As he spoke the last words he took Helène’s hand, his eager face flushed with his emotions. She gently drew it away, and looking up piteously at the young man she mustered just enough strength to say sadly: “Mr. Van Dusen—I don’t know what to say, and if I did I wouldn’t know how to say it. You are very kind. I—I have never thought of any man as you wish me to think of you. We ought not to have come here; we should both of us then have been saved this great embarrassment. Please, remember, that I have no one but Miss Fisher—that I am her only friend. Shall we return to the house?”
“Miss Barton, Helen dear, will you not give me some encouragement, some hope——”
“Oh, Mr. Van Dusen—what can I say? Really, I must not listen to you any longer. Pray, permit me!”
Her heart in a riotous beating, her temples throbbing and her face filled with indignation, Helène rose and ran toward the orchard. And as she ran she kept thinking: he had no right to speak to her thus: Margy would have to tell him that he must not visit them again. Her feet became entangled in the deep grass and treacherous brambles, and she was compelled to walk and pick her way.
Van Dusen, who had followed her at a quick pace, hurt and offended at he knew not what, was the first to break the awkward silence following on the precipitate flight.
“Don’t be angry with me, Miss Barton. I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I can see I am distasteful to you; but you need have no fear.” He paused for breath. Then seeing that she was finding it difficult to get over the brambles, he added in an unconscious non sequitur: “Pardon me, if you don’t keep to the path you will tear your shoes and skirt. You are getting into a patch of low bush blackberries; they are worse than barbed wire.”
Helène stopped short, her sense of humor overcoming her. After all the young man had not done anything very grievous! Of course, it was absurd, but he meant well and she had been wrong to be indignant with him.
She turned to Van Dusen, and the smile which met him was like a ray of sunshine breaking through threatening clouds. “Mr. Van Dusen—I am sorry. It was rude of me to run away. I was taken unawares. Please pardon me. You may show me the path. I can’t afford to ruin my shoes and spoil my vacation. But you must promise me not to refer to the subject again. Will you promise, Mr. Van Dusen?”
“Miss Barton, I may not be a genius but nobody can say I don’t know when I am not wanted. I apologize,” he added in a more earnest and subdued voice, “and let us be friends. I guess I am not good enough for you!”
“No, Mr. Van Dusen, you are unjust to yourself. You are a gentleman and you have been very kind to me. But—oh, well, I suppose I am foolish. Let us go back to Miss Fisher.”