“I have no one left there, Mr. Morton, who would claim me. And even if restitution were offered and papa’s land should be returned to me—what could I do there? No, Roumelia and I have parted forever, I fear. This country, your country, Mr. Morton, has opened to me a new vista in life, even if its prospects are not quite clear. But to tell the truth, I have not thought much of what is to come, and I have formed no plans for the future.”
But John had his plans, however, but these lay hidden in his breast, for the time had not yet come for him to reveal them. He had his road cut out before him.
“I am delighted to hear that our beautiful country finds an admirer in you. It well deserves it. Do you know, your remarks recall a curious prophecy pronounced by your father in one of our frequent conversations. He pointed out that history proves the constant trend of progress from the East to the West, and predicted that the most powerful commonwealths, the most enlightened people will in future dwell in the West. His words recurred to me the other night while thinking over what a friend of mine, a prominent professor of the city, had said to me on the subject of telepathy. I was wishing I could speak to you by means of this mysterious power, wishing I could bring you nearer to me or know where I could find you. And, behold, the very next day I met you! It must have been this mysterious force of the ‘westward trend’ that brought you here.”
A flush suffused Helène’s face. “Then you did sometimes think of me?” she asked shyly. “I see now that it was wrong in me not to write. But, oh, I was so ignorant of life—will you not forgive me? Happy as I was with Margaret, the thought of my negligence was never out of my mind—and—I corrected my error just as soon as I could!”
“My dear Miss Helène, my dear child—all is well that ends well!” He glanced about him; for he had a sudden feeling that eyes were hidden in the bushes. But all breathed rest and solitude, not a sound disturbed the still air. “Miss Helène, we have still some time before us. Mother and Ruth are at church. Let us walk up to the brow of the hill, where you can get a wider view of the river. It is but a few rods from there to the house, and we can time our arrival by observing my mother’s carriage drive up!”
Helène was chatting vivaciously now about her interesting work, and was expressing her admiration for the customs of this, her country by adoption. She permitted Morton the full enjoyment of her confidences. The path led to a low marble building patterned after a Grecian temple, which occupied the summit of the gentle hill.
“There is our goal, Miss Helène. Please do not turn round until you are on the porch; to obtain the full effect of the beauty of the view, it should come by surprise!” She smiled up to him happily and, obedient to his request, sat down on a wicker-bench he drew towards her. The next moment a glad cry of wonderment escaped her.
There before her gaze spread the broad river bordered by luxurious trees, the waves of which shimmered in the brilliant light of the sun now high above them, and beyond the glorious waters the olive smoothness of the hills on the opposite bank. The foreground, a well-kept park, lost itself into neighboring slopes equally parklike. On the waters, the one thing in motion, an ungainly barge towed by a powerful tug; and over all the quiet of leisure, the restfulness of solitude.
“Oh, Mr. Morton,” she exclaimed, “I am so grateful to you for bringing me here. It is glorious! And to think that we are but a few miles from the gigantic city and its teaming millions! Wonderful! I see now why your people love this place. Will you point out your house to me?”
“The house is hidden beyond that slight swell to your left. There, right under us, is the driveway. Shall we sit here awhile? It is so quiet and restful—almost like in a church, don’t you think?” He found a seat on one of the steps of the porch.