And then again the laughter broke out over her face, and she turned upon him, radiant. “It is so wonderful!” she cried. “It is so wonderful to be happy, to be free once more! And after so much darkness—oh, it is like coming out of prison! Arthur, dear Arthur, just think of it! And David will be so glad!” The tears started into the girl's eyes; she turned away to gaze about her at the golden morning and to drink in great draughts of its freshness that made her bosom heave. The life seemed to have leaped back into her face all at once, and the color into her cheeks, and she was more beautiful than ever. “To think of being happy!” she panted, “happy again! Oh, if I were not afraid of waking David, you do not know how happy I could be! Don't you think I ought to waken him anyway, Arthur?—it is so wonderful—it will make him strong again! It is so beautiful that you, whom I have always been so fond of, that you should be David's son! And you can live here and be happy with us! Arthur, do you know I used to think how much like David you looked, and wonder at it; but, oh, are you sure it is true?”
She chanced to think of the letter that had been left at her father's, and exclaimed, “It must have been that! You have been home, Arthur?” she added quickly. “And while father was up here?”
“Yes,” said he, “I wanted to see your father—I could not stay away from home any longer. I was so very lonely and unhappy—” Arthur stopped for a moment, and the girl paled slightly; as he saw it he continued rapidly: “There was no one there but the servant, and she gave me the letter.”
“And did she not tell you about me?” asked Helen.
“I asked if you were married,” Arthur said; “I would not listen to any more, for I could not bear it; when I had read the letter I came up here to look for my poor mother. I wanted to see her; I was as lonely as she ever was, and I wanted someone's sympathy—even that poor, beaten soul's. I heard in the town that she was dead; they told me where the grave was, and that was how I happened out here. I thought I would see it once before I left, and before the people who lived in this house were awake. Helen, when I saw you I thought it was a ghost.”
“It is wonderful, Arthur,” whispered the girl; “it is almost too much to believe—but, oh, I can't think of anything except how happy it will make David! I love him so, Arthur—and you will love him, too, you cannot help but love him.”
“Tell me about it all, Helen,” the other answered; “I heard nothing, you know, about my poor mother's story.”
Before Helen answered the question she glanced about her at the morning landscape, and for the first time thought of the fact that it was cold. “Let us go inside,” she said; “we can sit there and talk until David wakens.” And the two stole in, Helen opening the door very softly. David was sleeping in the next room, so that it was possible not to disturb him; the two sat down before the flickering fire and conversed in low whispers. The girl told him the story of David's love, and told him all about David, and Arthur in turn told her how he had been living in the meantime; only because he saw how suddenly happy she was, and withal how nervous and overwrought, he said no more of his sufferings.
And Helen had forgotten them utterly; it was pathetic to see her delight as she thought of being freed from the fearful terror that had haunted her,—she was like a little child in her relief. “He will be so happy—he will be so happy!” she whispered again and again. “We can all be so happy!” The thought that Arthur was actually David's son was so wonderful that she seemed never to be able to realize it fully, and every time she uttered the thought it was a sweep of the wings of her soul. Arthur had to tell her many times that it was actually Mary who had been named in that letter.
So an hour or two passed by, and still David did not waken. Helen had crept to the door once or twice to listen to his quiet breathing; but each time, thinking of his long trial, she had whispered that she could not bear to disturb him yet. However, she was getting more and more impatient, and she asked Arthur again and again, “Don't you think I ought to wake him now, don't you think so—even if it is just for a minute, you know? For oh, he will be so glad—it will be like waking up in heaven!”