Helen would have preferred to return to her parents, for she yearned for familiar scenes, and particularly for her mother at this time; but she yielded her will to her husband's, and they made a pretty home for themselves in an attractive suburb of Paris, where, a little later, there came to the young wife, in her exile—for such it almost seemed to her—a great joy.
A little daughter, the Dorothy of our opening chapter, was born to John and Helen Hungerford a few weeks after the anniversary of their marriage; and, being still deeply in love with each other, it seemed to them as if their cup of happiness was filled to the brim.
Shortly afterward, however, with only a few days between the two sad events, cable messages brought the heartbreaking tidings that Helen's father and mother had both been taken from her, and the blow, for the time, seemed likely to crush her.
John, in his sympathy for his wife, was for immediately throwing up his work, and taking her directly home; but Helen, more practical and less impulsive than her husband, reasoned that there was nothing to be gained by such a rash move, while much would have to be sacrificed in forfeiting his course of lessons, which had been paid for in advance; while she feared that such an interruption would greatly abate his enthusiasm, if it did not wholly discourage him from the task of perfecting himself in his studies.
She knew that her father's lawyer, who had been his adviser for many years, was amply qualified to settle Mr. Appleton's business; and, having unbounded confidence in him, she felt that whatever would be required of her could be done as well by correspondence as by her personal presence. Consequently it was decided best to remain where they were until John should become well grounded in his profession, and able to get on without a teacher.
But when Mr. Appleton's affairs were settled it was learned that the scant sum of five thousand dollars was all that his daughter would inherit from his estate. This unlooked-for misfortune was a great surprise to the young husband and wife; a bitter disappointment, also, particularly to John Hungerford, who had imagined, when he married her, that Helen would inherit quite a fortune from her father, who, it was generally believed, had amassed a handsome property.
Helen very wisely decided that the five thousand dollars must be put aside for Dorothy's future education, and she directed the lawyer to invest the money for the child, as his best judgment dictated, and allow the interest to accumulate until they returned to America.
Three years slipped swiftly by after this, and during this time John, who seemed really to love his work, gave promise of attaining proficiency, if not fame, in his profession. At least, Monsieur Jacques, who appeared to take a deep interest in his student's progress, encouraged him to believe he could achieve something worth while in the future, provided he applied himself diligently to that end.
Helen, though chastened and still grieving sorely over the loss of her parents, was happy and content to live very quietly, keeping only one servant, and herself acting the part of nurse for Dorothy. Before her marriage she had supposed John to be the possessor of considerable wealth, and this belief had been confirmed during their first year abroad by his lavish expenditure. He had spared no expense to contribute to her pleasure, had showered expensive gifts upon her, and gratified every whim of his own. But when her father's estate had been settled he had betrayed deep disappointment and no little anxiety in view of the small amount coming to Helen; and it had finally come out that his own fortune had been a very moderate one, the greater portion of which had been consumed during their extravagant honeymoon.
This startling revelation set Helen to thinking very seriously. She realized that the limited sum remaining to them would have to be carefully husbanded, or they would soon reach the end of their resources. John's studies were expensive, and it might be some time yet before he could expect to realize from his profession an income that could be depended upon, while, never yet having denied himself anything he wanted, he had no practical idea of economy.