"Yes," that lady rejoined, "you may read mine. Mrs. Van Dorn keeps her mind as fresh as a person of half her age, and she is past eighty. She has made all the arrangements."
And the arrangements were that Mrs. Aldred should bring Helen to Paris with the other young ladies. She was going there and would be ready to receive her. She was very grateful for the care bestowed upon Helen, she had been very much gratified with the girl"s letters, and this must answer until she could express the rest in person.
"And you think--I can"t make it seem true," faltered Helen,--"that such a thing should happen to me?"
"It does not altogether surprise me," Mrs. Aldred answered in a rea.s.suring tone. "I surmised this from the beginning. Mrs. Van Dorn took an unusual fancy to you, and knowing you these two years I must give her penetration great credit. For certain reasons, I regret you cannot go on with your education. But you will learn a great deal abroad."
"I feel as if all of life is a school, and you are learning right along to do what comes next. I have worked hard at the French, and now I see the use of it. I dare say it will be so with other things. I wish I were a better musician."
"Mrs. Van Dorn will care more for your voice. You can take excellent singing lessons abroad. Helen, I _do_ congratulate you from the bottom of my heart. And whatever happens I shall always want to be considered your sincere friend. I have been very much interested in your development, and shall continue so to be."
She bent over and kissed Helen, who returned the caress with much warmth.
"You will answer your letter to go by noon to-morrow."
Helen bowed, too much moved to speak.
It was still strange to her. One might dream of an event coming in the future, but to have it _here_, to put your hand on it, as one might say, dazed her. Daisy was at a music practice, though she did not think she could talk it over with anyone just now.
Miss Craven stood hesitatingly in the half open doorway, with beseeching eyes.
"If you are not too very busy--I"m in trouble about the Latin. Oh, if I could be quick to see into things!" in a pa.s.sion of regret that emphasized every line of her face where last year it would have been unmoved.
"I had an awful time about it, too, so we can sympathize," smiling cheerfully. "I just wanted something to start up my energies."
"Oh, what should I do without you? Shall I ever be able to go on alone?"
"Think what you have accomplished in the two years," was the rea.s.suring answer.
There was a saunter around the grounds afterwards, meeting several groups of girls and flinging bright jests at each other. Then dinner, the study period, some conversation and it was bedtime. But Helen could not sleep. She smiled to herself as she wondered what Mr. Warfield would say and there was a consciousness that he would think her only half educated. Well, could one ever be wholly educated at sixteen?--even at sixty, professors are learning new things. And, oh, what a stir it would make all through the Hopes!
She was up early the next morning. Daisy was asleep in her little white bed with a smile on her face. Yes, she would hate to leave her and Miss Craven, and several others. She slipped on her lovely j.a.panese silk morning gown, she reveled in pretty garments nowadays, though they were all befitting a girl of sixteen, and picking up her portfolio she glided softly down to the study room.
Oh, what a morning it was! The sun was throwing out long shining rays in the east and they glistened on the tree-tops, on the distant hills, on the wide slopes, leaving the nooks and haunts in suggestive darkness.
Just a dainty little mist fit for dryad robes lingered about. And here at the back, down to the small stream, dogwoods and late red maples and horse-chestnuts were in bloom. Could there be a lovelier picture? Had Europe anything better? And the fragrance might have come from Araby the blest. It was all youth and freshness, and it took her back to the summer of two years ago when everything wonderful had just dawned upon her.
In this mood she wrote her letter. All her life long she was glad she had not come to second thoughts, about the matter, but kept the first thoughts of joyous youth and gladness and gratefulness. The rising bell rang and she hurried along, wrote her last word at the next summons and sealed her letter.
"Where have you been?" cried Daisy at the apparition in trailing gown, as she opened her eyes.
"Writing a letter in the study." Then she hurried into skirt and waist and joined the group going downstairs, giving bright good-mornings to one and another.
"I can"t think what ails you," cried Daisy in astonishment. "You look--enchanted and--frightened."
"I will tell you--the first of anybody. It is so strange I hardly believe it myself."
They were all striving their utmost, this group of girls. Examinations were so near, pictures were to be finished, little gifts made to be exchanged, remembrances of one"s handiwork. An excursion across the river to add pages to their lore on wild flowers which were to be pressed and put in books. A lecture on Browning that evening down at the town-hall, and Mrs. Wiley was to take a host of girls.
"If he only would read "Herve Riel"!" said Helen. And to think she might see the very place where the ships came in safely. It would be worth much to her.
There is always a reaction from an exalted state, and this came to Helen Grant. By degrees she remembered what she might be giving up, what she might be called upon to do. If Miss Gage was coming home, she would take her place, and be companion, have the whims, the impatience, and the restlessness to contend with. She had experienced some of it already.
Past eighty--why, that was old age, decrepitude presently, loss of memory--some old people had to be told things over and over again. She had never thought of real old age in connection with Mrs. Van Dorn. And she would spend all her bright young years--there would be no further delightful school, no graduation, no college, and she _did_ love study so.
Mrs. Van Dorn had given her these two splendid years, but if she asked back ten, and she was so confident of living to ninety--oh, could she grant it cheerfully? There would have to be some greater grace than her own. And if G.o.d gave her this to do--if the friends of girlhood were denied her, if Mrs. Van Dorn claimed _all_, would she have to submit?
It was a hard question for sixteen who had only enjoyed two years of freedom about the things she loved best, the thing she wanted most, education.
She told Daisy Bell, who didn"t know whether to rejoice or not. It was splendid, of course, but if she should be away for years and all their lovely friendship come to an end!
"For I am sure I shall never find a girl I love so thoroughly, that I depend on, that is a strong tower to me. Mamma said my letters had been her treasures this year, I was taking so much more serious and sacred views of life. And they will be dismal enough next winter."
"Then I am afraid I haven"t done you much good," Helen smiled through tears.
"Yes, you have. And I will try to remember all the nice talks we have had and keep strong on them. We will appoint one hour in the day when we shall always think of each other."
"And pray that G.o.d may give us grace to remember for years if there is need," Helen returned solemnly.
Miss Craven was glad for her. "It must be wonderful to have a person care that much for you," she said, "to want to keep you near her. Why, it is almost as mothers feel, I suppose. I couldn"t bear the thought of you being away alone--if you _were_ alone I should ask you to come and be a sister to me. I don"t know how I can get along without you, but I must try and comfort myself with the thought of what you have been to me. And, oh, if you should be absent years, I will come over. Why, I should like to see the dear old lady who loves you so."
Helen felt almost convicted of ingrat.i.tude.
CHAPTER XVIII
WRIT IN AN UNKNOWN TONGUE
There were girls who envied Helen Grant, who thought they would change places with her in a minute if they could. She wrote to Uncle Jason and explained that it would not be possible to come home. School closed on the 28th of June, on the 3d of July they would leave on the steamer at New York. She sent the same message to Mrs. Dayton, with the wish that she might be able to come and see her off, but she didn"t suppose it would be possible. She secretly hoped Mr. Warfield might make it so.
One of the schoolgirls, a graduate, would go home at once and meet them at the steamer. The other two resided in New York. Mrs. Aldred was much engrossed with business matters and her preparations.
The second week in June, when examinations had just begun, Mr. Castles came up one evening. They were almost through dinner and Mrs. Aldred closed the door of the reception room and desired that no one should disturb her. Mr. Castles said he was the bearer of melancholy news. Mrs.
Van Dorn had died very suddenly in Paris. Miss Gage had cabled for full instructions. Mrs. Van Dorn"s body would be brought home and buried beside her husband. Miss Gage was to have all personal belongings inventoried and packed to come with her and the body.
"Do you know a Mr. James Fenton?" he asked.
"James Fenton. He is about as near a relation as I am. He is on the father"s side, I am on her mother"s; about third cousins, I think."
"It appears this Mr. Fenton annoyed her some at Florence in the spring.
Then he called on her at Paris and had a long talk with her in the afternoon, which Miss Gage said upset her very much. They went to a reception in the evening at the Emba.s.sy, she seeming in her usual health, but not quite placid. It was very warm and she fainted, it was supposed, but the physician who was called p.r.o.nounced her dead. This Mr.
Fenton insisted upon taking charge of everything, so I cabled my instructions at once. The body will be here in a fortnight."
Mrs. Aldred was shocked beyond measure. It hardly seemed credible.
"Do you know anything about her affairs?"
"Not especially," replied Mrs. Aldred. "I once heard her say she would not have much to leave behind. The money was from her husband, and if she chose to live extravagantly it was no one"s affairs."