“There is another thing,” said she when we had finished the subject of the house, “upon which I want light, something upon which depends my staying here or going away. You know General Lattimore and I are friends, and that I place great trust in his conclusions. He says that the most terrible hard times here would result from anything happening to your syndicate. You have said almost the same thing once or twice, and the other day you said something about great operations which you have in view which will, somehow, do away with any danger of that kind. Is it true that you would all be—ruined by a—breaking up—or anything of that sort?”
“Just now,” I confessed, “such a thing would be dangerous; but I hope we shall soon be past all that.”
I told her, as well as I could, about our hopes, and of my mission to New York.
“You must suspect,” said she, “that my presence here is danger to your harmony; and through you, to all these people whose names even we have never heard. Shall I go away? I can go almost anywhere with mamma, and we can get along nicely. Now that pa is gone, my work here is over, and I want to get into the world.”
I thought of the parallelism between her discontent and the speech Mr. Cornish had made, referring so contemptuously to Lattimore. I began to see the many things in common between them, and I grew anxious for Jim.
“Of all things,” said she, “I want to avoid the rôle of Helen setting a city in flames. It would be so absurd—and so terrible; and rather than do such a hackneyed and harmful thing, I want to go away.”
“Do you really mean that?” I asked, “Haven’t you a desire to make your choice, and stay?”
“You mustn’t ask that question, Albert,” said she. “The answer is a secret—from every one. But I will say—that if you succeed in this mission, so as to put people here quite out of danger—I may not go away—not for some time!”
She was blushing again, just as she blushed when she admitted me. I thought once more of the fluttering cry, “Oh, please—please!” and the pause before she added the good-night, and my jealousy for Jim rose again.
“Well,” said I, rising, “all I can say is that I hope all will be safe when I return, and that you will find it quite possible to—remain. My advice is: do nothing looking toward leaving until I return.”