If Helen surprised Gard it was not with change, but with that same vividness of her personality; the tone of her voice, as definite as a musical theme; the swift step; the nameless something about her, impetuous, challenging, demanding, that said, "This is Helen—not a resemblance or recollection merely, but one who cannot be made another." He was surprised by the flood of his recollections of her and by the fact that, tested by the present, they were all found to be true.
"Lady Rachel says there are scallops. It's glorious of you to come. We know what you did in the spring, and we have a piano, but you ought to have an organ to tell about it, it's so big. Is it fun to be a hero?"
"That's an odd idea. I thought you might tell me who I am, or whether I'm something at all; but I don't recognize that. Can't you do any better?"
They followed Mavering and Rachel, and came to the white door, that stood open for them. Helen looked up suddenly, but did not smile, only said:
"You've changed, haven't you?"
Within he noticed Mrs. Mavering's touch everywhere. Wherever she was, things about her seemed to alter their practical bearing and take on a difference. A plain table became luxurious by virtue of something thrown across it. A tall jar was placed on the painted mantel-piece, and the mantel-piece itself became reminiscent.
After supper, where the scallops did not fail, the four gathered before the grate. A fire crackled, and the slender jar stood above, in reminder of realms where form and color were the only deities. Gard thought Mrs. Mavering had changed. Helen's pallor and thinness did not touch her imperative identity. Mrs. Mavering had changed less in looks than in tone. There was less languor and withdrawal. As to the relations between her and Jack, they did not seem to be uncomfortable at present, and were no business of his.
"Helen tells me I'm changed," he said. "Do you remember the night when I came to see you instead of playing in Saint Mary's, and Helen played she was a valiant knight and you were a lady hidden in a tower, and I offered to be the ogre who was said to have a tower of his own somewhere to be proud in? It was nearly two years ago. I think the knight is still charging, and wanting to make wrong right by sticking a lance into it. But the lady has come out of her tower and gone questing with the knight, and doesn't seem quite the same. And the ogre has found the 'somewhere' of his tower even more vague than it was then, or, if he has found it, it seems to be empty. Nothing lives there but winds and ghosts now."
"What have you been doing?" asked Helen. "We hear stories of other people, but we haven't any to tell. But I don't understand what you mean."
"What I've been doing hasn't much to do with it. But I'll tell about that, if you like. You'd better have Mavering's first."