This request was like balm and oil to the man's wounded spirit, for it assured him that she never would have made it if there had been aught but good will in her heart for him, and immediately upon his arrival in his adopted city—adopted, for he knew that it would henceforth be his permanent home—he at once proceeded to fulfill her wishes, doing what he could from memory and the aid of photographs, that he might not have so much to do when Dorothy should arrive to give him sittings for the finishing touches.
Six months from the time she had made her request, Helen received a beautiful, richly framed, three-quarter size portrait of her dear one, that was to make her heart glad during all her future years—glad not only because of the faithful likeness, graceful pose, and artistic costume, but because of the masterly work that proclaimed it a production of high art, and which, to her, seemed like a priceless seal set upon the complete redemption of the man who had once been her husband.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A MASTERPIECE.
Three years later, at the earnest solicitation of Dorothy and her husband, Helen temporarily gave up her work to make an extensive tour abroad with them.
It proved to be, on the whole, a most happy and restful experience; and yet there were times when a tear would start, or a regretful sigh escape her lips as they went over ground and visited many places which she had traversed with John during their ideal honeymoon, so many years ago, and which could not fail to revive old associations.
But her two devoted children were delightful traveling companions, well posted, observant, and thoroughly appreciative in their sight-seeing; always careful for her comfort, and allowing her to rest whenever she did not feel quite equal to their more vigorous desire to "miss nothing that was worth while."
During these years previous to their trip, Dorothy had visited her father, in Paris, several times, and when at home had corresponded regularly with him; thus Helen had been in the way of knowing something of the details of his life and work.
She had also read of various notable things he had done, from foreign papers and art journals. But he had never directly communicated with her, nor she with him, except to thank him most gratefully for, and express her delighted appreciation of, Dorothy's portrait when it came to her carefully packed and ready to hang upon her wall.
She had realized that when they reached Paris, where they planned to remain longer than in most of the places they visited, she would be liable to see more or less of him, and she had taken this carefully into consideration before giving her consent to the trip. She felt that if she went she must cast no shadow upon the pleasure of the others. Dorothy had again become very fond and exceedingly proud of her father; Mr. Alexander also held him in highest esteem; hence, in justice to all, her own attitude must, in some measure, at least, conform to theirs. She believed, too, that John understood her, and would not allow himself to do or say aught that would disturb her harmony, while she would be able to avoid awkward situations by always having one or both of the young people with her.