happiness was assured when Jean's coldness had denied the love which her eyes had bespoken. No suspicion of the truth had crossed his mind, and as Jean had never been given to moods, he was left to the discouraging conclusion that he had been too hasty and that she was resenting it. She was willing now to treat him with her old-time cordial frankness, for having once clearly defined their relative positions, she was too courteous to continue a course of treatment which she must have seen had greatly pained him. Never until he had reached this unhappy decision had he realized how strong and deep-rooted was his love for Jean. As his eyes rested on her, a longing seized him to take her in his arms, and to bring back to her face that look which had given him such promise of joy.
His unexpected meeting with Miss Stuart had brought back to his memory the foolish impetuosity, the passionate unrest of his boyish love for her, and he thanked God for the wholesome lesson he had learned, and prayed earnestly for the love of this young girl, whose truth and sincerity stirred all the dormant possibilities of his higher nature. With these thoughts in his mind his eyes wandered across the room towhere Lillian Stuart sat talking with Dudley. He acknowledged the force and charm of her rare exotic beauty, but it moved him not at all. Her effective pose was studied and artificial. Her face, so perfect in contour, was lacking in any suggestion of tender womanliness, and her glorious eyes, now raised to Dudley's, although full of the power of expression, revealed no depth of soul.
It was refreshing to him to turn once more to Jean, to meet the dear laughter-loving eyes, to watch the fleeting changes of expression on her bonny face, to mark the unconscious grace of every movement of her lithe, slender figure. Yet, the secret of Jean's strong hold on his heart lay not in these superficial attractions, nor in her frank simplicity of manner, nor yet in her girlish freshness, which was her greatest claim to beauty, but in the knowledge he had gained of her true nature; a nature so honest, so unfailing in loyalty, so unselfish, so charitable, so responsive in its sympathies, that both respect and reverence were blended with his love for her. And yet he was not wholly blind to her faults. He knew that she was impatient and hot-tempered, and that, in anger, she was often sarcastic and cutting; but he also saw that she made a brave effort to hold herself in check, and that, however she might be worsted, she never ceased to struggle for the mastery. His meditations had carried him far adrift of the conversation, but although Jean had observed his abstraction, she did not resent it. She was living in a day-dream herself, a dream that was all the happier for that miserable hour at the dinner-table. She rose with a regretfulsigh when Helen asked her to go up with a message to Aunt Helen. She looked up at Farr as he held back the portière for her to pass, and impulsively put out her hand to him.
"We are friends again, are we not?" she asked scarcely above her breath.
Farr gripped the little hand so tightly it almost hurt her.
"Only friends, Jean?" was all he said; but Jean was satisfied.
Aunt Helen detained her for some few moments with questions about the dinner, and when at last she was free Mary called to her to please step into the nursery, for Larry was wakeful and naughty and would not be quiet. Quite a half-hour had passed before she re-entered the drawing-room.
She paused on the threshold, attracted by Farr's voice. He was seated just within the doorway. His back was turned toward her and he faced Miss Stuart, who was leaning slightly forward in her chair.
"You are mistaken," he was saying. "I remember everything about that evening, to the color of the gown you wore."
Before the conclusion of this sentence Miss Stuart had detected Jean, half hidden by the heavy portière.
"Those were pleasant days in Washington, Val," she said, accompanying the words with a faint sigh.
Jean, never dreaming that she had been seen, retreated precipitately to a far corner of the hall, and when she once more entered the room her face was pale, but she held her head well up, and with a low"I beg your pardon," swept by the two, who still maintained their positions.
That night Miss Stuart's light burned until a late hour, and in response to Helen's gentle inquiry as to the cause thereof she gave through the closed door, but a curt "Good-night."
Wednesday brought the return of theSylphfrom her cruise. The men, tanned and burned by exposure to wind and sun, were in great spirits, and declared themselves ready for any sport that might be suggested. The girls rallied forces, and in solemn conclave bade them extend their vacation one more week, that Miss Stuart might be amused and entertained. They drew a pathetic picture of her first week in Hetherford, and maintained that it would be rank disloyalty to allow her to go away with such an impression of the beloved place.
In the confusion of tongues two voices were silent. Emily and Jean each had her own reason for wishing Miss Stuart a thousand miles away, and both looked a little contemptuous at the excitement that was being made over her. However, their lack of interest did not dampen the enthusiasm of the others, and the day was carried. The men did not need a great deal of urging, for they had already met Miss Stuart, and were eloquent in their praises of her. Dick Andrews succumbed at once to the tender passion, much to everybody's amusement, for jolly Dick in the rôle of lovesick swain was a most diverting spectacle.
Andrews did not have it all his own way, however,for Miss Stuart, with an exception in Farr's favor, treated them quite impartially. It was conceded that Farr, as an old friend, had a prior right, and no one marveled that Miss Stuart's manner toward him was particularly gracious and amiable. They were much in each other's society, and so diplomatic was Miss Stuart, that no one discerned that their frequenttête-à-têteswere invariably of her planning.
It must be said, however, that Farr made no resistance and appeared eminently at ease with her. He was sorely wounded, and as angry with Jean as it was possible for him to be; and in this dejected and unenviable frame of mind, he took small heed of what he did with his time. Monday night when, at Helen's request, Jean had left the drawing-room, she had distinctly bade him hope. One hour later, she had again veered round and had treated him with a contemptuous indifference which he felt he had in no way deserved. Even then he had tried to believe that his imagination was at fault, but when she had purposely overlooked the hand which he had extended to her in parting, he could no longer deceive himself. Unfortunately, Miss Stuart had seen the slight which Jean had put upon him, and the faint smile of amusement in her eyes when she had said, "good-night" to him but deepened the sting. In a tempest of rage he flung himself out of the house and strode furiously down the avenue, leaving poor Dudley far behind, to wonder what on earth was the matter.
It was not easy for Farr with his nature to forgive a repulse, and on Tuesday he kept to theVortex,nursing his wrongs, and vowing he would take no step to make matters right between them until Jean should show some sign of penitence. By Wednesday this determination was less firm, and during the hours of his work and leisure his heart was pleading for Jean. When evening came he gave up the struggle, and at nine o'clock presented himself at the manor.
The light that streamed out through the open door and windows revealed quite a number of people on the veranda, and he remembered that he had observed theSylphriding at anchor in the harbor. They gave him a hearty welcome, and while Nathalie was rallying him for his unkind desertion of them, he vainly tried to discover Jean's whereabouts. His inability to do so was soon explained.
"Where did Jean go?" Nathalie asked.
Eleanor answered from the corner of the veranda:
"She went in the house a little while ago."
"Send Susie up for her, Nathalie," Helen requested.
Farr took a seat on the railing at a point which commanded a view of the hall; and found himself face to face with Miss Stuart, who was tilting slowly back and forth in a deep rocker. They had interchanged one or two commonplace remarks when a maid tripped across the hall and stood in the doorway.
"Miss Jean begs to be excused," she announced briefly, and disappeared into the darkened dining room beyond.
Farr drew a quick breath, and a frown contracted his brows. He could scarcely believe that he hadheard aright. With a characteristic gesture, he pulled his cap down over his eyes and set his teeth. Miss Stuart remembered the trick of old. She watched him furtively, with a curious light in her eyes. Suddenly he recalled her existence, but when he looked at her she had already averted her gaze and was apparently quite unconscious that anything of importance had taken place.
She gave him a few moments in which to recover himself, and then addressed to him some passing observation on a subject quite alien to Hetherford or the Hetherford girls. Farr, animated by a strong desire to hide his pain and disappointment from every eye, braced himself and replied in a vein of lightness which satisfied her that she had been wise in the course which she had adopted. They drifted quite naturally into conventional small-talk, and every moment he gained more assurance and ease. He was positively grateful for Miss Stuart's presence, for it afforded him a refuge from intercourse with those simple-hearted Hetherford girls, which he felt would, just now, be very disastrous to his self-control. No thought of danger assailed him. He believed Miss Stuart's sentiment for him to be quite dead; and as for himself he had so completely outlived every trace of his boyish passion as to have even lost all feeling of resentment against her. He congratulated himself with true masculine density that he had probed the depths of Miss Stuart's nature, and could never be outwitted by her again. Some day, if things went well with him, he meant to tell Jean all about that affair; in fact, he would have done so Mondayevening, had he not felt that it would scarcely be in good taste to discuss the subject with Miss Stuart almost within ear-shot. In the meantime it did not distress him in the least to defer the telling of the story; for Jean, of course, knew nothing whatever of the matter, and it was extremely improbable that Miss Stuart would ever take the pains to enlighten her. In justice to Farr it should be said that he had completely forgotten the incident of the shrubbery which had meant so much to Jean, and he was not aware of the words that she had overheard, and of the construction that she had not unnaturally put upon them.
And all this while poor little Jean lay on the sofa, in her darkened room, sobbing as if her heart would break. She had waited so patiently on Tuesday, hoping against hope that he would come and explain everything to her. For, of course, there was something to explain, else why had he so distinctly avoided all mention of Miss Stuart, even when she had asked him if he knew her?
"He has a right to his past," she said to herself, with quivering lips; "but, oh! if they were such old friends, if she calls him Val, if he remembers one evening with her even to the color of her gown, he might—oh! he might have remembered to speak of her to me."
The more she thought it over the greater seemed the proofs of his deception. If he and Miss Stuart had been old friends and nothing more, it would have been his natural impulse to speak of his surprise and pleasure at meeting her at the manor. He had failed to do so, and, with despair in her heart, Jean toldherself that he must have had some strong reason for his silence.
Tuesday wore away, and still no word had come from him. She determined not to let Miss Stuart see how unhappy she was, so kept about with the others, and entered into all their plans with forced gayety. When half-past nine struck on Wednesday evening, she gave up all hope of seeing him, for they were very informal in Hetherford, and kept early hours. She went up to her room, and as she slipped on her wrapper, she fell to crying, and when Susie knocked and announced Farr, she was too disfigured by her tears to think of going down. The disappointment was very keen.
"Please excuse me, Susie," she called through the closed door. "I am sorry, but I am lying down."
As she heard the maid's retreating step she would fain have recalled her, and sent some other message, but it was too late.
The next day, on the decks of theSylph, Farr and Jean met for the first time since Monday. Jean came aboard fully resolved to tender an apology for having excused herself on the previous evening. She had never lacked self-confidence before, but to-day she could scarcely pluck up courage to speak to him. Timidly she made her first friendly overtures, only to be met with an unmistakable rebuff. Farr answered the questions she put to him, but with a studied indifference which made her cheeks tingle; to make matters worse he presently sauntered off from the group of which Jean made one, and joined Miss Stuart, whowas seated a short distance away. Jean's face grew hard as she stifled the sob which rose in her throat, and she registered a vow that never again would she give him an opportunity to treat her so slightingly. It was unmanly and unmannerly, and she had done with him forever. She did not flinch from the path she laid out for herself, and so successfully did she play the part that Dick and Mollie, walking home in the cool of the evening, declared that it was like the good old days to have Jean so jolly and full of fun.
Miss Stuart meanwhile was content to keep Farr at her side, despite the fact that he was a most morose and taciturn companion. She knew wherein lay her advantage, and although the knowledge was not flattering to her self-pride, it did not prevent her from making the best of her opportunities. It was galling to her that Jean had the power to make him so miserable, but the trouble between them served her purpose very well for the present. As she talked to him pleasantly, she did not seem to notice that his replies were monosyllabic, and that he watched Jean's every movement with gloomy eyes. She was a clever woman, with a rare gift of conversation, and ere long her tactful efforts were rewarded, and Farr, roused from his abstraction, shook himself out of his ill-humor. In the course of the day he made one or two attempts at a reconciliation with Jean, but as both she and Miss Stuart had concentrated their energies to prevent his accomplishing his purpose, he failed signally.
As day followed day, the breach between Jean andher lover was not healed, and no hand was stretched forth to stay its ever-widening limits.
"Lillian!"
Miss Stuart laid down her book, and looked expectantly up at Helen.
"I have a suggestion to make for this afternoon. How would you like to drive over to Crescent Beach to call on Mrs. Maynard?"
"I agree to the drive," replied Miss Stuart, stifling a yawn, "but why must we call on that stupid woman? She always bores me to death."
There was a ring of annoyance in Helen's voice as she answered:
"Oh, it is not at all necessary for you to go with me. One of my sisters would be delighted to do so."
"So much the better, my dear," said Miss Stuart indifferently, as she picked up her book and resumed her reading.
"Why are you so down on little Mrs. Maynard?" queried Wendell Churchill, emerging from a recess of the window where he and Nathalie had been whiling away the morning hours with mandolin and banjo.
"I am not down on her in the least, but I think she is uninteresting to a degree."
She paused until the portières had closed on Helen's retreating figure, and then met Churchill's eyes with a meaning smile.
"It is not surprising, is it, that her husband should find Mrs. Desborough a pleasing contrast?"
In her far-away corner hot-tempered Nathaliecaught the words and flared up in defense of her friend:
"Oh, I think it is a shame to speak so. Mrs. Maynard is unhappy, but no woman ever bore unhappiness with greater dignity. It seems to me incredible that everybody's sympathies are not enlisted on her side."
"I am very unfortunate," returned Miss Stuart with thinly veiled sarcasm. "This is the second time I have erred in this way. I must be more careful in future not to give expression to my opinions."
Churchill saw that some unpleasantness was imminent, and, manlike, rushed in only to make matters worse.
"Don't you think Miss Nathalie looks very much like Mrs. Desborough? I have so often noticed the resemblance."
With blazing eyes, Nathalie started up from the low window-seat.
"From all I know of her, I cannot feel flattered by the compliment," and, with this parting shot, she thrust open the French windows and flew out on the veranda.
"Dear, dear," murmured Miss Stuart in mock dismay, "what a tempest in a teapot. Those girls are terribly spoiled, and it is all Helen's fault. She is unpardonably weak with them."
Churchill was very much embarrassed by the position in which he found himself. He extricated himself by muttering something barely intelligible, to the effect that the Lawrences were so much attached toeach other, and then retreated hastily to find Nathalie and reinstate himself in her good graces.
When afternoon came Miss Stuart relented and she and Helen, with little Gladys between them, started off in the buckboard for Crescent Beach. It was a beautiful drive. For a short distance the road wound through fragrant meadows and wooded lanes until it came out upon the beach, where for several miles it led straight away over the hardened sands. They bowled swiftly along, the fresh salt wind blowing in their faces, the soothing sound of the ebb and flow of the restless waters breaking softly on their ears.
Miss Stuart, exhilarated by the clear air, the brilliant sunshine and the congenial companionship of this friend whom she really loved, had never appeared to a greater advantage. It was the Lillian Stuart who might have been whose cleverness and glancing wit held Helen's mind enthralled, as they talked of all the subjects dear to women's hearts. All too soon they reached their destination. As they drew up under theporte-cochèreof the hotel, Helen found herself wishing with all her heart that Lillian might continue in so charming a mood.
Presently Mrs. Maynard joined them in the vast hotel parlor, and as Miss Stuart went forward to greet her with great cordiality, Helen had no fault to find with her manner. They chatted together for some few moments when Miss Stuart recognized some friends of hers in a party of people who had wandered in from the piazza. She excused herself, and as she joined them Mrs. Maynard turned to Helen.
"Don't you want to come up to my room for a fewmoments, Helen? I am sure that Dorothy would be very glad to see Gladys."
The child jumped instantly down from her chair, her chubby face beaming with eager anticipation.
"Gladys has accepted for me," said Helen with an amused smile, and the two made their way upstairs.
"What a lovely view you have!" exclaimed Helen as she dropped into a chair near the open window.
"It is pretty," Mrs. Maynard assented, pushing open a door which led into the next room.
A beautiful little child sat in the middle of the floor, hugging a big woolly lamb close to her heart.
"Dorothy, will you please come here, and speak to little Gladys Lawrence, who has come to see you?"
At her mother's bidding, Dorothy struggled to her feet, and clutching the lamb tightly in both hands, ran toward the open door. Then she caught sight of Helen, and the big violet eyes were swiftly veiled, and the little head with its tangled mass of golden curls was hidden in the folds of her mother's skirt. Mrs. Maynard smiled in gentle reproof as she lifted the child's face.
"What a baby, darling! Please be a good little girl and say 'how-do-you-do' to Gladys."
Dorothy still hung back, clinging fast to her mother's hand; but Gladys, who was the most friendly little creature in the world, soon succeeded in overcoming her shyness. Presently they were chattering together as happily as possible, and Dorothy went so far as to produce her box of paper dolls and to dress them for Gladys' benefit.
Mrs. Maynard's face lighted up with sympatheticinterest as Helen gave her a graphic account of the week's gayeties. She had known Miss Stuart for several years, and could well understand Helen's desire to make her visit enjoyable. Miss Stuart, bored, might be a very difficult companion.
"I am so glad for you, Helen, dear, that you have had such pleasant times. I wish you would let me feel that I had contributed in a small way toward helping you to entertain Miss Stuart, and, if you would enjoy it, I would love to have you all come over here for the dance on Saturday evening. I believe they are to have very good music, and we will arrange to have a pleasant little supper together. My husband will be here, and I expect Mr. and Mrs. Endicott, whom you may remember."
"Yes, indeed, I do, and I know that I can accept for all of us. It will be moonlight, so the drive over will be delightful."
On the way home little else was talked of between the girls but the prospective dance. Miss Stuart expressed herself as very much pleased with the idea, and the plan having received the sanction of her approval, Helen forthwith determined that every arrangement should be as perfect as her careful forethought could make it.
When they reached the manor, the girls were having tea on the upper porch. They joined them at once, and the question of the dance was laid before them.
"Glorious!" exclaimed Nathalie, ecstatically, and her verdict was loudly echoed by the others.
Helen drew a chair up close to the tea-table overwhich Jean was presiding, and pulling off her gloves smoothed them out on her knee with the palm of her hand.
"I want to consult you in regard to the drive, Jeanie," she said in a lowered tone.
Jean nodded, and leaned across her, to hand a cup of tea to Miss Stuart.
"Nathalie," said Helen, "please give Lillian some of that hot toast."
"Toast and jam!" exclaimed Nan in accents of scorn, as she helped herself generously to both. "What sordid considerations, when there is abona fideball in view."
"Leave a slice for me, Nancy," laughed Eleanor. "I must fortify myself if you are going to wax eloquent."
"Stop your nonsense, girls," and Nathalie waved an imperious hand at them. "The question is, how shall we drive over?"
Jean turned to Helen.
"If it is a fine night we might go in the wagonette."
"Why, Jean, it would not begin to hold us all," interposed Emily. "There are fourteen of us, counting the men from theVortex."
"I did not include them," Jean replied quietly.
Miss Stuart stared curiously at her over the edge of her teacup.
"It seems to me that a dance without men is rather a tame affair, and I don't imagine the hotel will yield a very plentiful supply."
Jean lifted her chin defiantly.
"I was not speaking of the dance but of the drive over."
"Well, that is perfectly absurd," Emily broke in. "The idea of our going over in one conveyance, and those poor men in another. What are you thinking of, Jean?"
Miss Stuart laughed softly, while Jean vouchsafed never a word.
A glance of intelligence was flashed from Nan to Eleanor, and Nan spoke up in good-natured raillery.
"Em, dear, have you ever heard that 'enough is as good as a feast.' Jean probably remembered that it it is fully twelve miles there and back and felt some qualms for fear her conversational ability would desert her."
The laugh was general, for it was a joke of long standing that Jean could talk to anyone, at any time, and under any circumstances, however trying.
Helen looked from one to the other with puzzled eyes. She had an uncomfortable consciousness that there was something in the air which she did not understand. She put an end to the discussion with quiet decision.
"There will be quite time enough to talk this over later. We must wait and see how the weather turns out. Now, suppose we go downstairs and have some music before we break up."
Later that evening she opened the subject again to Miss Stuart.
"I will tell you what I have decided, Lillian. We will hire the Hetherford stage and all go over in that."
And Miss Stuart answered, with a tinge of triumph in her voice:
"That is certainly a most sensible plan, my dear."
So it was settled. Jean accepted the decision without a protest. Deep in her heart she still cherished a strong hope that the misunderstandings between Farr and herself might one day be cleared away. She had acted contrary to her own wishes in excluding him from the drive to Crescent Beach, and she admitted to herself, shamefacedly, that she was glad the matter had been taken out of her hands.