Part 20 (1/2)
”Strong-minded,” was her final decision, as she said at last: ”We promised Katy she should see you to-night. Will you go now?”
Then the color left Helen's face and lips, and her limbs shook perceptibly, for the knowing she was soon to meet her sister unnerved her; but by the time the door of Katy's room was reached she was herself again, and there was no need for Mrs. Cameron to whisper: ”Pray do not excite her.”
Katy heard her coming, and it required all Wilford's and the nurse's efforts to keep her quiet, so great was her joy.
”Helen, Helen, darling, darling sister,” she cried, as she wound her arms around Helen's neck, and laid her golden head on Helen's bosom, sobbing in a low, mournful way which told Helen more how much she was beloved and had been longed for than did the weak, childish voice which whispered: ”I've wanted you so much, oh, Helen; you don't know how much I've missed you all the years I've been away. You will not leave me now,” and Katy clung closer to the dear sister who gently unclasped the clinging arms and put back upon the pillow the quivering face, which she kissed so tenderly, whispering in her own old half-soothing, half-commanding way: ”Be quiet now, Katy. It's best that you should.
No, I will not leave you.”
Next to Dr. Grant, Helen had more influence over Katy than any living being, and it was very apparent now, for as if her presence had a power to soothe, Katy grew very quiet, and utterly wearied out, slept for a few moments with Helen's hand fast locked in hers. When she awoke the tired look was gone, and turning to her sister, she said: ”Have you seen my baby?” while the young mother love which broke so beautifully over her pale face, made it the face of an angel.
”It seems so funny that it is Katy's baby,” Helen said, taking the puny little thing, which with its wrinkled face and red, clinched fists was not very attractive to her, save as she looked at it with Katy's eyes.
She did not even kiss it, but her tears dropped upon its head as she thought how short the time since up in the old garret at home she had dressed rag dolls for the Katy who was now a mother. And still in a measure she was the same, hugging Helen fondly when she said good-night, and welcoming her so joyfully in the morning when she came again, telling her how just the sight of her sitting there by baby's crib did her so much good.
”I shall get well so fast,” she said; and she was right, for Helen was worth far more to her than all the physician's powders, and Wilford, when he saw how she improved, was glad that Helen came, even if she did sometimes shock him with her independent ways, upsetting all his plans and theories with regard to Katy, and meeting him on other grounds with an opposition as puzzling as it was new to him.
To Mrs. Cameron, Helen was also a study, she seemed to care so little for what others might think of her, evincing no hesitation, no timidity, when told one day, the second day after her arrival, that Mrs. Banker was in the parlor and had asked to see Miss Lennox. Mrs. Cameron did not suspect how under that calm, unmoved exterior, Helen was hiding a heart which beat most painfully as she went down to meet the mother of Mark Ray, going first to her own room to make some little change in her toilet, and wis.h.i.+ng that her dress was more like the dress of those around her--like Mrs. Cameron's, or even Esther's and the fas.h.i.+onable nurse's. One glance she gave to the brown silk, Wilford's gift, but her good sense told her that the plain merino she wore was far more suitable to the sickroom, where she spent her time, and so with a fresh collar and cuffs, and another brush of her rich hair, she went to Mrs. Banker, forgetting herself in her pleasure at finding in the stranger a lady so wholly congenial and familiar, whose mild, dark eyes, so like Mark Ray's, rested so kindly on her, and whose pleasant voice had something motherly in its tone, putting her wholly at her ease, and making her appear at her very best.
Mrs. Banker was pleased with Helen, while she felt a kind of pity for the young girl thrown so suddenly among strangers, without even her sister to aid and a.s.sist her.
”Have you been out at all?” she asked, and upon Helen's replying that she had not, she answered: ”That is not right. Accustomed to the fresh country air, you will suffer from too close confinement. Suppose you ride with me. My carriage is at the door, and I have a few hours'
leisure. Tell your sister I insist,” she continued, as Helen hesitated between inclination and what she fancied was her duty.
To see New York with Mrs. Banker was a treat indeed, and Helen's heart bounded high as she ran up to Katy's room with the request.
”Yes, by all means,” Katy said. ”It is so kind in Mrs. Banker, and so like her, too. I meant that Wilford should have driven with you to-day, and spoke to him about it, but Mrs. Banker will do better. Tell her I thank her so much for her thoughtfulness,” and with a kiss Katy sent Helen away, while Mrs. Cameron, after twisting her rings nervously for a moment, said to Katy:
”Perhaps your sister would do well to wear your furs. Hers are small and common fitch.”
”Yes, certainly. Take them to her,” Katy answered, knowing intuitively the feeling which had prompted this suggestion from her mother-in-law, who hastened to Helen's room with the rich sable she was to wear in place of the old fitch.
Helen appreciated the difference at once between her furs and Katy's, and felt a pang of mortification as she saw how old and poor and dowdy hers were beside the others. But they were her own; the best she could afford. She would not begin by borrowing, and so she declined the offer, and greatly to Mrs. Cameron's horror went down to Mrs. Banker clad in the despised furs, which Mrs. Cameron would on no account have had beside her on Broadway in an open carriage. Mrs. Banker noticed them, too, but the eager, happy face, which grew each moment brighter as they drove down the street, more than made amends; and in watching that and pointing out the places which they pa.s.sed, Mrs. Banker forgot the furs and the coa.r.s.e straw hat whose strings of black had undeniably been dyed. Never in her life had Helen enjoyed a ride as she did that pleasant winter day, when her kind friend took her wherever she wished to go, showing her Broadway in its glory from Union Square to Wall Street, where they encountered Mark in a bustling crowd. He saw them, too, and beckoned to them, while Helen's face grew red as, lifting his hat to her, he came up to the carriage, and at his mother's suggestion took a seat just opposite, asking where they had been and jocosely laughing at his mother's taste in selecting such localities as the Bowery, the Tombs and Barnum's Museum, when there were so many finer places to be seen.
Helen felt the hot blood p.r.i.c.king the roots of her hair, for the Bowery, the Tombs and Barnum's Museum had been her choice as the points of which she had heard the most. So when Mark continued:
”You shall ride with me, Miss Lennox, and I will show you something worth your seeing,” she frankly answered:
”Your mother is not in fault, Mr. Ray. She asked me where I wished to go, and I mentioned these places; so please attribute it wholly to my country breeding, and not to your mother's lack of taste.”
There was something in the frank speech which won Mrs. Banker's heart, while she felt an increased respect for the young girl, who, she saw, was keenly sensitive, even with all her strength of character.
”You were quite right to commence as you have,” she said, ”for now you have a still greater treat in store, and Mark shall drive you to the park some day. I know you will like that.”
Helen felt that she should like anything with that friendly voice to rea.s.sure her, and leaning back she was thinking how pleasant it was to be in New York, how different from what she had expected, when a bow from Mark made her look up in time to see that they were meeting a carriage, in which sat Wilford, and with two gayly-dressed ladies, both of whom gave her a supercilious stare as they pa.s.sed by, while the younger of the two half turned her head, as if for a more prolonged gaze.
”Mrs. Grandon and Juno Cameron,” Mrs. Banker said, making some further remark to her son; while Helen felt that the brightness of the day changed, for she could not be unconscious of the look with which she had been regarded by these two fas.h.i.+onable ladies, and again her furs came up before her, bringing a feeling of which she was ashamed, especially as she had fancied herself above all weakness of the kind.
But Helen was a woman, with a woman's nature, and so that ride was not without its annoyance, though her face was very bright as she bade Mrs.
Banker and Mark good-by, and then ran up the steps to Katy's home. That night at the dinner, from which Mrs. Cameron was absent, Wilford was unusually gracious, asking ”had she enjoyed her ride, and if she did not find Mrs. Banker a very pleasant acquaintance.”