At breakfast this morning I was agreeably surprised. No signs of anxiety showed themselves in my father’s face. Instead of retiring to his study when we rose from the table, he proposed taking a turn in the garden: “You are looking pale, Helena, and you will be the better for a little fresh air. Besides, I have something to say to you.”
Excitement, I am sure, is good for young women. I saw in his face, I heard in his last words, that the mystery of the lady was at last to be revealed. The sensation of languor and fatigue which follows a disturbed night left me directly.
My father gave me his arm, and we walked slowly up and down the lawn.
“When that lady called on me yesterday,” he began, “you wanted to know who she was, and you were surprised and disappointed when I refused to gratify your curiosity. My silence was not a selfish silence, Helena. I was thinking of you and your sister; and I was at a loss how to act for the best. You shall hear why my children were in my mind, presently. I must tell you first that I have arrived at a decision; I hope and believe on reasonable grounds. Ask me any questions you please; my silence will be no longer an obstacle in your way.”
This was so very encouraging that I said at once: “I should like to know who the lady is.”
“The lady is related to me,” he answered. “We are cousins.”
Here was a disclosure that I had not anticipated. In the little that I have seen of the world, I have observed that cousins—when they happen to be brought together under interesting circumstances—can remember their relationship, and forget their relationship, just as it suits them. “Is your cousin a married lady?” I ventured to inquire.
“No.”
Short as it was, that reply might perhaps mean more than appeared on the surface. The cook had heard the lady crying. What sort of tender agitation was answerable for those tears? Was it possible, barely possible, that Eunice and I might go to bed, one night, a widower’s daughters, and wake up the next day to discover a stepmother?
“Have I or my sister ever seen the lady?” I asked.