“Poor child, you have been worrying all these months without any real cause! You should have had full confidence in your father’s wisdom and in me. Now remember what you promised me last evening? To-day is still summer, this is to be yours and Ruth’s day. Brush away the wrinkles from your brow and let us all be happy. See, the sun is shining again, bright and warm. The country will look the better for the rain. Even the elements are on their best behavior in your honor, Miss Helène, and you should reciprocate!”
His eyes met her searching glance unwaveringly. She saw no guile in them and her heart found its happiness in surrendering to his authority.
Helène and Morton were the sole occupants of the lumbering “carry-all” that deposited them at the open park gate. The gravel paths had dried, but the lawns still glistened with myriads of dazzling rain-born gems. The foliage of bush and tree shone with a renewed gloss and the sweet scent of new-mown hay belied the spring-morn redolence of the balmy air which was filled with faint whispers of bird-song.
Helène breathed the gracious air and with care-free heart tripped joyously by the side of her companion, exclaiming her delight in the beauty of her surroundings. Then both grew silent. The restfulness of the garden, the peace of the Sabbath and the hush of memories were upon them.
The path rose gradually. The sauntering pair advanced slowly until, emerging from a group of thick shrubbery, they caught the first glimpse of the majestic river glistening in the broad sunlight. The charming vista drew renewed admiration from Helène and brought the suggestion from her companion that she should rest upon a convenient stone seat in the deep shade nearby.
“We have many things to talk about, Miss Helène, and, I fear, once my mother meets you, I shall find very little further opportunity. You have given me an outline of your life during the past ten months, and you have told me you are now quite happy. Will you not tell me of your ambitions, of your work and, perhaps, of your plans? This is a cozy spot, almost made for friendly confidences.”
Helène’s eyes rose questioningly to his; but the calm face beamed kindly and invitingly on her.
“I am, indeed, very happy, Mr. Morton. I have not heard from either Weimar or Roumelia, so that I am entirely out of touch with my old life. What has been the fate of my country and my Princess? Perhaps you can enlighten me?”
She paused questioningly. Was she trying to gain time? But surely, it was Morton’s turn to speak.
“The last information I received from abroad,” replied Morton, “said that the Princess Marie-Louise was still at Weimar. Some ten days ago I had a letter from Mr. Rosen, the first news from Roumelia since we left it. Conditions there have at last begun to improve somewhat; life has become bearable, he writes. Miss Rachel is well. About the political state of the country, however, he is silent. From Berlin come rumors that the Royalist party is growing stronger every day and that an important move may be expected shortly. Would you wish to return to your own country, Miss Helène?”