She had a confused recollection of streets crowded with throngs of people, of the roar of carriages, the bewildering turmoil of active daily business life, and then faint and weak, of a long, long, dreamy rest upon a seat in an open park, of wild schemes for the future floating through her brain, without the power to reduce them to practicability, of a sinking foreboding sense of helplessness, a startling perception that she must starve and die.
And she shivered, and her teeth chattered as she remembered the grim water—remembered how, like a magnet, it drew her towards it; how it wooed her with a low dirge, the burden of which was that Hugh was there; how it offered her eternal repose, and stilled its surface so that calmness and peace seemed alone to be found within its placid bosom.
Then she remembered the small voice that rose up and made a claim on life; the agonized struggle that followed; the sudden interposition of a stranger; the deep voice of Lester Vane, being saved from his loathly arms; and on, on, incident by incident, until her eyes and thoughts rested upon the face of the young fair girl who sat at the window, her eyes bent fixedly upon her work, and her hand swiftly and unceasingly moving to and fro.
Then she remembered that she had made her her confidante; that she was now the only friend she had in the wide, wide world; and that, but for her, she would have been at this moment face to face with an offended Creator; that, but for her, she must now even become a wretched outcast.
She began to see that pride was a hollow phantom, powerless to serve at need; that selfishness slaughtered sympathy, and repelled friendship; that true worth and pure human philanthropy were to be found in the humble; that human creatures were human clay alike; and the distinctions of the world proved their shadowy nature by melting away at the first touch of adversity.
She saw that the young girl who had saved her was what the world calls humble; she involuntarily placed her hands before her eyes, and felt how humble she herself was by comparison in the eyes of God.
Presently she felt soft fingers gently drawing her hands from her eyes, and she heard a sweet, low voice.
It said—
“Do not weep, pray, do not, It will make you ill, and me so wretched. Tears are foes when they deter us from doing our duty to ourselves. Will you not rise and dress. We will talk of the future over breakfast. Do you know, miss, I have secured you the dearest little room, next to this, where nobody can intrude upon you, and where I will strive to make you as cheerful and as happy as I can, if you should feel depressed and lonely, as at times I daresay you will—but you know that you have had too much indulgence in grief just now, and so you must dry your eyes and exert yourself. Come, come, you will try to oblige me—will you not?”
Helen caught her hands in her own with a sudden clutch, and pressed them to her burning lips. Then she flung back her dark tresses from her face of marble hue, over which, escaped from their bands, they had straggled.