CHAPTER XVIII
WRIT IN AN UNKNOWN TONGUE
There were girls who envied Helen Grant, who thought they would changeplaces with her in a minute if they could. She wrote to Uncle Jason andexplained that it would not be possible to come home. School closed onthe 28th of June, on the 3d of July they would leave on the steamer atNew York. She sent the same message to Mrs. Dayton, with the wish thatshe might be able to come and see her off, but she didn't suppose itwould be possible. She secretly hoped Mr. Warfield might make it so.
One of the schoolgirls, a graduate, would go home at once and meet themat the steamer. The other two resided in New York. Mrs. Aldred was muchengrossed with business matters and her preparations.
The second week in June, when examinations had just begun, Mr. Castlescame up one evening. They were almost through dinner and Mrs. Aldredclosed the door of the reception room and desired that no one shoulddisturb 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 fullinstructions. Mrs. Van Dorn's body would be brought home and buriedbeside her husband. Miss Gage was to have all personal belongingsinventoried 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 thefather'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 theafternoon, which Miss Gage said upset her very much. They went to areception in the evening at the Embassy, she seeming in her usualhealth, but not quite placid. It was very warm and she fainted, it wassupposed, but the physician who was called pronounced her dead. This Mr.Fenton insisted upon taking charge of everything, so I cabled myinstructions 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 wouldnot have much to leave behind. The money was from her husband, and ifshe chose to live extravagantly it was no one's affairs."
"I am glad you take it philosophically," and he gave a faint smile."When she was about sixty-five she put nearly all her money in anannuity so she would have no further care. She told me that she had nonear relatives."
"That was true enough."
"So she lived very handsomely at times, at others quite plainly. Sheplaced in my hands a sum amply sufficient for her burial, which hasnever been disturbed. I collected and paid over her annuity. There maybe a few thousands beside. The income, you know, stopped with her death.So there will be nothing for the heirs."
"I for one shall not complain. She paid generously for her _protege_,six months in advance. She sent for her and I was to take her over withme; calling on you in all business matters."
"Yes, she notified me. It was Mrs. Van Dorn's intention to keepthis young girl with her the rest of her life. Her last letter tome was as buoyant as that of any young person. She was certainlywonderful--eighty-six in March. It seemed to me as if she might havelived to be a hundred. I am afraid the talk of that man Fenton did notdo her any good."
"It is a great shock. I can hardly believe it."
"What friends has this girl, if any?"
"Oh, some relatives at a small town in a neighboring State, an uncle whohas cared for her. She is a bright, ambitious girl, and I _do_ regretthe death for her sake. I am glad there is someone she can turn to, butI think she has the courage to work her way up, with a helping hand nowand then."
"And you do not know about this Mr. Fenton?"
"Nothing much. I once heard her say that after Mr. Van Dorn's death heapplied to her for some money for business purposes and she refused. Ithink she was not favorably impressed with him."
"Well, there will not be much for anyone to have. I think this annuitywas by her husband's advice, and it has saved her a good deal of care. Ithought it best for you to know at once and I did want to learn how thegirl was situated. Do you suppose she will be bitterly disappointed?"
"She will be very much shocked and grieved."
"It would have been the same if she had adopted her. She could have madeno provision for her future."
"No," thoughtfully.
"And now I must take a night train back, as I am very busy. I will keepyou informed as to matters."
"We sail on the 3d of July."
"The body will be here before that."
She walked down to the street with him; then took a rustic seat andconsidered Helen Grant's future in so far as she could, but every momentshe felt more regret that her bright hopes should be so suddenlyquenched. She resolved to say nothing at present until she had evolved aplan floating through her mind.
It was true Mrs. Van Dorn had not reached the period appointed byherself. She had felt sure of ninety years. There were times when shefeared that nature was on the wane, but she still took excellent care ofherself.
This Mr. Fenton had besieged her for some money in the spring and aliberal allowance in her will. As far as she could trace therelationship there were but two families who had any claim on her, andhis was one. She had put him off with a sarcastic promise of taking herwill into consideration, then her quick wit intervened.
"If I should die without a will you would share equally. I think I willlet it go that way."
That was all the satisfaction he could get. She hoped never to see himagain. But he had found her in Paris, and again importuned her. She hadso much she could surely spare him a little now. She allowed herself thegratification then of explaining the annuity to him and that she meantto spend her income in each year. He flew into a passion and called hersome harsh names, when she had left him alone with a very curtdismissal. She had been more provoked than excited. There were somespecial reasons why she wished to attend this reception and she went.Whether it might have been different or whether she had reached herallotted span, only God knew.
The next few days Mrs. Aldred took especial pains with Helen. She mustbe able to enter the graduating class. Helen was delighted with theattention, and repaid it with earnest endeavor.
Mr. Castles sent word that Miss Gage had started with the body.
Helen had passed most of her examinations when Mrs. Aldred very tenderlyinformed her of the sad news, and how almost incredulous she had been atfirst.
"Of course, this changes all the plans," she said, when she had givenHelen time for her first anguish. "But I have been talking with Mrs.Wiley, who is quite willing to take you for some of the younger classes,a year or two years, and in that time you can graduate. It is best thatyou should have a diploma. You are very young yet, and will be morecapable of facing the world at eighteen. I really have no fear for you,and am confident you will succeed."
"I cannot thank you sufficiently now," Helen answered. "I am bewildered.May I be excused from dinner?"
"Yes, and anything you desire to-morrow. You have my warmest sympathy,and I feel that I do not want to lose sight of you in the years tocome."
It was a sad night for Helen, a sad day following; indeed, it took allthe joy out of the graduation exercises for her. Mrs. Wiley made herproffer and Helen accepted it.
"So you see we shall not be separated after all," she said to both Daisyand Miss Craven, and the latter began to weave some plans for the futurethat she would keep to herself until the time came. Ah, if she couldrepay Helen's kindnesses!
Miss Gage reached New York the first day of July. Most of the girls haddispersed from the school. Helen was to go to the city with Mrs.Aldred's party.
The day before a telegram from Mrs. Dayton reached her, containing thisastounding news:
"Your father has returned. You will find him staying with me."
Could it be true--after all these years?
Helen seemed to herself as one in a dream. Her sorrow for Mrs. Van Dornhad grown wit
h every hour and she almost abhorred herself that sheshould ever have hesitated a moment about devoting her whole life to herbenefactress, who had only asked for a few years. But this new claim!She could not ignore it. How many times she had wished for his return!But all these years he had made no sign, expressed no desire to knowwhether she were living or dead. The neglect stung her cruelly.
She had no time to consider this phase of affairs. She had about decidedto accept Mrs. Wiley's offer. There would be home and training foranother year, and she felt confident now that she could graduate. On theother hand, there would be clothes and small current expenses even withthe strictest economy. She would be a young lady, and she shrank indismay from all that implied; but now she was quite at sea. There was noone to "give the word," and pilot her through the windings.
She went to the city with Mrs. Aldred and Grace. The other voyagers werealready there. The first business on hand was a visit to the lawyer's,where Miss Gage would meet them.
The story was substantially what the companion had written. Mrs. VanDorn had gone out of life in that moment of time when she had feltconfident of some years before her. She had been spared suffering anddread.
"When all expenses are met there may be a thousand or two thousanddollars," explained Mr. Castles. "Mr. Fenton insists upon calling forthe strictest accounting, which he has a right to do, of course, andthis means the small residue will be divided between you," bowing toMrs. Aldred, "and himself. I suppose she thought she would have solittle to divide it was not worth making a will. He insists the valuablejewels shall be sold. But here is one point in which I think you willbear me out in believing the law has no right over. Mrs. Van Dorn gaveme each year a sum to be spent on Miss Grant. It was her desire, and amost excellent idea, I think," smiling vaguely, "that Miss Grant shouldnot fall into extravagant habits. There was a small amount left overwhen she made the new allowance. This, I take it, belongs to Miss HelenGrant, and I propose to pay it over to her at once. It is a privatematter."
"I agree with you perfectly," returned Mrs. Aldred, in an approvingtone; glad, indeed, that it could be so. "I wish I dared double orquadruple it, but I have no right. This will be precious to you, MissGrant, as the gift of your benefactress. I know it was in her heart totreat you as if you were a near relative, a granddaughter, as she saidin a late letter."
Helen's eyes overflowed, but she could not trust her voice.
"It is a lovely remembrance," added Mrs. Aldred with much feeling. "AndHelen is worthy of it."
The lawyer handed her the envelope, but she was too much moved toinspect its contents.
"Now, you and Miss Gage may take the ante-room, as I am certain thatstep prefigures Mr. Fenton," the lawyer announced.
Miss Gage had much to say to the young girl.
"I am so glad you wrote just that letter of gratitude," she began. "Icannot describe Mrs. Van Dorn's delight to you. She was almost childishover it and read it again and again, and though she was not sentimentalabout keeping letters, I found this in a box of trinkets and havebrought it back to you. She was not an effusive woman, but I think shecounted a great deal on having your entire love. You see I was one of afamily who have always been very dear to each other, and who clungtogether as few families do. In the autumn I was to go home, as she hadfound a most excellent maid, who was also quite a practised nurse. Mrs.Van Dorn liked society and style and had many fashionable friends who_did_ admire her, and then she would have a few months of simplicity,and quiet living, which she believed preserved one's health and mentalfaculties. No one would have supposed she was eighty-six--I did not knowit until Mr. Castles told me. I do very much regret she could not havelived a few years longer; you would have had a charming time, and therewould have been no relatives to interfere."
Helen winced, but said nothing.
"She has purchased various articles the last year for you, boxes oftrinkets marked with your name and put in my hands for safe keeping.Hardly a week before that sad day she came home one morning with theeager interest of a young person. She had bought a beautiful inlaid boxwith fine brass handles, and some new things, and bade me look up allthe others and put them in, and said laughingly it was a treasure troveand when she was especially pleased she should bring you a gift out ofit. Mr. Castles has it, and will hand it over to you. I cannot tell youhow sorry I am you will not have this delightful time abroad. She wascounting on your enthusiasm to inspire her, to make her over, she usedto say. She had many admirable qualities. Of course, there were ways andwhims and times of depression when she looked to her companion to cheerher. I think now they were the little advances of age that sheresolutely refused to yield to. She was very just, she abhorred plainfalsehood, though I suppose most elderly women do indulge in somemake-believes," smiling a little sadly.
It was evident from the sound of voices in the adjoining room that Mr.Fenton was not having an agreeable time. He insisted the heirs had beengrievously wronged by this annuity business.
"As if the money was not hers to do what she chose with it," said MissGage. "And it seems as if the Van Dorn relatives would be the ones toobject since the money came that way. I am glad she had her ownsatisfactory life, and she has made others happy as well, even if thereis not much left."
Mr. Fenton found that he could not take the matter in hand himself, andthat he must wait for the due process of law before he could get eventhe small sum that would come to him. Mrs. Aldred had to say good-by andgo to the steamer. Helen was to write to her and she still stronglyadvised her going back to Aldred House. Would it be possible?
Mr. Castles brought out the pretty box of treasures and delivered it toHelen. The clerk would put her on the train and see her started on herjourney; Miss Gage had to remain with the lawyer, but her good-by wasvery sympathetic and tender, and she, too, begged Helen to write, as sheshould always take a deep interest in her.
Helen settled herself for the long journey and the endeavor todisentangle the events that had so crowded upon her these few days.Whether she should go back to Aldred House did not altogether dependupon herself. True, one perplexing question was settled--she took outher envelope and examined its contents. Five fifty-dollar bills, a ten,and a five beside. Two hundred and sixty-five dollars. She could gothrough another year successfully, and though she would still be young,she could no doubt find a place to teach.
But what if this should be the end of school life? Her whole being roseup in revolt. She had mentally protested against giving it up forpleasure, she remembered, but that would have been going on in knowledgeof all kinds, climbing up and up, drinking in the juices of the fruitripened and preserved long ago, that would never lose its flavor. And totake was not all, to give presently, to rouse some unthinking girl asshe had been roused, to reach out a helping hand--yes, she had helpedJuliet Craven over the thorny way, through the dense forest wherelearning was well-nigh smothered with parasitic growths that could becleared away and let in sunshine. Ah, there were many lives needing it.
And now, when one unlooked-for event had cleared the way, this new onemust arise.
What was her father like? she wondered. She really had no definite ortrustworthy impression of him. As a little child she had stood in greatawe of him, though she could not remember that he had ever been severewith her. Her mother had complained a good deal, and she always said,"Your father," as if the child was in some way answerable for theinfelicities. Aunt Jane had given cruel flings sometimes, and generallyscoffed at him as being impractical and a complete failure.
But what hurt Helen the most was that all these years he should not havecared enough to write even to Uncle Jason. She, Helen, might have died,or misfortune might have attended Uncle Jason and the house been brokenup, she cast on the charities of the world. He could not know.
How had she come by this fine sense of justice, this clear sight in somany things, this comprehension of honor and the right of every humansoul? She was suddenly a puzzle to herself. Was this the outgrowth ofthe wild, laughing, merry child, ready f
or any fun or frolic ormischief, who ran races with boys, and could play ball, climb trees,jump higher fence-rails than any girl, and be proud of it? Yet, werenot these things modified in the gymnasium? So she need not blush overit, or be ashamed of the riotous childhood.
And why had she protested so strenuously against going in the shoeshop?Where did these curious qualities and contradictions come from? Did shereally owe her awakening to Mr. Warfield? Would she have been content inthe Mulford groove but for him? Yet all these feelings and desires musthave been in her brain, inherited from somewhere.
What might not her father demand of her? Perhaps he was an invalid, andeven now she, with aims and purposes settled on a higher plane, might becompelled to spend years of waiting in which there would be no pleasure,no satisfaction. Could she do it? Had he the right to ask it?
She was coming nearer and nearer to the momentous decision. Oh, _was_she leaving the dear, bright, fascinating schooldays behind her, thefriends of girlhood, the ambitious climbing where it seemed almost as ifone had winged feet, the delightful life with its discussions, itsshaping of tastes, its comparison of heroes, when they almost quarreled,each being so eager and confident of her own, the lovely walks,unearthing the secrets of nature growths, the pretty, touchingconfidences so much to girls, the expansion everywhere; two splendid,joyous years of improvement, draining the real secrets of knowledge tohelp explain the mysteries of life,--was it all over?
They were coming nearer to all the Hopes. A hard little smile settledabout her lips. How queer they should have called it Hope, this dead andalive place, where hope could be so easily crushed? Would she abandonhope when she entered?
They steamed into the station, backed a little for some cause, then cameforward again. She was on the off-side so she need not look out of thewindow. She waited for the small procession to pass out of the aisle,then she picked up her satchel and her precious box. Mr. Warfield stoodwatching, and her heart beat more freely. He took her satchel when theconductor had helped her down, and studied her face eagerly.
"I began to wonder if you were on the train. Are you tired? It is a longjourney."
The friendly voice seemed to restore her.
"Not especially tired," she answered slowly.
They walked on in silence, but a question trembled about her lips.
"Were you tremendously surprised? Of course, one couldn't giveparticulars in a telegram."
"Why--yes, after believing him dead all these years. Is he--is he well?"
That was not what she wanted to ask.
"Yes, I think so. Mrs. Dayton said he had not changed very much. He isfifty-four and looks seventy. But, oh, the learning! He certainly has'ransacked the ages.'"
"And I suppose it will seem strange to him to have a big girl?" Therewas a little falter in Helen's voice, and she flushed and paled.
"Well--he almost expected you had gone through college," and Mr.Warfield gave his shoulders a shrug. "I can tell you he has no faith inmodern education. And I do believe he would rather have you forty thansixteen."
"I am glad to be only sixteen," Helen returned with decision. "Life is asplendid thing and youth is its garden of growth, and I am more thansatisfied to be still in the lovely garden."
She held her head up very straight, and the poise of her shoulders wasfine and vigorous. She would not be made old for anybody. She would nothurry through any sweet year of her life.
"There will be some clashing," thought Mr. Warfield. "And I do believeshe will win."
"When did he come?" she asked presently. "And where has he been allthese years?"
"The last year in the British Museum. Before that buried in the ruins ofthe lost cities of the Bible, read now by cylinders and tablet platesand inscriptions on stone. Well, it _is_ wonderful to know so much, tobe able to reconstruct dead and gone ages. He reached here four or fivedays ago and surprised the Mulfords; came over here and engaged boardwhen he heard you were on the eve of return; went up to New York andreached here last night."
Of course, he might have written her a few words.
"And that wonderful old lady of yours is dead! Wouldn't it have beenqueer if you had started for Europe? Oh, here we are!" and he opened thegate.
Helen walked straight up the path, and the man pacing the porch pausedat the steps. He was tall and thin, with a bend in the shoulders, andhis clothes hung loosely on him. His face had a sort of shrunken lookand was much wrinkled, his beard was sparse and snowy white, and hiswhite hair was rather long with curling ends. He looked like an oldpicture, but he was a gentleman every inch of him.
"Oh!" Helen exclaimed with a gasp.
He took both hands, looked her over from head to foot, then touched hislips to her forehead.
He looked like an old picture, but he was a gentlemanevery inch of him.--_Page 390._]
"You're not a bit like your mother," and Helen detected a sense ofrelief in his tone.
Could he remember all these years? Almost a sob came up in her throat.Yes, girl life had ended. "I am glad and thankful that I have you torecall, happy, happy schooldays," she said to herself. "No one can takethat from me. Oh, Mrs. Van Dorn! I hope you know what all this has beento me, what it will be in the years to come."
They were parent and child, but they had to begin life over, a new lifeto her. His way was settled. Would hers have to yield?
The future seemed to hold problems no less serious than those which hadconfronted her in the past. But there had been some way provided foreach difficulty thus far, as we have seen, and how the brave girl madegood use of what her schooldays had done for her can at some time in thefuture be learned by reading "Helen Grant's Friends."
THE END
Helen Grant's Schooldays Page 20
