Helen was clever and she had a rare opportunity to learn inside political facts, as well as to acquire skill in marshalling them to conclusions. She spurred Kit on and made him put forth his best powers to cope with her. When they returned to the piazza Kit found himself aroused, thinking fast, conscious of having enjoyed the past hour keenly, as a man must enjoy whatever puts him on his mettle.
“You’re a great girl, Helen Abercrombie!” he said with sincere admiration. “You will hold your own if ever you get that salon you dream of, or are launched on a sea wide enough and windy enough for you.”
“Helen is the peer of the most brilliant men. She will be a tower of strength to her associates,” said Miss Carrington, delighted to see that Kit was impressed.
“Oh, it’s hats off! When the governor’s daughter passes by! Passes by us all,” agreed Kit, so readily that his aunt frowned. She suspected that Kit was thinking that womanly sweetness surpassed Helen’s talents. But she said pleasantly:
“Quite right, Kit! I can’t help feeling sorry that Richard Latham is going to miss complete intellectual companionship. No matter what nice things he says of her, of course we know that Miss Dallas is not his equal. However, she is a nice, trusty, sympathetic girl, and on the whole I am glad—since he can’t have such as Helen, for the good reason that there is none like her!—that he will be taken care of, and at least be secure of the self-sacrificing devotion that a blind man needs. It is hard to keep in mind that he is a blind man; not only a great poet.”
“Why do you speak, or did you mean to speak, as though Miss Dallas would marry Mr. Latham?” Kit smilingly asked.
“Oh, don’t you know about it?” asked Miss Carrington, blandly. “I suppose it isn’t talked of yet. You should keep a lady’s maid, Kit! Here we are just returned and are in possession of facts, while you, right within hail of Cupid, never saw a flash of his arrow!”
“Facts, Aunt Anne? Do you mean facts?” Poor Kit spoke with difficulty.
“Surely, Kit, my dear; why not? Isn’t an engagement usually a fact? Minerva met Mr. Latham’s housekeeper who knows all that the principals themselves know, probably more! Mrs. Lumley—that’s the housekeeper—rather resents it. Naturally a woman of her class would resent her employer’s marrying below his own. Though I confess I’ve found Miss Dallas in every way correct, quite like a well-born person. Then Mrs. Lumley would be jealous of authority, a woman’s authority over her, where she has reigned supreme. These things embroider the story attractively when Minerva tells it, but they are not intrinsic to the fabric. The important fact, important to us all, since Richard Latham’s work will be affected by it—Cleavedge’s celebrity’s work—is that our poet is engaged to be married to the little brown Dallas girl.”
“Aunt Anne, he isn’t! What nonsense you—I beg your pardon! I mean what nonsense Minerva talks. It isn’t so because—because—it can’t be so!” Kit exploded.