CHAPTER X
“Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.”
Naturally there was considerable agitation in the Roberts family on account of Helen's strange behavior; early the next morning Mrs. Roberts was at her niece's door, trying to gain admittance. This time she did not have to knock but once, and when she entered she was surprised to see that Helen was already up and dressing. She had been expecting to find the girl more prostrated than ever, and so the discovery was a great relief to her; she stood gazing at her anxiously.
“Helen, dear,” she said, “I scarcely know how to begin to talk to you about your extraordinary—”
“I wish,” interrupted Helen, “that you would not begin to talk to me about it at all.”
“But you must explain to me what in the world is the matter,” protested the other.
“I cannot possibly explain to you,” was the abrupt reply. Helen's voice was firm, and there was a determined look upon her face, a look which quite took her aunt by surprise.
“But, my dear girl!” she began once more.
“Aunt Polly!” said the other, interrupting her again, “I wish instead of talking about it you would listen to what I have to say for a few moments. For I have made up my mind just what I am going to do, and I am going to take the reins in my own hands and not do any arguing or explaining to anyone. And there is no use of asking me a word about what has happened, for I could not hope to make you understand me, and I do not mean to try.”