The Awakening of Helena Richie Part 43

Lloyd Pryor read as far as that, and set his teeth. "Lloyd, my friend," he said aloud, "it appears you have got to pay the piper."

Swearing quietly to himself he tore the letter into many small pieces, and threw them into the fire. "Well," he said grimly, "I have never repudiated yet, but I propose to claim my ninety days,--if I can't squeeze out of it before that!" He sat a long time in his inner office, thinking the thing over: if it had to be, if the piper was inexorable, if he could not squeeze out, how should he safeguard Alice? Of course, a girl of nineteen is bound to resent her father's second marriage; her annoyance and little tempers Lloyd Pryor could put up with, if only she need never know the truth. But how should the truth be covered? They could all three go to Europe for a year. If there was going to be any gossip--and really the chance of gossip was rather remote; very few people had known anything about Frederick Richie or his affairs, and Helena had absolutely no relatives,--but if they went to Europe for a year, any nine days' wonder would have subsided before they got back. As for the offensiveness of presenting Helena to his daughter as a stepmother, Pryor winced, but admitted with a cold impartiality, that she was not intrinsically objectionable. It was only the idea which was unpleasant. In fact, if things were not as they were, she would make an admirable stepmother-- "and she is good-looking still," he thought, with an effort to console himself, But, of course, if he could squeeze out of it--And so his answer to Helena's letter was a telegram to say he was coming to Old Chester.

William King, driving down the hill in the October dusk, had a glimpse of him as the stage pulled up at the gate of the Stuffed Animal House, and the doctor's face grew dully red. He had not seen Helena since that black, illuminating night; he had not seen Dr, Lavendar; he had scarcely seen his own wife. He devoted himself to his patients, who, it appeared, lived back among the hills. At any rate, he was away from home from morning until night. William had many things to face in those long drives out into the country, but the mean self- consciousness that he had been fooled was not among them. A larger matter than mortification held him in its solemn grip. On his way home, in the chill October twilights, he usually stopped at Mr.

Benjamin Wright's. But he never drew rein at the green gate in the hedge; as he was pa.s.sing it the night that Pryor arrived, he had to turn aside to let the stage draw up. A man clambered out, and in the dull flash of the stage lanterns, William saw his face.

"Lloyd?" some one said, in a low voice; it was Mrs. Richie, waiting for him inside the gate. William King's face quivered in the darkness.

"That you, Nelly?" Mr. Pryor said;--"no, no; I'll carry my own bag, thank you. Did a hamper come down on the morning stage? Good! We'll have something to eat. I hope you haven't got a sick cook this time.

Well, how are you?"

He kissed her, and put his arm around her; then withdrew it, reminding himself not to be a fool. Yet she was alluring! If only she would be sensible, there was no reason why things should not be as pleasant as ever. If she obliged him to pay the piper, Lloyd Pryor was coldly aware that things would never be pleasant again.

"So many dreadful things have happened!" she burst out; but checked herself and asked about his journey; "and--and Alice?"

"Oh, pleasant enough, rather chilly. She's well, thank you." And then they were at the door, and in the bustle of coming in, and taking off his coat, and saying "Hullo, David! Where's your sling?" disagreeable topics were postponed. But in the short twilight before the parlor fire, and at the supper-table, the easy commonplaces of conversation tingled with the consciousness of the inevitable reappearance of those same topics. Once, at the table, he looked at her with a frown.

"What's the matter, Nelly? You look old! Have you been sick?"

"Things have happened," she said with an effort; "I've been worried."

"What things?" he said; but before she could reply, Sarah came in with hot waffles, and the subject was dropped.

"You need more cinnamon with this sugar," Mr. Pryor said with annoyance. And Helena, flushing with anxiety, told the woman to add some cinnamon at once. "Oh, never mind now," he said.--"But you ought to look out for things like that," he added when Sarah had left the room. And Helena said quickly, that she would; she was so sorry!

"Dr. Lavendar," David announced, "he won't let you say you don't like things. He says it ain't polite. But I don't like--"

"Dry up! dry up!" Mr. Pryor said irritably; "Helena, this young man talks too much."

Helena whispered to David to be quiet. She had already arranged with him that he was not to come into the parlor after supper, which was an agreeable surprise to him; "For, you know, I don't like your brother,"

he said, "nor neither does Danny." Helena was too absorbed to remonstrate; she did, however, remember to tell Mr. Pryor that David had asked if she was coming up to hear him say his prayers.

"I told him I couldn't to-night; and what do you suppose he said? He said, 'Does G.o.d like ladies better than gentlemen? I do.'"

It made him laugh, as she had hoped it would. "I fancy that is a reflection upon me," he said. "The young man has never liked me." And when he had clipped off the end of his cigar and struck a match under the mantelpiece, he added, "So you hear him say his prayers? I didn't know you were so religiously inclined."

"I'm not religiously inclined; but, of course, one has to teach a child to say his prayers."

"Oh, I don't object to religion," Mr. Pryor a.s.sured her; "in fact, I like it--"

"In other people?" she interrupted gayly.

"Well, yes; in other people. At any rate in your charming s.e.x. Alice is very religious. And I like it very much. In fact, I have a good deal of feeling about it. I wouldn't do anything to--to shock her, you know. I really am perfectly sincere about that, Helena."

He was sincere; he looked at her with an anxiety that for once was quite simple.

"That's why I wrote you as I did about the future. I am greatly embarra.s.sed about Alice."

She caught her breath at the suddenness of his reference, but she knew him well enough not to be much surprised. If a disagreeable topic was to be discussed, the sooner it was taken up and disposed of, the better. That was Lloyd's way.

"Of course," he went on, "if Alice knew of our--ah, acquaintance, it would shock her. It would shock her very much." He paused. "Alice's great charm is her absolute innocence," he added thoughtfully.

That comment was like a blow in the face. Helena caught her breath with the shock of it. But she could not stop to a.n.a.lyze its peculiar terror. "Alice needn't know," she began--but he made an impatient gesture.

"If we married, it would certainly come out."

He was standing with his back to the fire, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cigar; he blew three smoke rings, and smiled. "Will you let me off, Nelly?"

"I know you don't love me," she broke out pa.s.sionately--

"Oh, now, Helena, not a scene, please! My dear, I love you as much as ever. You are a charming woman, and I greatly value your friendship.

But I can love you just as much, not to say more, if you are here in your own house in Old Chester, instead of being in my house in Philadelphia. Why, it would be like sitting on a volcano!"

"I cannot stay in Old Chester any longer," she said; "dreadful things have happened, and--"

"What things? You said that before. Do explain these mysterious allusions."

"Mr., Wright's son," she began--and then her voice broke. But she told him as well as she could.

Mr. Pryor gave a frowning whistle. "Shocking! Poor Nelly!"

"You see, I must go away," she said, wringing her hands; "I can't bear it!"

"But, my dear," he protested, "it wasn't your fault. You were not to blame because a rash boy--" Then a thought struck him, "but how the devil did he discover--?"

When Helena explained that she supposed old Mr. Wright had told his grandson, Pryor's anger broke out: "He knew? How did _he_ find out?"

Helena shook her head; she had never understood that, she said.

Lloyd's anger always confused her, and when he demanded furiously why she had not told him about the old fool--"he'll blazon the whole thing!"--she protested, quivering, that Mr. Wright would not do that.

"I meant to tell you, but I--I forgot it. And anyway, I knew he wouldn't; he said he wouldn't; besides, he had a stroke when he heard about Sam, and he hasn't spoken since. And Dr. King--" she winced-- "Dr. King says it's the beginning of the end."

"Thank G.o.d!" Lloyd said profoundly relieved. He stood frowning for a minute, then shrugged his shoulders, "Well, of course, that settles it; you can't stay here; there's no question about that. But there's a very pleasant little town, on the other side of Mercer, and--"

"It isn't just the going away," she broke in; "it's being different from people. I never thought about it before; I never really minded.

But now, I can't help seeing that if you are--different, I mean just to please yourself, you know, it--it hurts other people, somehow. Oh, I can't explain," she said, incoherently, "and I don't want to trouble you, or talk about right and wrong, and religion, and--that sort of thing--"

"No; please don't," he said, dryly.

"But you promised--you promised!"

"I promised," he said, "and I have a prejudice in favor of keeping my word. Religion, as you call it, has nothing to do with it. I will marry you; I told you so when I wrote to you. But I felt that if I put the matter before you, and told you how difficult the situation was, and appealed to your generosity, for Alice's sake--"

"I appeal to _your_ generosity!--for the sake of other people. It isn't only Alice who would be shocked, if it was found out. Lloyd, I don't insist on living with you. Keep the marriage a secret, if you want to; only, I must, I must be married!" She got up and came and stood beside him, laying her hands on his arm, and lifting her trembling face to his; he frowned, and shrugged her hands away.

"Go and sit down, Nelly. Don't get excited. I told you that I had a prejudice in favor of keeping my word."

She drew back and sat down on the sofa, cowering a little in the corner. "Do you suppose I have no pride?" she breathed. "Do you suppose it is easy for me to--_urge?_" He saw her fingers tremble as, with elaborate self-control, she pleated the crimson silk of her skirt in little folds across her knee. For a moment they were both silent.