CHAPTER XXV
THE AWAKENING
"What did I do? Did I—did they—oh, tell me?"
Helka was leaning over Cora as the girl regained consciousness. It was night, and the room was quite dark.
"You did nothing, dear, but faint. That was not your fault. Take another sip of this milk. Do you feel better?"
"Yes, but I was so afraid that I screamed, and that they—those dreadful men would punish you."
"Not afraid for yourself?"
"Not if I could not help it. But you had nothing to do with it. Oh,
Helka, I will die if I am not soon set free! I can't stand it."
She burst into hysterical tears. Cora Kimball was losing strength, and with it her courage was failing.
"How could you escape?"
The words came slowly. Helka was thinking deeply.
"Could we get Lena to take a note to David? He would surely rescue us."
"But then—they might pour out vengeance upon him. I could not take the risk of anything happening to David."
"You are too timid, Helka. Such straits as we are in demand risks."
"We might poison those horrible, savage dogs. Lena might do that without her own knowledge. I could fix something. Do you know anything about poisons?"
"Not much," replied Cora, "but I suppose if we got anything sure to be poison it would do." Hope sprang into her heart. "How did you get me indoors?"
"They carried you. The air was too strong for you after such close confinement."
"No, it was that automobile on the road. The sight of it simply overpowered me. Oh, how I wanted to call to those in it!"
"Poor girl! Since you came I, too, have wanted to be free, and I am not as much afraid as I used to be."
"We are in America, and have no right to fear." Cora thought at the same time that probably her own fearlessness accounted for her present plight.
"If we could poison the dogs, and then slide down from one of these windows in the dark, perhaps we could get away," said Helka. "But what would happen when we found ourselves out in the dark woods? If they found us——"
"There must be no 'if.' They must not find us. I am afraid of nothing but of this imprisonment."
"Well, we will see. To-morrow I will get Lena to go to town for me, and perhaps we may be able to arrange something."
"And you will not write to your David?"
"Don't you think that dangerous?"
"The very safest thing, for he is a man, and how could they injure him?"
"And so handsome and so strong! He is like some grand old prince—his hair is like corn-silk and his eyes are like the blue sky," and Helka, as she reclined, with her chin in her hands, upon her couch, almost forgot that Cora was with her.
"Then you will write to-morrow? Tell him to come to the end of the path at the west road by ten to-morrow night, and if we are not there we will leave a note so that he will see it."
"How quickly you plan! What about the dogs?"
"Lena will fetch the stuff to-morrow morning, and they will be dead by night. Then we will tie a rope to the window-sill or some strong place, and we will slip down. Oh, Helka, I will go down first, and go out first, and if they do not miss me, they will not miss you. It will be safe to follow me as quickly as you see I am off!"
Cora threw her arms about the gypsy queen. As she spoke it seemed as if they were already free!
"And when we meet David! Oh, my dear Cora, now you have made me—mad! Now I, too, will risk life to get away! I must go out into your world—David's world!"
"Then we must both sleep, and be strong. Tomorrow we will be very good to every one. I will be well, and if I cannot eat I will pretend to. Lately I have almost choked on my food." Cora sipped the milk and then fell back exhausted.
"I nearly forgot your illness, I became so excited with our plans. Do you know when you fainted they were all very much frightened? They would not like to have you die!"
"But they might easily bury me. I should think that would be safer."
"No, it is very hard to bury one. Somehow they find the dead more difficult to hide than they do the living. I guess the good spirits take care of the dead."
"And we must take care of ourselves! Well, that may be. At any rate,
I am glad I did not die. Oh, Helka, if you only could know my brother
Jack. He is the noblest boy! And our girls! You know, we are called
the motor girls, don't you?"
"And you all own automobiles! I have never been in an automobile in my life," sighed Helka.
"But you are going to ride in mine—in the Whirlwind! Doesn't that name suit you? It sounds so like your gypsy names. Why did you say they call you Helka?"
"Well, I wanted something Polish. Holka means girl, so I changed it a little. My father called me his Holka."
"How do you know that?"
"From my mother's old letters. She told me as much as she wanted me to know. She said I was not all a gypsy, but I might choose my life when I grew up. She left me with a very kind gypsy nurse, but when she died—they took me to that horrible Mother Hull."
"What a pity your mother should have trusted them. Well, Helka, when we find David, he will find your father. What was his name?"
"Some day I will show you the letter, then you will know all my strange history. My music I inherited. My father was a fine musician."
The winds of the White Mountains sang a song of tired summer. The leaves brushed the windows, and the two girls fell to dreaming.
Cora thought of Jack, of Ed and of Walter; then of the dear, darling girls! Oh, what would she not give for one moment with them?
Helka dreamed of David—of the handsome boy who had risked his life to get a note to her; then of how he followed her to America, and how he had, ever since, sent her those letters!
Yes, she must risk all for freedom!