A Woman's Reason. William Dean Howells
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a very good fellow," said Ray quietly. "I met him in Cairo, first. He's very clever; and remarkably well up in Coptic—for a lord."
All the Butlers started, as if to pounce upon Ray. "A lord!" they hoarsely breathed, with the bitter sense of loss natural to girls who might never see a nobleman again.
"Why did you introduce him as Mister?" demanded Marian, in accents expressive of the common anguish; and somehow the revelation of her victim's quality seemed to Helen to heighten the folly and cruelty of her behavior; it seemed to elevate it into a question of international interest.
"I said Lord Rainford," retorted Ray.
"You whispered it!" cried Marian bitterly.
"Well, he won't mind your calling him Mr. Rainford. I can explain," said Ray. "Don't change, now," he added mischievously.
"As if we should!" indignantly retorted Marian. "And let him know that we'd been talking about him! No, he shall remain Mister to the end of the chapter with us. Are you going to bring him to the house?"
"I'm going to Salem with him as soon as I put you ashore. I'd have asked you to let me bring him to lunch if I'd supposed he was on the boat. When I left him at Manchester this morning, he talked of going to Boston by the cars."
"I think he's hideous," said Marian, for all comment on the explanation.
"Not pretty, but precious," returned Ray tranquilly. "He's a good fellow, but he knows he isn't good-looking. He's rather sensitive about it, and it makes him nervous and awkward with ladies; but he's a very sensible fellow among men," Ray concluded.
There was a little unpleasant pause, and then Ray and Marian began talking eagerly to Helen, as if they felt a little ashamed, and a good deal sorry for her, and were anxious to get her to do or say something that would bring back their good opinion of her.
They dropped anchor in a sheet of sunset red off Captain Butler's place, and Ray pulled them ashore in his small boat. Some of them tried to sing the barcarole he had played, but the girlish voices thrilled sadly over the glassy tide, which was softly ebbing, and leaving more and more bare the drowned-looking boulders, heavily tressed with the dripping golden brown seaweed.
Marian sat in the bow of the boat, and as she rose and stood there, holding out one hand to Ray to be helped ashore, and gathering her skirts with the other, she glanced towards the house: "Why, who is there with mamma on the verandah? Why, it can't be papa!"
Helen looked round over her shoulder where she sat, and now they all looked, Ray turning his head and mechanically clasping Marian's hand.
Captain Butler was walking up and down before his wife, who sat listening to what he was saying. He was talking very loud and very fast, with a sort of passionate vehemence; his tones reached them, but they could not make out his words. He gesticulated as if describing some scene, and then suddenly stopped, and threw back his head, and seemed to be laughing.
"What can amuse Captain Butler so much?" asked Helen, with a smile. At the same time she saw him draw out his handkerchief and hide his face in it, and sit down with his face still hidden. The pantomime which they could see with such distinctness, and of which they yet remained so ignorant, somehow began to overawe them. Ray quickly helped them from the boat. "I am going up with you," he said, and with a glance at Marian, "Miss Harkness," he added, "won't you take my arm over these rocks?"
Helen clung heavily to him as she tottered up the path. "I wonder what has brought Captain Butler tonight," she said tremulously. "He wasn't to be here till Saturday."
"I fancy he's persuaded your father to come with him," answered Ray. "Look out for that stone, Miss Harkness."
"Oh, I hope papa isn't worse again," said Helen, stumbling over it. She hurt herself, and was glad of the pain that let her give their way to the tears that came into her eyes.
"No; I should think he was more likely to be better," said Ray, refusing to see her trouble, and really lifting her along. The others had fallen behind a little, and these two had now reached the gravel drive up to the piazza steps alone.
They saw a quick parley between the Captain and Mrs. Butler, and he stepped in-doors through one of the long windows, while she came forward to the rail, and called out to Marian, " Your father wants all of you to go to the other door, Marian."
"Why, mamma—" began Marian.
"Go, go!" cried her mother. "Don't ask!— Edward, bring Helen here!"
"Yes, it's some little surprise," said Ray, beginning to laugh. "Do you like surprises, Miss Harkness?"
"I don't believe I do," she answered, trying to laugh too.
Mrs. Butler came forward and took her from Kay, motioning or rather looking him aside, as she clasped the girl tight in her arms. At this moment she saw' Captain Butler glance stealthily at them from within the room; his face was contorted and wet with tears. "What—what is it, Mrs. Butler?" she gasped, weakly pulling back a little from her close embrace, and facing her.
There was an instant in which the elder woman dwelt upon her with all of compassion and imploring in her eyes. Then she said, "Death, Helen. Your father is dead!"
Helen's strength came back. As if many days had passed since she saw him, "Today?" she asked, still holding her hand against Mrs. Butler's breast, where she had pressed it.
"At two o'clock."
Helen softly loosed herself from Mrs. Butler's arms, and sat down in the chair near which they stood, and looked out upon the grounds sloping to the water, the black rocks by the shore; the huger rocks that showed their backs like sleeping sea-beasts out of the smooth water; the yacht darkening against the east; far beyond the rim of the sea, a light just twinkling up in the invisible tower at the horizon's verge. A thick darkness seemed to come down out of the sky overall, but Helen would not let it close upon her. She fought the swoon away, and looked up at the pitying, suffering face above her.
"I am glad you told me at once, Mrs. Butler. Thank you," she said, and sank back in her chair, while the other fell on her knees beside her, and gathered her to her heart again, and wept over her.
"O my poor, poor child! It's the one certain thing in all the world. It will be known, and it will be seen. What wouldn't I have given to keep it from you forever, Helen? You and my Marian were babies together. I used to know your mother. You are like a daughter to me." Helen passively submitted to the caresses, to the kisses, dropped with tears upon her pale cheeks, but she did not say anything, or try to reply. "But it was not to be kept," Mrs. Butler went on. "It could not be hidden, and it seemed the mercifullest and best way not to try to keep it from you in foolish self-pity for a moment, more or less."
"O yes, yes," said Helen, like another person hearing of her own case. "It was best," and she found herself toying with the strings of her hat, curling them round her finger, and running them out in a long roll.
"It doesn't kill, my dear. It brings its own cure with it. It 'a sorrow, but it isn't trouble! It passes over us like a black wave, but it doesn't destroy us. You don't realize it yet, Helen, my poor girl, but even when you do, you will bear it. Put your head down on my shoulder, dear, and I will tell you. It was in his office, where he had spent so many years at the work which had given him his honored name and place in the world. My husband was there with him. They were turning over some books together. He saw your father put his hand over his heart, and then your father sank down in his armchair, and gave a little sigh, and—that was all."
Mrs. Butler broke into a fresh sobbing on the girl's neck, but Helen remained silent and still, letting herself be clutched tight to that loving breast. "There was no pain, Helen, there was no suffering. It was a falling into rest . But before he rested— before he drew that last little sigh, my dear—he spoke one word. Do you know what it was, Helen?" She felt the girl tremble, and, as it were, lapse in her arms. "It was just your name : it was, 'Helen.' You were the last thing in his thoughts upon earth —the first in heaven."
Helen broke into a long, low wail. She rose from where