Helen stooped and whispered a few words in her ear.
“Five hundred dollars!” repeated Alice, in astonishment, “that is a fortune. Who has been so generous?”
“Never mind!” said Helen, smiling. “You see, then, that you are not so poor as you imagined. Now do you think, if I sent a carriage for you in the course of the afternoon, you can move?”
“Yes,” said Alice, in a tone of deep thankfulness. “No one can tell how much I detest this horrible place. I think it will make me well only to move.”
Over the wasted face of her sister there stole an expression of deep and thankful joy.
“I think you are an angel,” she said, looking up into Helen’s beautiful face, radiant with sympathy.
Helen blushed.
“How pleasant it is to be able to make others happy!” she said, softly, to Herbert.
“Do you know, Helen,” said the young artist, “I am half tempted to agree with your patient there.”
“Brother Herbert,” said Helen, quickly, “you must not speak so. I am only doing what you would do in my place. I don’t like to be praised for only doing what is pleasant to me.”