CHAPTER XVI.
"IT WAS ONLY MY IMAGINATION."
"May I come in, Aunt Helen?"
"Certainly, dear." Aunt Helen looked up from the open Bible on herknee, and welcomed Jean with a cheery smile. "Where were you allyesterday? I did not have a glimpse of you."
The girl crossed the room, and dropping down into an easy-chair nearthe open window, gazed listlessly out across the sunlit lawn.
"Oh, I was just here as usual."
Aunt Helen closed her Bible and laid it carefully down on the table.
"Are you tired already of so much pleasuring, Jeanie?"
"I don't see that we have had a great deal of pleasuring lately," herniece replied perversely. "I think Hetherford is the stupidest placein the world, and I am tired of everything."
Aunt Helen was far too wise to remonstrate just then. After a moment'ssilence, she opened a subject which had never failed to awaken aninterest in Jean.
"I had a nice letter from Mrs. Appleton to-day. They seem to bethoroughly enjoying themselves now, and she says Guy is workingsplendidly and expects to accomplish great things on his return."
"Yes," was Jean's inattentive response, as her eyes marked thecircling of a buzzing fly outside the window.
"Miss Stuart is making quite a long visit," ventured Aunt Helenpatiently. "I had thought that she would soon tire of Hetherford."
"I am sure I don't see why she doesn't go away. The whole house isturned upside down to provide her with amusement. It is a perfectbore."
"My dear," Aunt Helen objected, "that is surely not the spirit of truehospitality. We do not speak ill of our guests. _Noblesse oblige._"
"I can't help it," and Jean, now thoroughly aroused, started up fromher chair; "I am not going to pretend to like a person when I don't.She is insufferably patronizing, and I hate her."
Aunt Helen looked up at her niece with real distress in her eyes.
"Why, child," and she held out her hand, "come here. I want to speakto you."
Jean stood irresolute, looking half ashamed, and wholly miserable. Atthat most inopportune moment Nathalie flung open the door.
"Oh, here you are, Jean. I have been looking all over for you. Come ondown and have a game of tennis before dinner. Why, what's the matter?"
Jean hastily averted her face.
"Nothing. I don't care to play tennis."
"Oh, please do, I am just in the humor for it."
"You may be, but I am not," Jean returned curtly.
"What in the world has come over you?" asked Nathalie bluntly. "Inever knew anyone's disposition to become as uncertain and irritableas yours has lately."
"Why don't you let me alone, then? My temper may be growing bad, butyours has never been anything else."
Nathalie shrugged her shoulders, and laughing shortly, went on her waywithout another word.
When the door had closed on her, Jean slipped down on the floor and,burying her face in Aunt Helen's lap, sobbed convulsively.
"I don't know what is the matter with me," she faltered. "I am socross and irritable lately. Everything seems to set my nerves on edge.I never used to feel so."
Aunt Helen passed her thin hand soothingly over the girl's bent head.
"Don't worry about it, dearie. Of course you did not mean to speak so.You are tired and unstrung to-day."
By and by Jean's sobs grew less frequent, then ceased altogether. Shelifted her head, and, resting her arm on Aunt Helen's knee, droppedher chin in her hand, and stared absently before her. All trace ofemotion had left her face, and it now wore an expression of utterweariness and dejection. Her aunt looked thoughtfully down at her. Hadit been either Helen or Nathalie who had thus given way it would nothave troubled her, but proud little Jean was too reserved andself-contained to break down unless she had been very sorely tried.The silence had lasted some few moments when Aunt Helen again spoke.
"In spite of your denial, Jean, I fear that your playtime has lastedtoo long. Discontent never fails to creep in among us when we areidle. You see, dear, I am taking it for granted that it is nothingdeeper than a feeling of discontent which makes you so unhappy. I knowof nothing else unless----" She paused. Jean stirred uneasily underher direct glance. Aunt Helen instantly averted her eyes, and resumed:"I am sorry that my ill health forces me to lead my life so apart fromyou all. I am in ignorance of the many currents and eddies which wouldotherwise be apparent to me, but if ever you need my advice you knowhow gladly I will give it to you, and there are times when an old headis better than a young one."
Still Jean did not speak. Aunt Helen sighed a little sadly:
"Well, my child, I suppose I am mistaken, and that your trouble isonly a surfeit of pleasure."
"I am a great baby, Auntie, but I am glad I came here to you to havemy cry out. You always help me so, and make me ashamed of being soimpatient," and Jean looked lovingly up into the worn face which wasbent above her.
"Thank you, dearie. You must come to me whenever you feel discouragedand unhappy, and remember I always stand ready to give you whatevercomfort or counsel lies within my power. But, Jean," and her voice wasvery grave, "I have learned from my own experience, both of pettyannoyance and of great trials, that there is only one true source ofstrength."
* * * * *
At a late hour that night Lillian Stuart sat before the lowdressing-table in her cozy room, reviewing the events of the pastweek. The face which the mirror reflected was clouded, the eyes somberand full of fire, for the consciousness of defeat was upon her. Asyet, however, no thought of capitulation occurred to her. Farr'sindifference, his evident love for another, but deepened her love forhim, stinging it into a passion that was well-nigh overmastering her.The difficulties in her path lent new zest to the struggle, rousingwithin her heart an insatiable desire for conquest. Possession hadever palled upon her. She had loved Farr, but as an accepted lover hehad wearied her, and her love for him was not strong enough to drownthe voice of worldly wisdom and prudence. To be sure, in those days hewas hardly more than a boy, poor and unknown, whereas to-day he was aman well versed in the world's ways, liberally supplied with theworld's goods, and with the respect and esteem of his fellow-men, yetpreserving the same sweet, magnetic personality which long ago hadmade such a deep impression on her somewhat fickle heart. Theseconsiderations naturally had weight with her, but the secret of herdetermination lay not in these, but in the obstacles to be surmounted,the flattering assurance that her power could not be foiled. Had shebeen quite honest with herself she must have acknowledged that oncethe victory gained the charm would be forever broken. As Farr's wifeshe would be a thoroughly wretched woman. Knowing full well his hatredof an untruth, his contempt for a deception, his passionate anger atan injustice, did she not dream what a death to his soul a union withher would have been? Alas! she herself had revealed to him theshallowness of her nature, the pettiness of her ambitions, thefaithlessness of her heart. The lesson was a bitter one but he hadlearned it well, and, deep in her soul, Lillian Stuart knew that neveragain would he give his love unworthily. She hated Jean Lawrence, yetshe appreciated her purity and gentleness, the fineness of her nature,the almost exalted bent of her mind. But this appreciation did notsoften her heart, nor weaken her determination. Jean had balked her,and Jean must suffer.
The face in the mirror before her grew hard; there were rigid linesabout the mouth, the wonderful eyes gleamed strangely bright.
"I love him. I have always loved him. She shall not have him. It isthe one satisfaction that is left me if all else fails."
Sharp upon these thoughts came a tap upon the door, and Helen Lawrenceentered. A soft wrapper enveloped her slender frame, and her hair hungloose upon her shoulders.
"I wanted to come in for a little chat, Lillian. Do you mind if Ibraid my hair here?"
"Why, no, indeed. I am glad to have you. Sit down."
Helen drew a chair up close to the dressing-table, and seatingherself, began slowly to plait her long soft hair. She
put aside somelight topic which Miss Stuart suggested, and spoke at once of thesubject which lay nearest her heart.
"I am worried about Jean, Lillian. She does not seem like herselflately, and if it were not absurd, I should begin to think she wasunhappy about something."
"Indeed." The response was so brief as to be almost an ejaculation.Helen's words accorded strangely with Miss Stuart's thoughts.
"Yes, and you don't know how unusual it is for Jean to be eitherirritable or moody. She has a very bright, sunny nature, and isparticularly sweet-tempered."
"Perhaps there is something troubling her which you have notperceived."
Helen wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully.
"I am afraid there must be."
Miss Stuart darted a swift glance at her.
"Have you ever thought what it might be?"
Helen's attention was caught by a certain tone in her friend's voice.She raised her eyes questioningly:
"No, dear; I wish I had a clew."
"Suppose I should give you one?"
There was genuine surprise in Helen's face. She answered with atenderness in her voice which gave her companion a pang.
"Why, Lillian, do you know of anything to make Jean unhappy?"
Miss Stuart lifted her head as if to strengthen her purpose, wonderingat the sudden weakness in herself which made the words so hard to say:
"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 Stuartcoolly.
"Don't you think he is in love with her?" blundered Helen, who had notsufficiently recovered from her astonishment to be very wise in Jean'sbehalf.
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 shehad done in thus accepting, without demur, Miss Stuart's statement inregard to Jean. Too late she remembered that it was little short ofdisloyalty to discuss the subject with an outsider; an outsider,moreover, who had never made any pretense of liking her sister. Sheresolved to retrieve herself if possible, and answered not a littleproudly:
"I am sorry I offended you, Lillian. We often differ in our opinionsas 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 theinterruption, "was, in laying too much stress on your verdict inregard to my sister. I am not authorized to contradict your statement,but I think it is more than probable that your perceptions have beenat fault. In regard to Mr. Farr, he has certainly seemed to both likeand admire Jean. Once or twice I have even thought him very muchconcerned about her. Why, at the dance----"
"I imagine, my dear, that your perceptions are equally as faulty as myown. It may interest you to learn that Mr. Farr and I were at one timeengaged; that he loved me madly, and that my breaking of theengagement was a terrible blow to him. It is possible, however, sincein your opinion Mr. Farr has transferred his affections from me toyour sister, that he has already confessed this to her." The tauntingwords were spoken lightly, but Miss Stuart's eyes searched Helen'sface. What she saw there must have satisfied her, for she turned asidewith 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 theirsteady gaze she moved restively. It was not easy to tell a direct lieto 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 anychange in his feeling toward me." She flung back her head and herlustrous eyes held a challenge. "You have seen him with me. What doyou think?"
Her face was alight with power and magnetism; the scarlet lips wereslightly parted, as the breath came hurriedly through them; one firmwhite hand on her breast held together the loose folds of herdressing-gown, which fell about her superb figure in long, gracefullines. 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'sgreat beauty of face and form, and overlooked the deeper beauty of hersister's soul.
As she crept into bed that night she murmured to herself:
"I must warn Jean, gently and lovingly. God grant it may not be toolate."
Her opportunity came the very next evening, for directly dinner wasfinished Nathalie and Miss Stuart started off on a long-planned ridewith Churchill and Andrews. Jean stood on the veranda to watch themmount and ride away. Her eyes followed them until their four figures,swaying slightly with the motion of the horses, were no longersilhouetted against the evening sky, then descended the broad flightof steps, and wandered out into the garden. The sun had already set,but the earth was still wrapped in the mystic light of the purpleafter-glow. Once in the sweet old-fashioned garden Jean paced slowlyup and down the trim paths, bordered by rows of fragrant mignonetteand carnations, and flanked at the corners by tall hollyhocks andslender poppies, and into her sad heart stole something of the peaceand quiet of the tranquil spot.
"It is all so strange and incomprehensible," ran her thoughts, "but Iam 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, Icannot, I will not believe that he deliberately deceived me. If onlyhe were here now, while she is away, I am sure that everything couldbe explained. Oh, he might come--he might be honest with me!"
The garden gate clicked, and she looked up with startled eyes; but itwas only Helen coming down the path to meet her.
"Why did you run away?" her sister asked as she linked her arm inhers.
"I didn't run very fast," smiled Jean. "I sauntered out when the girlsstarted off for their ride. It is so restful here," she added in alower tone.
"That doesn't sound one bit like you, Jean," said Helen slowly. "I amafraid something must be troubling you, if you feel the need of arestful 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 alwaysbe perfectly contented and happy; I do not suppose that I am to be anymore exempt than other people."
Helen's eyes were bent on the ground, and she spoke with somehesitation.
"Of course that is true enough, but there is usually some definitecause for unhappiness. I don't want to be impertinent, Jean, but isthere not some one thing weighing on you at present? Has--" Shepaused, then went on desperately--"has Mr. Farr anything to do withit?"
She felt the violent start that Jean gave, heard the sharp indrawingof her breath, and she did not dare to raise her eyes to her sister'sface for fear of reading there still further confirmation of hersurmises. She had need of all her courage yet to deal the cruel blow,and without pausing for breath, she hurried on. Her words wereconfused, incoherent, but they struck a chill as of death to Jean'stender heart.
"It was only a foolish idea of mine, Jeanie. Of course there is notruth in it--there can't be--there must not be. He--that is, I havejust discovered that he is deeply in love with Lillian. They have beenengaged, 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 endedabruptly.
For an instant not a sound broke the stillness, then Jean faced hersister with strained, wide-open eyes, and
spoke to her in a voice thatwas quite steady, but curiously dull and unnatural.
"I am very glad you have told me of this, Helen. Now that I think ofit I am not greatly surprised. You need not worry about me. I am allright."
They had ceased from their walking to and fro, and as they stood thusopposite each other Jean swayed a little. Helen flung both arms aroundher.
"Oh, darling, what is it? Speak to me. It is only Helen. I love youso, dear."
Jean suffered the embrace, but there was no responsive yielding in theslender, rigid figure. When Helen released her she drew away, andstarted toward the gate. Helen did not stir, and when Jean had gone afew steps she paused and turned her white, stricken face toward hersister.
"You need not worry about me," she repeated, "I am all right." Andthen, with a pathetic outstretching of her hands, she added: "It wasonly my imagination."
Helen sprang forward, but Jean waved her back, and in another momentthe shadows of the gloaming hid the flitting figure from Helen'stearful eyes.