Across the Stream

by E. F. Benson

Helena had seen her also, and she smiled rather sadly, rather wistfully.

"Yes," she said. "But she doesn't want us, Archie."

And at that the instinct which had spoken to him so emphatically a moment before sank out of hearing again, and the colour returned to Helena's deft little sketch.

CHAPTER VIII

It was four o'clock on an afternoon of mid-July, and the westering sun had begun to blaze into the drawing-room windows of Colonel Vautier's house in Oakland Crescent. It was pleasant enough there in the winter, for the room, being small, was easily heated; but in the summer, with even greater ease it grew oven-like, and Helena, sitting by the open window for the sake of any air that might possibly wander into the dusty crescent, was obliged to pull down the blinds. She had tried sitting in her father's study, but that had an infection of stray cigar-smoke about it which she did not want to catch, and the dining-room and her own bedroom, since they faced the same way as the drawing-room, presented no counter-attractions. So, reluctantly, she was compelled to sit here, while Jessie, with a book in her hand, sat at the other end of the room. Jessie had a slight attack of hay-fever, and from time to time indulged in a fit of sneezing. It seemed to Helena that she was being very inconsiderate: it was always possible to stifle a sneeze. But Jessie never thought about other people. Helena, by way of waiting patiently at Jessie's door (according to the tender image she had fashioned for Archie's benefit) had just expressed this opinion slightly veiled, and she was pleased to see that at this moment Jessie left the room. A sound of sneezing from outside indicated that at last her sister had grasped how exceedingly unpleasant her hay-fever was for other people. Then there came the sound of ascending steps, and she guessed that Jessie had gone to her bedroom. The floors were wretchedly thin and ill-constructed; you could, from any room in the house, hear movements from any other room, especially since Colonel Vautier and Jessie had such solid, resounding steps when they went anywhere.

Left to herself, Helena cleared her decks, and enumerated her cause of complaint against Providence, who ought to have been so kind to an innocent, loving little soul. In the first place, her father had finished his irrigation business in Egypt unexpectedly soon, and instead of arriving in London not before September, had come two months earlier than the most pessimistic daughter could have expected. The news of his approaching arrival had provoked a perfect conspiracy against Helena's comfort and her plans, for every one, including Cousin Marion, who had been so insistent on the girls' staying with her till he got home, had taken it for granted that they would at once rejoin him. Surely it would have been sufficient for Jessie to go (and she did Jessie the justice of allowing that she was perfectly ready to do so), leaving Helena to help Cousin Marion in the answering of her letters in the morning for some half-hour, in the entertaining of her numerous guests, and in accompanying her to any of those pleasant gaieties which swarmed about that desirable house. But instead, Cousin Marion had been quite unaware, to all appearance, of the hints Helena had subtly suggested, and Archie had been equally uncomprehending. When she had said, "This house seems so much more like my home than any other," he had certainly glowed with pleasure, but had not thought it was meant to have any application with regard to her going back to Oakland Crescent. No one had taken her hints; it had occurred to nobody how suitable it was that Jessie should go to look after her father, and Helena remain to look after her cousin. But since her hints were not taken, Helena, like the excellent tactician she was, had retreated in preference to standing her ground and suffering defeat. She had to retreat, and she retreated with exactly the proper mixture of regret at leaving Grosvenor Square and of joy at her father's premature return. And when his taxi cab drew up palpitating at the door, it was she who ran down the three concrete steps from the front-door and across the awful little dusty yard called the front garden, with its cinder path that circulated round one laurel-bush, and flung herself into his arms, and helped the parlour-maid to carry in his bag, while Jessie waited in the narrow entrance that reeked of the ascending fumes of dinner, for the parlour-maid, as usual, had left open the door at the head of the kitchen stairs.

There was a grudge against Providence even deeper than this unnecessary transplanting of herself to Oakland Crescent, when she might so comfortably have flourished in Grosvenor Square, Archie had dined with them two nights ago, before taking her on to a dance, and in the interval that followed dinner, when her father and Archie remained downstairs, she had a painful scene with Jessie. Jessie, according to Helena's public version, had misunderstood her in the cruellest manner, but she knew that her real complaint here was not that her sister had cruelly misunderstood her, but had, in fact, cruelly understood her, which was more intolerable than any misunderstanding could have been. She could have borne a misunderstanding very patiently, but to be understood was of the nature of an exposure, of a kind scarcely decent, and impossible to forget.

It had begun so stupidly, so innocuously. She had but left a few orchids on her dressing-table, and Jessie, who naturally was not going to the dance, but was remaining at home to keep her father company, most kindly offered to get them for her. She came down again so ominously silent that Helena had asked her what the trouble was, and it appeared that Jessie had seen on the dressing-table the card of Lord Harlow with a safety-pin attached to it.

"Yes, darling, why not?" Helena had said. "He sent me those lovely orchids—thank you so much for getting them. He is going to be there to-night, and as he sent expressly for them from Harlow, naturally I shall wear them. It would be rude not to, don't you think?"

Jessie did not reply, and Helena repeated her question. For answer,
Jessie had said in that soft rich voice which was the only thing that
Helena envied her: