“I shall get well so fast,” she said; and she was right, for Helen was worth far more to her than all the physician’s powders, and Wilford was glad that Helen came, even if she did sometimes shock him with her independent ways, upsetting all his plans and theories with regard to Katy, and meeting him on other grounds with an opposition as puzzling as it was new to him.
To Mrs. Cameron Helen was a study; she seemed to care so little for what others might think of her, evincing no hesitation, no timidity, when told the second day after her arrival that Mrs. Banker was in the parlor, and had asked to see Miss Lennox. Mrs. Cameron did not suspect how under that calm, unmoved exterior, Helen was hiding a heart which beat painfully as she went down to meet the mother of Mark Ray, going first to her own room to make some little change in her toilet, and wishing that her dress was more like the dress of those around her—like Mrs. Cameron’s, or even Esther’s and the fashionable nurse’s. One glance she gave to the brown silk, Wilford’s gift, but her good sense told her that the plain merino she wore was more suitable to the sick room where she spent her time, and so with a fresh collar and cuffs, and another brush of her hair, she went to Mrs. Banker, forgetting herself in her pleasure at finding in the stranger a lady so wholly congenial and familiar, whose mild, dark eyes rested so kindly on her, and whose pleasant voice had something motherly in its tone, putting her at her ease, and making her appear at her very best.
Mrs. Banker was pleased with Helen, and she felt a kind of pity for the young girl thrown so suddenly among strangers, without even her sister to assist her.
“Have you been out at all?” she asked, and upon Helen’s replying that she had not, she answered, “That is not right. Accustomed to the fresh country air, you will suffer from too close confinement. Suppose you ride with me. My carriage is at the door, and I have a few hours’ leisure. Tell your sister I insist,” she continued, as Helen hesitated between inclination and what she fancied was her duty.
To see New York with Mrs. Banker was a treat indeed, and Helen’s heart bounded high as she ran up to Katy’s room with the request.
“Yes, go by all means,” Katy said. “It is so kind in Mrs. Banker, and so like her, too. I meant that Wilford should have driven with you to-day, and spoke to him about it, but Mrs. Banker will do better. Tell her I thank her so much for her thoughtfulness,” and with a kiss Katy sent Helen away, while Mrs. Cameron, after twisting her rings nervously for a moment, said to Katy:
“Perhaps your sister will do well to wear your furs. Hers are small, and common fitch.”
“Yes, certainly. Take them to her,” Katy answered, knowing intuitively the feeling which had prompted this suggestion from her mother-in-law, who hastened to Helen’s room with the rich sable she was to wear in place of the old fitch.
Helen appreciated the difference at once between her furs and Katy’s and felt a pang of mortification as she saw how old and poor and dowdy hers were beside the others. But they were her own—the best she could afford. She would not begin by borrowing, and so she declined the offer, and greatly to Mrs. Cameron’s horror went down to Mrs. Banker clad in the despised furs, which Mrs. Cameron would on no account have had beside her on Broadway in an open carriage. Mrs. Banker noticed them, too, but the eager, happy face, which grew each moment brighter as they drove down the street, more than made amends; and in watching that and pointing out the places which they passed, Mrs. Banker forgot the furs and the coarse straw hat whose strings of black had undeniably been dyed. Never in her life had Helen enjoyed a ride as she did that pleasant winter day, when her kind friend took her wherever she wished to go, showing her Broadway in its glory from Union Square to Wall Street, where they encountered Mark in the bustling crowd. He saw them, and beckoned to them, while Helen’s face grew red, as, lifting his hat to her, he came up to the carriage, and at his mother’s suggestion took a seat just opposite, asking where they had been, and jocosely laughing at his mother’s taste in selecting such localities as the Five Points, the Tombs and Barnum’s Museum, when there were so many finer places to be seen.
Helen felt the hot blood pricking the roots of her hair for the Five Points, the Tombs and Barnum’s Museum had been her choice as the points of which she had heard the most. So when Mark continued: