The Road to Understanding Part 35

"So? Good! I shall be glad to see Estey," commented her husband.

Once Helen would have given a cry, dropped her fork with a clatter, or otherwise made her startled perturbation conspicuous to all. That only an almost imperceptible movement and a slight change of color resulted now showed something of what Helen Denby had learned during the last few years.

"You say Mr. Donald Estey will be--here, to-morrow?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. You remember him," nodded Mrs. Reynolds. "He was at the Thayers'

at the same time I was there six years ago--tall, good-looking fellow with gla.s.ses."

"Yes, I remember," smiled Helen. And never would one have imagined that behind the quiet words was a wild clamor of "Oh, what shall I do--what shall I do--what _shall_ I do?"

What Helen Denby wanted to do was to run away--far away, where Mr.

Donald Estey could never find her. Next best would be to tell Mrs.

Reynolds that she could not see him; but to do that, she would have to tell why--and she did not want to tell even Mrs. Reynolds the story of that awful hour at the Thayers' North Sh.o.r.e cottage. True, she might feign illness and plead a headache; but Mrs. Reynolds had said that Mr.

Estey was to be in London all winter--and she could not very well have a headache all winter! There was plainly no way but to meet this thing fairly and squarely. Besides, had not Mrs. Thayer said long ago that emergencies were the greatest test of manners, as well as of ropes and housewives, and that she must always be ready for emergencies? Was she to fail now at this, her first real test?

Mr. Donald Estey was already in the drawing-room when Helen Denby came down to dinner the following evening. She had put on a simple white dress--after a horrified rejection of a blue one, her first choice. (She had remembered just in time that Mr. Donald Estey's favorite color was blue.) She was pale, but she looked charmingly pretty as she entered the room.

"You remember Mr. Estey," Mrs. Reynolds murmured. The next moment Helen found her hand in a warm clasp, and a pair of laughing gray eyes looking straight into hers.

"Oh, yes, I remember him very well," she contrived to say cheerfully.

"And I remember Mrs. Darling very well," came to her ears in Mr. Donald Estey's smoothly noncommittal voice. Then she forced herself to walk calmly across the room and to sit down leisurely.

What anybody said next she did not hear. Somewhere within her a voice was exulting: "I've done it, I've done it, and I didn't make a break!"

It was a small table, and conversation at dinner was general. At first Helen said little, not trusting herself to speak unless a question made speech imperative; but gradually she found the tense something within her relaxing. She was able then to talk more freely; and before the dinner was over she was apparently quite her usual self.

As to Mr. Donald Estey--Mr. Donald Estey was piqued and surprised, but mightily interested. Half his antic.i.p.ated pleasure in this dinner had been the fact that he was to see Mrs. Darling again. She would blush and stammer, and be adorably embarra.s.sed, of course. He had not forgotten how distractingly pretty she was when she blushed. He would like to see her blush again.

But here she was--and she had not blushed at all. What had happened? A cool little woman in a cool little gown had put a cool little hand in his, with a cool "Oh, yes, I remember him very well." And that was all.

Yet she was the same Mrs. Darling that he had met six years before, and that had-- But was she the same, really the same? _That_ Mrs. Darling could never have carried off a meeting like this with such sweet serenity. He wondered--

Mr. Donald Estey was still trying to pigeonhole the women he met.

Mr. Donald Estey found frequent opportunity for studying his new-old friend during the days that followed, for they were much together. In Mrs. Reynolds's eyes he made a very convenient fourth for a day's sight-seeing trip or a concert, and she often asked him to join them.

Also he made an even more convenient escort for herself and Helen when, as often happened, Mr. Reynolds was unable to accompany them.

In one way and another, therefore, he was thrown often with this somewhat baffling young woman, who refused to be catalogued. The very fact that he still could not place her made him more persistent than ever. Besides, to himself he owned that he found her very charming--and very charming all the time. There was never on his part now that old feeling of aversion, of which he used to be conscious at times. And she was always quite the lady. He wondered how he could ever have thought her anything else. True, on that remarkable occasion six years before, she had said something about learning how to please--But he was trying to forget that scene. He did not believe that everything was quite straight about that extraordinary occasion. There must have been, in some way, a mistake. He did not believe, anyway, that it signified. At all events, he was not going to worry about a dead and gone past like that.

Mr. Donald Estey was not the only one that was trying to forget that occasion. Helen herself was putting it behind her whenever the thought of it entered her head. Thinking of it brought embarra.s.sment; and she did not like to feel embarra.s.sed. She believed that he was trying to show that he had forgotten it; and if he were disposed to forget the ridiculous affair, surely she should be more than glad to do it. And she considered it very fine of him--very fine, indeed. She liked him, too.

She liked him very much, and she enjoyed being with him. And there could be no harm now, either, in being with him all she liked, for he could never make the mistake of thinking she cared for him particularly. He understood that she loved some one else. They might be as friendly as they pleased. There could never--thank Heaven!--be any misunderstanding about their relations.h.i.+p.

Confidently serene, therefore, Helen Denby enjoyed to the full the stimulus of Mr. Donald Estey's companions.h.i.+p. Then, abruptly, her house of cards tumbled about her ears.

"Mrs. Darling, will you marry me?" the man asked one day. He spoke lightly, so lightly that she could not believe him serious. Yet she gave him a startled glance before she answered.

"Mr. Estey, please don't jest!"

"I'm not jesting. I'm in earnest. Will you marry me?"

"_Mr. Estey!_" She could only gasp her dismay.

"You seem surprised." He was still smiling.

"But you can't--you can't be in earnest, Mr. Estey."

"Why not, pray?"

"Why, you know--you must remember--what I--I told you, six years ago."

The red suffused her face.

"You mean--that you cared for some one else?" He spoke gravely now. The smile was quite gone from his eyes. "But, Mrs. Darling, it's just there that I can't believe _you're_ in earnest. Besides, that was six years ago."

"But I am in earnest, and it's the same--_now_," she urged feverishly.

"Oh, Mr. Estey, please, please, don't let's spoil our friends.h.i.+p--this way. I thought you understood--I supposed, of course, you understood that I--I loved some one else very much."

"But, Mrs. Darling, you said that six years ago, and--and you're still free _now_. Naturally no man would be such a fool as to let-- So I thought, of course, that you had--had--" He came to a helpless pause.

The color swept her face again.

"But I told you then that I was--was learning--was trying to learn-- Oh, why do you make me say it?"

He glanced at her face, then jerked himself to his feet angrily.

"Oh, come, come, Mrs. Darling, you don't expect me to believe that you now, _now_ are still trying to learn to please (as you call it) some mythically impossible man!"

"He's not mythically impossible. He's real."

"Then he's blind, deaf, and dumb, I suppose!" Mr. Donald Estey's voice was still wrathful.

In spite of herself Helen Denby laughed.

"No, no, oh, no! He's--" Suddenly her face grew grave, and very earnest.

"Mr. Estey, I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand. If you--you care anything for me, you will not question me any more. I _can't_ tell you.

Please, please don't say any more."

But Mr. Donald Estey did say more--a little more. He did not say much, for the piteous pleading in the blue eyes stayed half the words on his lips before they were uttered. In the end he went away with a baffled, hurt pain in his own eyes, and Helen did not see him again for some days. But he came back in time. The pain still lurked in his eyes, but there was a resolute smile on his lips.

"If you'll permit, I want things to be as they were before," he told her. "I'm still your friend, and I hope you are mine."

"Why, of course, of course," she stammered. "Only, I--you--"

As she hesitated, plainly disturbed, he raised a quick hand of protest.

"Don't worry." His resolute smile became almost gay. "You'll see how good a friend I can be!"

If Mr. Donald Estey was hoping to take by strategy the citadel that had refused to surrender, he gave no sign. As the days came and went, he was clearly and consistently the good friend he had said he would be; and Helen Denby found no cause to complain, or to fear untoward results.