“It shall be the last time that I am weak,” she thought, hoping to atone for the present by the future. “I will let her have her way this once, and then I will set myself to guide her in a better path.”
The grey, transparent veil of dusk stole down, and the clear stars shone through it. A little wind came creeping up the garden like a human sigh. One or two white moths flitted past, and a bird uttered a sleepy, smothered note. For a minute she loitered in the porch, listening to the pleasant, household stir within. Helen’s laugh mingled with John’s cheery tones and the clatter of supper-plates.
“Where is Rhoda?” she heard her mother say.
The jessamine, which grew all over the porch, swung its slender sprays into her face. The sweet, chill blossoms kissed her lips as she passed beneath them; but she went indoors with an unquiet mind.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER V.
HELEN UNDER A NEW ASPECT.
On Friday afternoon, Helen’s chamber-door chanced to be left open, and Rhoda caught a glimpse of a delicate silk dress lying on the bed. She went straight into the room and examined it. Bodice and sleeves were trimmed profusely with costly lace; the rich lilac folds might have stood alone, so thick was the texture. It was not the sort of dress that should have belonged to the wife of a merchant’s clerk. Rhoda was perplexed.