"Stay here?" Helena repeated automatically.
For one brief moment the barred gates had swung open and she had gained a glimpse at life, its dangers and responsibilities perhaps, but all its splendid thrill and glorious chance. The few cold words from her prim mother had conjured up a rich glowing picture to this girl, who for years had chafed at the narrow round, longing for something—she knew not what, but something broader, something where she could be much more herself—longing, she knew now, for freedom and for life.
Mrs. Hallam looked at her with pain in her eyes.
"Aren't you happy, haven't you been happy here?" she asked.
"Why of course I have, you dearest of dear old mums," cried Helena, and pressed her lips against her mother's cheek; "but——," and she hesitated.
"But——?" asked her mother, smiling sadly. How ridiculous, how almost tragic, it all was! She threw back her mind to her own first romance and wondered where the man was now. "But——? Tell me, dear. I shall quite understand and I am sure you need not feel afraid of me!"
Helena thought deeply. Words were so difficult.
"But——," she said once again; and then, suddenly inspired, she started rapidly; "Well, it is what you said just now. I—I must live my own life. I want—I want to grow. I've not grown since I was fifteen. I felt so silly, like a child, when I was talking to—to Mr. Brett, and I am twenty now." She said this most imposingly.
"And so," said Mrs. Hallam, trying not to smile, "you want to marry Mr. Brett because he made you feel so silly when you talked to him?"
Helena flushed, still sensitive to ridicule. "I want to marry Mr. Brett," she said with dignity, "because he is clever, and being a fool, I admire cleverness more than anything in the whole world, and I believe he'd let me expand."