HELEN IN SOCIETY.
It was three days before Christmas, and Katy was talking confidentially
to Mrs. Banker, whom she had asked to see the next time she should call.
"I want so much to surprise her," she said, speaking in a whisper, "and
you have been so kind to us both that I thought it might not trouble you
very much if I asked you to make the selection for me, and see to the
engraving. Wilford gave me fifty dollars, all I needed, as I had fifty
more of my own, and now that I have a baby, I am sure I shall never
again care to go out. My darling baby, how small the whole world seems
to me now when compared with her," and the little mother glanced
lovingly at the crib where slept the baby, worth more than all the
world.
"Yes," Mrs. Banker said, thoughtfully, as she rolled up the bills,
"you wish me to get as heavy bracelets as I can find--for the hundred
dollars."
"Yes," Katy replied, "I think that will please her, don't you?"
Mrs. Banker knew Katy's fondness for jewelry, and knowing, too, that her
girlhood was spent in comparative poverty, she could readily understand
how she would gratify her taste when circumstances were favorable; but
Helen was different, and she felt certain that the hundred dollars could
be spent to better advantage and in a manner more satisfactory to her.
Still she hardly liked to interfere until Katy, observing her hesitancy,
asked again if she did not think Helen would be pleased.
"Yes, pleased with anything you choose to give her, but--excuse me, dear
Mrs. Cameron, if I speak as openly as if I were the mother of you both.
Bracelets are suitable for you who can have everything else, but is
there not something your sister needs more, something which will do more
good? Now, allowing me to suggest, I should say, buy her some furs, and
let the bracelets go. In Silverton her furs were well enough, but here,
as the sister of Mrs. Wilford Cameron, she is deserving of better."
It was the first time that Katy had thought that in New York her sister
might need more than at home. Seeing her only in the dim sickroom, the
contrast between Helen and her and her husband's sisters had not struck
her, or if it had, she gave the preference to Helen in her dark merino
and linen collar, rather than to Juno in her silks and velvet; but she
understood Mrs. Banker at once, her cheeks reddening as there flashed
upon her the reason why Wilford had never yet been in the street with
Helen, notwithstanding that she had more than once requested it.
"You are right," she said. "It was thoughtless in me not to think of
this myself. Helen shall have the furs, and whatever else is necessary.
I am so glad you reminded me of it. You are kind as my own mother," and
Katy kissed her friend fondly as she bade her good-by, charging her a
dozen times not to let Helen know the surprise in store for her.
There was little need of this caution, for Mrs. Banker understood human
nature too well to divulge a matter which might wound one as sensitive
as Helen. Between the latter and herself there was a strong bond of
friendship, and to the kind patronage of this lady Helen owed most of
the attentions she had as yet received from her sister's friends; while
Mark Ray did much toward lifting her to the place she held in spite of
the common country dress, which Juno unsparingly criticised, and which,
in fact, kept Wilford from taking her out, as his wife so often asked
him to do. And Helen, too, keenly felt the difference between herself
and those with whom she came in contact, crying over it more than once,
but never dreaming of the surprise in store for her, when on Christmas
morning she went as usual to Katy's room, finding her alone, her face
all aglow with excitement, and her bed a perfect showcase of dry goods,
which she bade Helen examine and say how she liked them.
Wilford was no niggard with his money, and when Katy had asked for more,
it had been given unsparingly, even though he knew the purpose to which
it was to be applied.
"Oh, Katy, Katy, why did you do it?" Helen cried, her tears falling
like rain through the fingers she clasped over her eyes.
"You are not angry?" Katy said, in some dismay, as Helen continued to
sob without looking at the handsome furs, the stylish hat, the pretty
cloak, and rich patterns of blue and black silk, which Mrs. Banker had
selected.
"No, oh, no!" Helen replied. "I know it was all meant well; but there is
something in me which rebels against taking this from Wilford. He had
better have sent to Silverton for that trunk. Its contents have never
been disturbed, and surely there might be something found good enough
for me."
It was the first time Helen had alluded to that trunk; but Katy did not
think that anything ill-natured was meant by the remark. She only felt
that Helen shrank from receiving so much from Wilford, as it was natural
she should, and she hastened to reassure her, using all her powers to
comfort her until she at last grew calm enough to examine and admire the
Christmas gifts upon which no expense had been spared. Much as we may
ignore dress, and sinful as is an inordinate love for it, there is yet
about it an influence for good, when the heart of the wearer is right,
holding it subservient to all higher, holier affections. At least Helen
Lennox found it so, when, clad in her new garments, which added so much
to her good looks, she drove with Mrs. Banker, or returned Sybil
Grandon's call, feeling that there was about her nothing for which Katy
need to blush, or even Wilford, who blandly invited her one pleasant day
to drive with him to the Park, seeming so disappointed when told that he
had been forestalled by Mr. Ray, whose fine turnout attracted less
attention that afternoon than did the handsome lady at his side, Helen
Lennox, who bade fair to rival even her Sister Katy tarrying at home,
and listening with delight to the flattering things which Wilford
reported as having been said of Helen by those for whose opinion he
cared the most. He was not afraid to be seen with her now, and Helen,
while knowing the reason of the change, did not feel like quarreling
with him for it, but accepted with a good-natured grace of what made her
life in New York very happy. With Bell Cameron she was on the best of
terms; while Sybil Grandon, always going with the tide, professed for
her an admiration, which, whether fancied or real, did much toward
making her popular; and when, as the mistress of her brother's house,
she issued cards of invitation for a large party, she took especial
pains to insist upon Helen's attending, even if Katy were not able. But
from this Helen shrank. She could not meet so many strangers alone, she
said, and so the matter was dropped, until Mrs. Banker offered to
chaperone her, when Helen began to waver, changing her mind at last
and promising to go.
Never since the days of her first party had Katy been so wild with
excitement as she was in deciding upon Helen's dress, which well became
the wearer, who scarcely knew herself when, before the mirror, with the
blaze of the chandelier falling upon her, she saw the picture of a young
girl arrayed in rich pink silk, with an overskirt of lace, and the light
pretty cloak, just thrown upon her uncovered neck, where Katy's pearls
were shining. Even Wilford was pleased, and stood by admiring her almost
as much as Katy.
"What would they say at home if they could only see you?" Katy
exclaimed, throwing back the handsome cloak so as to show more of the
well-shaped neck, gleaming so white beneath it.
"Aunt Betsy would say I had forgotten half my dress," Helen replied,
blushing as she glanced at the uncovered arms, which never since her
childhood had been thus exposed to view, except at such times as her
household duties had required it.
Even this exception would not apply to the low neck, at which Helen long
demurred, yielding finally to Katy's entreaties, but often wondering
what Mark Ray would think, and if he would not be shocked. Mark Ray had
been strangely blended with all Helen's thoughts as she submitted
herself to Esther's practiced hands, and when the hairdresser, summoned
to her aid, asked what flowers she would wear, it was a thought of him
which led her to select a single water lily, which looked as natural as
if its bed had really been the bosom of Fairy Pond.
"Nothing else? Surely mademoiselle will have these few green leaves?"
Celine had said, but Helen would have nothing save the lily, which was
twined tastefully amid the heavy braids of the brown hair, whose length
and luxuriance had thrown the hairdresser into ecstasies of delight,
and made Esther lament that in these days of false tresses no one would
give Miss Lennox credit for what was wholly her own.
"You will be the belle of the evening," Katy said, as she kissed her
sister good-night and then ran back to her baby, while Wilford, yielding
to her importunities that he should not remain with her, followed Mrs.
Banker's carriage in his own private conveyance, and was soon set down
at Sybil Grandon's door.
Meanwhile, at the elder Cameron's there had been a discussion touching
the propriety of their taking Helen under their protection, instead of
leaving her to Mrs. Banker to chaperone, Bell insisting that it ought to
be done, while the father swore roundly at the imperious Juno, who would
not "be bothered with that country girl."
"You would rather leave her wholly to Mark Ray and his mother, I
suppose," Bell said, adding, as she saw the flush on Juno's face. "You
know you are dying of jealousy, and nothing annoys you so much as to
hear people talk of Mark's attentions to Miss Lennox."
"Do they talk?" Mrs. Cameron asked quickly, while in her gray eyes there
gleamed a light far more dangerous and threatening to Helen than Juno's
open scorn.
Mrs. Cameron had long intended Mark Ray for her daughter, and accustomed
to see everything bend to her wishes, she had come to consider the
matter as almost certain, even though he had never proposed in words. He
had done everything else, she thought, attending Juno constantly and
frequenting their house so much that it was a standing joke for his
friends to seek him there when he was not at home or at his office.
Latterly, however, there had been a change, and the ambitious mother
could not deny that since Helen's arrival in New York Mark had visited
them less frequently and stayed a shorter time, while she had more than
once heard of him at her son's in company with Helen. Very rapidly a
train of thought passed through her mind; but it did not manifest itself
upon her face, which was composed and quiet as she decided with Juno
that Helen should not trouble them. With the utmost care Juno arrayed
herself for the party, thinking with a great deal of complacency how
impossible it was for Helen Lennox to compete with her in point of
dress.
"She is such a prude, I daresay she will go in that blue silk with the
long sleeves and high neck, looking like a Dutch doll," she said to
Bell, as she shook back the folds of her rich crimson, and turned her
head to see the effect of her wide braids of hair.
"I am not certain that a high dress is worse than bones," Bell retorted,
playfully touching Juno's neck, which, though white and gracefully
formed, was shockingly guiltless of flesh.
There was an angry reply, and then wrapping her cloak about her Juno
followed to their carriage, and was ere long one of the gay crowd
thronging Sybil Grandon's parlors. Helen had not yet arrived, and Juno
was hoping she would not come, when there was a stir at the door and
Mrs. Banker, in her velvet and diamonds, appeared, and with her Helen
Lennox, but so transformed that Juno hardly knew her, looking twice ere
she was sure that the beautiful young lady, so wholly self-possessed,
was indeed the country girl she affected to despise.
"Who is she?" was asked by many, who at once acknowledged her claims to
their attention, and as soon as practicable sought her acquaintance, so
that Helen suddenly found herself the center of a little court of which
she was the queen and Mark her sworn knight.
Presuming upon his mother's chaperonage, he claimed the right of
attending her, and Juno's glory waned quite as effectually as it had
done when Katy was the leading star to which New York paid homage.
Juno had been annoyed then, but now fierce jealousy took possession
of her heart as she watched the girl whom all seemed to admire, even
Wilford feeling a thrill of pride that the possession of so attractive
a sister-in-law reflected credit upon himself.
He was not ashamed of her now, nor did he retain a single thought of the
farmhouse or Uncle Ephraim as he made his way to her side, standing
protectingly at her left, just as Mark was standing at her right, and
at last asking her to dance.
With a heightened color Helen declined, saying frankly:
"I have never learned."
"You miss a great deal," Wilford rejoined, appealing to Mark for a
confirmation of his words.
But Mark did not heartily respond. He, too, had solicited Helen as a
partner when the dancing first commenced, and her quiet refusal had
disappointed him a little, for Mark was fond of dancing, and though
as a general thing he disapproved of waltzes and polkas when he was the
looker-on, he felt that there would be something vastly agreeable and
exhilarating in clasping Helen in his arm and whirling her about the
room just as Juno was being whirled by a young cadet, a friend of
Lieutenant Bob's. But when he reflected that not his arm alone would
encircle her waist, or his breath touch her snowy neck, he was glad she
did not dance, and professing a weariness he did not feel, he declined
to join the dancers on the floor, but kept with Helen, enjoying what she
enjoyed, and putting her so perfectly at her ease that no one would ever
have dreamed of the curdy cheeses she had made, or the pounds of butter
she had churned. But Mark thought of it as he secretly admired the neck
and arms seen once before on that memorable day when he assisted Helen
in the labors of the dairy. If nothing else had done so, the lily in
her hair would have brought that morning to his mind, and once as they
walked up and down the hall he spoke of the ornament she had chosen, and
how well it became her.
"Pond lilies are my pets," she said, "and I have kept one of those I
gathered last fall when at Silverton. Do you remember them?" and his
eyes rested upon Helen with a look that made her blush as she faintly
answered "yes"; but she did not tell him of a little box at home, a box
made of cones and acorns, and where was hidden a withered water lily,
which she could not throw away, even after its beauty and fragrance had
departed.
Had she told him this it might have put to flight the doubts troubling
Mark so much, and making him wonder if Dr. Grant had really a claim upon
the girl stealing his heart so fast.
"I mean to sound her," he thought, and as just then Lieutenant Bob
passed by, making some jocose remark about his offending all the fair
ones by the course he was taking, Mark said to Helen, who suggested
returning to the parlor:
"As you like, though it cannot matter; a person known to be engaged is
above Bob Reynolds' jokes."
Quick as thought the hot blood stained Helen's face and neck, for Mark
had made a most egregious blunder, giving her only the impression that
he was the engaged one referred to, not herself, and for a moment she
forgot the gay scene around her in the sharpness of the pang with which
she recognized all that Mark Ray was to her.
"It was kind in him to warn me. I wish it had been sooner," she thought,
and then with a bitter feeling of shame she wondered how much he had
guessed of her real feelings, and who the betrothed one was. "Not Juno
Cameron," she hoped, as after a few moments Mrs. Cameron came up, and
adroitly detaching Mark from her side, took his place while he sauntered
to a group of ladies and was ere long dancing merrily with Juno, whose
crimson robe once brushed against Helen's pink, and whose black eyes
looked exultingly into Helen's face.
"They are a well-matched pair," Mrs. Cameron said, assuming a very
confidential manner toward Helen, who assented to the remark, while the
lady continued: "There is but one thing wrong about Mark Ray. He is a
most unscrupulous flirt, pleased with every new face, and this of course
annoys Juno."
"Are they engaged?" came faintly and involuntarily from Helen's lips,
while Mrs. Cameron's foot beat the carpet with a very becoming
hesitancy, as she replied: "Oh, that was settled in our family a long
time ago. Wilford and Mark have always been like brothers."
If Helen had been on the watch for equivocations she would not have
placed as much stress as she did on Mrs. Cameron's words, for that lady
did not say positively "They are engaged." She could not quite bring
herself to a deliberate falsehood, which, if detected, would reflect
upon her character as a lady, but she could mislead Helen, and she did
so effectually, as was evinced by the red spot which burned on her
cheeks, and by her uncertain way of replying to a gentleman who stood by
her for a moment, addressing to her some casual remark and departing
with the impression that Miss Lennox was very timid and shy. After he
was gone, Mrs. Cameron continued, "It is not like us to bruit our
affairs abroad, and were my daughter ten times engaged, the world would
be none the wiser. I doubt if even Katy suspects what I have admitted;
but knowing how fascinating Mark can be, and that just at present he
seems to be pleased with you, I have acted as I should wish a friend to
act toward my own child. Were it not that you are one of our family, I
might not have interfered, and I trust you not to repeat even to Katy
what I have said."
Helen nodded assent, while in her heart was a wild tumult of
feelings--flattered pride, disappointment, indignation and mortification
all struggling for the mastery---mortification to feel that she who had
quietly ignored such a passion as love when connected with herself, had,
nevertheless, been pleased with the attentions of one who was only
amusing himself with her, as a child amuses itself with some new toy
soon to be thrown aside--indignation at him for vexing Juno at her
expense--disappointment that he should care for such as Juno, and
flattered pride that Mrs. Cameron should include her in "our family."
Helen had as few weak points as most young ladies, but she was not free
from them all, and the fact that Mrs. Cameron had taken her into a
confidence which even Katy did not share, was soothing to her ruffled
spirits, particularly as after that confidence Mrs. Cameron was
excessively gracious to her, introducing her to many whom she did not
know before, and paying her numberless little attentions, which made
Juno stare, while the clearer-seeing Bell arched her eyebrows, and
wondered for what Helen was to be made a catspaw by her clever mother.
Whatever it was, it did not appear, save as it showed itself in Helen's
slightly changed demeanor when Mark again sought her society, and tried
to bring back to her face the look he had left there. But something
evidently had come between them, and the young man racked his brain to
find the cause of this sudden indifference in one who had been pleased
with him only a short half hour before.
"It's that confounded waltzing which disgusted her," he said, "and no
wonder, for if ever a man looks like an idiot, it is when he is kicking
up his heels to the sound of a viol, and wheeling around some woman
whose skirts sweep everything within the circle of a rod, and whose face
wears that die-away expression I have so often noticed. I've half a mind
to swear I'll never dance again."
But Mark was too fond of dancing to quit it at once, and finding Helen
still indifferent, he yielded to circumstances, and the last she saw of
him, as at a comparatively early hour she left the gay scene, he was
dancing again with Juno, whose face beamed with a triumphant look, as if
she in some way guessed the aching heart her rival carried home. It was
a heavy blow to Helen, for she had become greatly interested in Mark
Ray, whose attentions had made her stay in New York so pleasant. But
these were over now--at least the excitement they brought was over, and
Helen, as she sat in her dressing-room at home, and thought of the
future as well as the past, felt stealing over her a sense of desolation
and loneliness such as she had experienced but once before, and that on
the night when leaning from her window at the farmhouse where Mark Ray
was stopping she had shuddered and shrank from living all her days among
the rugged hills of Silverton. New York had opened an entirely new world
to her, showing her much that was vain and frivolous, with much too,
that was desirable and good; and if there had crept into her heart the
vague thought that a life with such people as Mrs. Banker and those who
frequented her house would be preferable to a life in Silverton, where
only Morris understood her, it was but the natural result of daily
intercourse with one who had studied to please and interest as Mark Ray
had done. But Helen had too much good sense and strength of will long to
indulge in what she would have called "love-sick regrets" in others, and
she began to devise the best course for her to adopt hereafter,
concluding finally to treat him much as she had done, lest he should
suspect how deeply she had been wounded. Now that she knew of his
engagement, it would be an easy matter, she thought, so to demean
herself as neither to annoy Juno nor really to vex him. Thoroughly now
she understood why Juno Cameron had seemed to dislike her so much.
"It is natural," she said, "and yet I honestly believe I like her better
for knowing what I do. There must be some good beneath that proud
exterior, or Mark would never seek her."
Still, look at it from any point she chose, it seemed a strange,
unsuitable match, and Helen's heart ached sadly as she finally retired
to rest, thinking what might have been had Juno Cameron found some other
lover more like her than Mark could ever be.