Helen was sent for, and now sat waiting in the parlor for the coming of Mrs. Cameron. Wilford did not mean Katy to hear him as he whispered to his mother that Helen was below; but she did, and her blue eyes flashed brightly as she started from her pillow, exclaiming:
“I am so glad, so glad! Kiss me, Wilford, because I am so glad. Does she know? Have you told her? Wasn’t she surprised, and will she come up quick?”
They could not quiet her at once, and only the assurance that unless she were more composed, Helen should not see her that night, had any effect upon her; but when they told her that, she lay back upon her pillow submissively, and Wilford saw the great tears dropping from her hot cheeks, while the pallid lips kept softly whispering “Helen.” Then the sister love took another channel, and she said:
“She has not been to supper, and Phillips is always cross at extras. Will somebody see to it. Send Esther to me, please. Esther knows and is good-natured.”
“Mother will do all that is necessary. She is going down,” Wilford said; but Katy had quite as much fear of leaving Helen to “mother” as to Phillips, and insisted upon Esther until the latter came, receiving numerous injunctions as to the jam, the sweetmeats, the peaches, and the cold ham Helen must have, each one being remembered as her favorite.
Wholly unselfish, Katy thought nothing of herself or the effort it cost her to care for Helen; but when it was over and Esther was gone, she seemed so utterly exhausted that Mrs. Cameron did not leave her, but stayed at her bedside, until the extreme paleness was gone, and her eyes were more natural. Meanwhile the supper, which as Katy feared had made Phillips cross, had been arranged by Esther, who conducted Helen to the dining-room, herself standing by and waiting upon her because the one whose duty it was had gone out for the evening, and Phillips had declined the “honor,” as she styled it.
There was a homesick feeling tugging at Helen’s heart while she tried to eat, and only the certainty that Katy was not far away kept her tears back. To her the very grandeur of the house made it desolate, and she was so glad it was Katy who lived there and not herself as she went up the soft carpeted stairway, which gave back no sound, and through the marble hall to the parlor, where, by the table on which her cloak and furs were lying, a lady stood, as dignified and unconscious as if she had not been inspecting the self-same fur which Mark Ray had observed, but not, like him, thinking it did not matter, for it did matter very materially with her, and a smile of contempt had curled her lip as she turned over the tippet which Phillips would not have worn.
“I wonder how long she means to stay, and if Wilford will have to take her out,” she was thinking, just as Helen appeared in the door and advanced into the room.
By herself, it was easy to slight Helen Lennox, but in her presence Mrs. Cameron found it very hard to appear as cold and distant as she had meant to do, for there was something about Helen which commanded her respect, and she went forward to meet her, offering her hand and saying cordially:
“Miss Lennox, I presume—my daughter Katy’s sister?”