“Good-bye,” she said quietly as she took his hand in her friendly clasp.
She watched him get into the carriage and take the reins from the waiting groom, and noticed how well he sat his seat. Van Dusen turned and raised his hat in a parting farewell to her smiling nods. There was not a trace to be seen of either disappointment or chagrin in his laughing eyes, as he drove up the road and was lost in the wooded avenue. Margaret turned and walked pensively into the house.
Labor Day had become a memory; Margaret was now fully recovered, and both girls were back at their duties. Their well-regulated life, which had been so rudely interrupted by the accident, resumed its even course. The new actors which, in consequence of that distressing event, had come into it, in no way disturbed the even tenor of their ways.
Helène met the spurned wooer, after not a few qualms of conscience, with quiet friendliness. Van Dusen, on his part, had swallowed his disappointment and became a devoted friend, using the privileges of an elder brother, which had been extended to him. Helène had but hinted to Margaret at what had occurred between her and Van Dusen, and Margaret had refrained from inquiring too curiously. It was best to leave well alone, she thought.
Flowers still came to the house in Gramercy Park; but their destination was the reverse of what it had been before. Then it had been Helène who was the recipient of the roses and giant asters and Margaret of the lesser flowers. Now it was to Margaret that the more gorgeous plants were addressed, and to Helène were relegated modest little bouquets of lilies and pansies (pansies? Did he mean—heartsease?) and cornflowers.
The arrival of the flowers for Margaret usually presaged an evening’s outing, and Helène soon came to understand that the bouquets which came for her were but the expressions of courtesy and brotherly attention. She did not fail to tease Van Dusen on the change, in her more audacious moods, to his smiling content.
With renewed health Margaret’s cheeks filled out and regained their old roundness and color. Indeed, her illness had improved her appearance. She began to add to nature’s gifts the productions of the lore of the “Modiste” and blossomed into as charming a woman as ever attracted the eyes of the dwellers of the Park.
And now, with the waning of the summer, the first signs of the new “season” began to appear on the Avenue. The World of Fashion was returning to its urban fields of activity; the shops once more became busy hives of jostling women. The evenings scintillated and sparkled with brilliant lights and more brilliant costumes. The glamor of the city drew people from the country, and once again the busy stir of business and pleasure filled the blue-covered cañons of New York.
As for Margaret and Helène, work kept them from ennui. It was a lesson to Helène, and she entered on the work of the season with all her heart.