It was almost too good to be true, she sometimes said to herself, as she remembered the sad conditions that had prevailed while they were in Paris. But she would not allow herself to dwell upon those unhappy experiences; the present was full of hope and promise, and she firmly believed that her husband's fame and fortune were assured.
Had John Hungerford possessed "the stable mind," as Monsieur Jacques once expressed it, all must have gone well; if he had been less egotistical, selfish, and vain, more persevering and practical; had he not been naturally so indolent—"lazy," to quote his former teacher again—and pleasure-loving, he might have risen rapidly, and maintained his position.
But, as time wore on, and the novelty of his popularity and prosperity began to pall upon him; as the demands upon his patience became greater, and the supervision of students required more concentration and attention to detail; as the filling of increasing orders for his own work made it necessary to stick closer to his easel, day after day, life began to seem "a grind" again.
He grew discontented, irritable, restless. He lost patience with his students, and became indifferent to his duty to them, until they began to be disaffected, and dropped away from him. He neglected orders until his patrons became angry and withdrew them, and finally, becoming dissatisfied with his own work, he dropped back into his old habit of starting subject after subject, only to set them aside to try something else, rarely completing anything; all of which tended toward the ruin of his once prosperous business, as well as his reputation as an artist.
All this came about so gradually that, for a long time, no one save Helen suspected how matters were going. She begged him to wake up and renew his efforts, both for her sake and Dorothy's, as well as for his own; and she encouraged him in every possible way. But nothing that she could say or do served to arouse him from the mental and moral lethargy that possessed and grew upon him.
Fortunately, in spite of their recent prosperity, Helen had retained her pupils in music, more because of her love for the work than because she felt the need of money, as at first. Thus, when her husband's income began to fall off, she dropped, little by little, into the way of sharing the household expenses from her own earnings, and so assumed burdens which he should have borne himself.
As month succeeded month, things continued to grow worse, until rumors of the truth got afloat, and his friends and patrons began to show their disapproval of his downward course, and even to shun his society.
Yet these significant omens did not serve to arouse him. On the contrary, his indifference and indolence increased, and his old love for wandering returned; his studio would frequently be closed for days, sometimes for weeks, at a time, and only his boon companions knew where he could be found.
Helen regarded these evidences of deterioration with a sinking heart, yet tried to be patient. She did not complain, even when their funds ran very low, but cheerfully supplied the needs of the family, and bravely tried to fortify herself with the hope that John could not long remain oblivious to his responsibilities, and would eventually retrieve himself.
During all this time she had been making splendid progress in her own musical training—especially in the cultivation of her voice. She had often given her services in behalf of charitable entertainments, and not infrequently assisted her friends to entertain by singing a charming group of songs at parties and receptions; thus she had gained for herself the reputation of being a most pleasing vocalist.