Van Dusen, silent and depressed, led the way back along the path over the hard-baked field, through the orchard and into the road. Helène spoke not another word all the way.
Whether she intended it or not her silence convinced Van Dusen that he need look for no further hope from her. It was not coquetry, but a definite and permanent refusal. What an ass he had been not to see that she never cared for him! But that he, a Van Dusen, should have been turned down by a snip of a milliner! No, no, he must not think that. He was a cad to call her names even in thought. Ah, she was a beautiful girl—as good as they made them—but, she had not been made for him, worse luck! Of course, there must be another fellow. But, by George, couldn’t she look proud! And what a temper she could show! Ah, but she looked more beautiful angry than smiling. Oh, well, if she didn’t care to talk he wouldn’t make her. There was the gate, and there was Miss Fisher, all in white, smiling and wholesome. After all, there was no girl like an American girl. These foreigners——
“Hello, people, where have you two been?” came Margaret’s cheery greeting to the silent pair emerging from the cover of the trees; “exploring the landscape, Helen?”
“How do you do, Miss Fisher!” Van Dusen welcomed the break in the oppressive silence he had endured. “You look very well. I need not ask if the country is doing you good! Mother sent me with a message to you, but as I learned you were resting I proposed to Miss Barton to visit the ‘Kittanah Rock’—and here we are.”
“How are you, Mr. Van Dusen. Come in and sit down in the shade. This is the only cool spot I know around here. Were you interested in the Indian Rock, Helen? You didn’t know we could boast of ancient history here, did you?”
They sat on the camp chairs in the grass under the spreading maples, chatting in desultory fashion. Helène, however, soon retired to her room, offering as an excuse her dishevelled condition after the walk.
As he sat facing the comely Margaret with her shrewd eyes, Van Dusen realized that it would be useless for him to make a secret of what had happened in the orchard. He saw that she already more than guessed. Moreover, his disappointment at the rebuff made him feel a deep desire to unburden himself; perhaps, also, to obtain a little sympathy. He sought for an opportunity, and it came when Helène left them together. But it was Margaret who seized it first.
“What have you been saying to Helen, Mr. Van Dusen? She seems unusually quiet, and she kept her eyes away from you. I have elected myself Helen’s guardian, you know, and her happiness is dear to me. What’s been the trouble?”
“Miss Fisher,” the young man fidgeted and spoke nervously. “I know you will be angry with me. I’ve made an arrant fool of myself. I proposed to Miss Barton, and was promptly refused. I hardly know how I came to do it, but, I suppose I couldn’t help it.”
Margaret’s face paled; she closed her eyes and said not a word.