A Colony of Girls Part 30

"Your sister is in love with Mr. Farr."

"Oh!" gasped Helen, staring blankly at her friend.

"I only wonder you have not seen it before," added Miss Stuart coolly.

"Don't you think he is in love with her?" blundered Helen, who had not sufficiently recovered from her astonishment to be very wise in Jean's behalf.

The answer was incisive:

"I do not."

The hot tears rushed to Helen's eyes.

"Oh, my poor little Jean!"

Miss Stuart turned away and, to save herself, spoke harshly:

"For Heaven's sake, Helen, don't cry. It is such a weak thing to do."

The sharp words brought Helen suddenly to a realization of what she had done in thus accepting, without demur, Miss Stuart's statement in regard to Jean. Too late she remembered that it was little short of disloyalty to discuss the subject with an outsider; an outsider, moreover, who had never made any pretense of liking her sister. She resolved to retrieve herself if possible, and answered not a little proudly:

"I am sorry I offended you, Lillian. We often differ in our opinions as to what is weak and what is not."

"Not often, but always," Lillian broke in with a disagreeable laugh.

"Where I was weak," continued Helen, ignoring utterly the interruption, "was, in laying too much stress on your verdict in regard to my sister. I am not authorized to contradict your statement, but I think it is more than probable that your perceptions have been at fault. In regard to Mr. Farr, he has certainly seemed to both like and admire Jean. Once or twice I have even thought him very much concerned about her. Why, at the dance----"

"I imagine, my dear, that your perceptions are equally as faulty as my own. It may interest you to learn that Mr. Farr and I were at one time engaged; that he loved me madly, and that my breaking of the engagement was a terrible blow to him. It is possible, however, since in your opinion Mr. Farr has transferred his affections from me to your sister, that he has already confessed this to her." The taunting words were spoken lightly, but Miss Stuart's eyes searched Helen's face. What she saw there must have satisfied her, for she turned aside with an air of relief.

There was a brief pause, which was broken by a question from Helen:

"Does Mr. Farr still care for you, Lillian?"

The clear truthful eyes met Miss Stuart's squarely, and under their steady gaze she moved restively. It was not easy to tell a direct lie to Helen. She bent her head, and a slow flush mounted to her face.

"That is hardly fair, Helen. He certainly has not told me of any change in his feeling toward me." She flung back her head and her l.u.s.trous eyes held a challenge. "You have seen him with me. What do you think?"

Her face was alight with power and magnetism; the scarlet lips were slightly parted, as the breath came hurriedly through them; one firm white hand on her breast held together the loose folds of her dressing-gown, which fell about her superb figure in long, graceful lines. At that moment she was regal, majestic.

Helen gazed at her steadfastly, and her heart sank.

"Poor little Jean," she thought hopelessly. "What could she do?"

For Helen, as was her wont, laid too much stress upon her friend's great beauty of face and form, and overlooked the deeper beauty of her sister's soul.

As she crept into bed that night she murmured to herself:

"I must warn Jean, gently and lovingly. G.o.d grant it may not be too late."

Her opportunity came the very next evening, for directly dinner was finished Nathalie and Miss Stuart started off on a long-planned ride with Churchill and Andrews. Jean stood on the veranda to watch them mount and ride away. Her eyes followed them until their four figures, swaying slightly with the motion of the horses, were no longer silhouetted against the evening sky, then descended the broad flight of steps, and wandered out into the garden. The sun had already set, but the earth was still wrapped in the mystic light of the purple after-glow. Once in the sweet old-fashioned garden Jean paced slowly up and down the trim paths, bordered by rows of fragrant mignonette and carnations, and flanked at the corners by tall hollyhocks and slender poppies, and into her sad heart stole something of the peace and quiet of the tranquil spot.

"It is all so strange and incomprehensible," ran her thoughts, "but I am not going to worry about it. There must be some mistake somewhere.

I believed in him so implicitly. I felt so sure of his love--oh, I cannot, I will not believe that he deliberately deceived me. If only he were here now, while she is away, I am sure that everything could be explained. Oh, he might come--he might be honest with me!"

The garden gate clicked, and she looked up with startled eyes; but it was only Helen coming down the path to meet her.

"Why did you run away?" her sister asked as she linked her arm in hers.

"I didn't run very fast," smiled Jean. "I sauntered out when the girls started off for their ride. It is so restful here," she added in a lower tone.

"That doesn't sound one bit like you, Jean," said Helen slowly. "I am afraid something must be troubling you, if you feel the need of a restful place where you can be alone."

Jean laughed nervously.

"Why, what an absurd idea, Helen. Why should I be unhappy?"

"That is just what I don't know, dear, but I think you are."

"Well, what if I am?" cried Jean, brought to bay. "One cannot always be perfectly contented and happy; I do not suppose that I am to be any more exempt than other people."

Helen's eyes were bent on the ground, and she spoke with some hesitation.

"Of course that is true enough, but there is usually some definite cause for unhappiness. I don't want to be impertinent, Jean, but is there not some one thing weighing on you at present? Has--" She paused, then went on desperately--"has Mr. Farr anything to do with it?"

She felt the violent start that Jean gave, heard the sharp indrawing of her breath, and she did not dare to raise her eyes to her sister's face for fear of reading there still further confirmation of her surmises. She had need of all her courage yet to deal the cruel blow, and without pausing for breath, she hurried on. Her words were confused, incoherent, but they struck a chill as of death to Jean's tender heart.

"It was only a foolish idea of mine, Jeanie. Of course there is no truth in it--there can't be--there must not be. He--that is, I have just discovered that he is deeply in love with Lillian. They have been engaged, and I fear the engagement is about to be renewed. Why, darling, he is not worthy of a thought of yours. Forget him, Jean, darling. It is only your imagination." Her voice choked, and she ended abruptly.

For an instant not a sound broke the stillness, then Jean faced her sister with strained, wide-open eyes, and spoke to her in a voice that was quite steady, but curiously dull and unnatural.

"I am very glad you have told me of this, Helen. Now that I think of it I am not greatly surprised. You need not worry about me. I am all right."

They had ceased from their walking to and fro, and as they stood thus opposite each other Jean swayed a little. Helen flung both arms around her.

"Oh, darling, what is it? Speak to me. It is only Helen. I love you so, dear."

Jean suffered the embrace, but there was no responsive yielding in the slender, rigid figure. When Helen released her she drew away, and started toward the gate. Helen did not stir, and when Jean had gone a few steps she paused and turned her white, stricken face toward her sister.

"You need not worry about me," she repeated, "I am all right." And then, with a pathetic outstretching of her hands, she added: "It was only my imagination."

Helen sprang forward, but Jean waved her back, and in another moment the shadows of the gloaming hid the flitting figure from Helen's tearful eyes.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE "VORTEX" DEPARTS.