“Gone! Gone where?”
“Away, Aunt Polly! Nobody saw him go, and he left a note saying that he would never return. And I am so frightened—”
Mrs. Roberts was gazing at her niece with a puzzled look upon her face. She interrupted her by echoing the word “frightened” inquiringly.
“Yes, Auntie!” cried the girl; “for I may never be able to find him again, to undo what I have done!”
And Mrs. Roberts responded with a wondering laugh, and observed, “For my part, I should think you'd be very glad to be rid of him so.”
She saw Helen give a start, but she could not read the girl's mind, and did not know how much she had done to estrange her by those words. It was as if Helen's whole soul had shrunk back in horror, and she sat staring at her aunt with open eyes.
“I suppose you think,” the other went on grimly, “that I am going to share all this wonderful sentimentality with you about that boy; but I assure you that you don't know me! He may get you to weep over him because he chooses to behave like a fool, but not me.”
Helen was still for a moment, and then she said, in an awe-stricken voice: “Aunt Polly, I have wrecked Arthur's life!” Mrs. Roberts responded with a loud guffaw, which was to the other so offensive that it was like a blow in the face.
“Wrecked his life!” the woman cried scornfully. “Helen, you talk like a baby! Can't you know in the first place that Arthur is doing all this high-tragedy acting for nothing in the world but to frighten you? Wrecked his life! And there you were, I suppose, all ready to get down on your knees to him, and beg his pardon for daring to be engaged, and to promise to come to his attic and live off bread and water, if he would only be good and not run away!”
Mrs. Roberts' voice was bitter and mocking, and her words seemed to Helen almost blasphemy; it had never occurred to her that such grief as hers would not be sacred to anyone. Yet there was no thought of anger in her mind just then, for she had been chastened in a fiery furnace, and was too full of penitence and humility for even that much egotism. She only bowed her head, and said, in a trembling voice: “Oh, Aunt Polly, I would stay in an attic and live off bread and water for the rest of my days, if I could only clear my conscience of the dreadful thing I have done.”