“I understand,” he answered, quietly.
She looked at him long, and then, suddenly, her hand to her heart, gave a little, pitying, tender cry and moved toward him. At this he raised his head and smiled sadly. “No; don't you mind,” he said. “It's all right. I was such a cad the other time I needed to be told; I was so entirely silly about it, I couldn't face the others to tell them good-night, and I left you out there to go in to them alone. I didn't realize, for my manners were all gone. I'd lived in a kind of stupor, I think, for a long time; then being with you was like a dream, and the sudden waking was too much for me. I've been ashamed often, since, in thinking of it—and I was well punished for not taking you in. I thought only of myself, and I behaved like a whining, unbalanced boy. But I had whined from the moment I met you, because I was sickly with egoism and loneliness and self-pity. I'm keeping you from the dancing. Won't you let me take you back to the house?”
A commanding and querulous contralto voice was heard behind them, and a dim, majestic figure appeared under the Japanese lantern.
“Helen?”
The girl turned quickly. “Yes, mamma.”
“May I ask you to return to the club-house for supper with me? Your father has been very much worried about you. We have all been looking for you.”
“Mamma, this is Mr. Harkless.”
“How do you do?” The lady murmured this much so far under her breath that the words might have been mistaken for anything else—most plausibly, perhaps, for, “Who cares if it is?”—nor further did she acknowledge John's profound inclination. Frigidity and complaint of ill-usage made a glamour in every fold of her expensive garments; she was large and troubled and severe. A second figure emerged from behind her and bowed with the suave dignity that belonged to Brainard Macauley. “Mr. Macauley has asked to sit at our table,” Mrs. Sherwood said to Helen. “May I beg you to come at once? Your father is holding places for us.”
“Certainly,” she answered. “I will follow you with Mr. Harkless.”
“I think Mr. Harkless will excuse you,” said the elder lady. “He has an engagement. Mr. Meredith has been looking everywhere for him to take Miss Hinsdale out to supper.”