"Oh, Maggie, you oughtn't to! I oughtn't to let you. Maggie, look
here: you will be careful, won't you?"
"Now, you go right along back to your brother," the woman commanded
smiling. "I'm goin' to get into my clothes; t'won't do me a bit of
harm."
And Helena, protesting and joyous, fled to her room and to her mirror.
She flung off her cambric morning dress and ran to hunt in her
wardrobe for something pretty. With girlish hurry she pulled her hair
down, braided it afresh, and fastened the burnished plats around her
head like a wreath; then she brushed the soft locks in the nape of her
neck about her finger, and let them fall into loose curls. She dressed
with breathless haste, and when she finished, stood for a minute, her
lip between her teeth, staring at herself in the glass. And as she
stared her face fell; for as the color and sparkle faded a little,
care suddenly looked out of the leaf-brown eyes--care and something
like fright. But instantly drawing in her breath, she flung her head
up as one who prepares for battle. When she went down-stairs and found
Mr. Pryor waiting for her in the parlor, the sparkle had all come
back. She had put on a striped silk dress, faint rose and green, made
very full in the skirt; her flat lace collar was fastened by a little
old pin--an oval of pearls holding a strand of hair like floss-silk.
"Why, Nelly," her visitor said, "you look younger every time I see
you."
She swept him a great courtesy, making her dress balloon out about
her; then she clasped her hands at her throat, her chin resting on the
fluff of her white undersleeves, and looked up at him with a delighted
laugh. "We are not very old, either of us; I am thirty-three and you
are only forty-six--I call that young. Oh, Lloyd, I was so low-
spirited this morning; and now--you are here!" She pirouetted about
the room in a burst of gayety.
As he watched her through half-shut eyes, the bored good humor in his
face sharpened into something keener; he caught her hand as she
whirled past, drawing her close to him with a murmured caress. She,
pausing in her joy, looked at him with sudden intentness.
"Have you heard anything of--Frederick?"
At which he let her go again and answered curtly: "No; nothing.
Perfectly well, the last I heard. In Paris, and enjoying himself in
his own peculiar fashion."
She drew in her breath and turned her face away; they were both
silent. Then she said, dully, that she never heard any news. "Mr.
Raynor sends me my accounts every three months, but he never says
anything about--Frederick."