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Page 54
Helen met Marion as she was leaving the stage-door and stopped to
congratulate her on her success in the new part. Marion was radiant.
To Helen she seemed obstreperously happy and jubilant.
"And, Marion," Helen began, bravely, "I also want to congratulate you
on something else. You--you--neither of you have told me yet," she
stammered, "but I am such an old friend of both that I will not be
kept out of the secret." At these words Marion's air of triumphant
gayety vanished; she regarded Helen's troubled eyes closely and
kindly.
"What secret, Helen?" she asked.
"I came to the door of Philip's room the other day when you did not
know I was there," Helen answered, "and I could not help seeing how
matters were. And I do congratulate you both--and wish you--oh, such
happiness!" Without a word Marion dragged her back down the passage to
her dressing-room, and closed the door.
"Now tell me what you mean," she said.
"I am sorry if I discovered anything you didn't want known yet," said
Helen, "but the door was open. Mr. Wimpole had just left you and had
not shut it, and I could not help seeing."
Marion interrupted her with an eager exclamation of enlightenment.
"Oh, you were there, then," she cried. "And you?" she asked,
eagerly--"you thought Phil cared for me--that we are engaged, and it
hurt you; you are sorry? Tell me," she demanded, "are you sorry?"
Helen drew back and stretched out her hand toward the door.
"How can you!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "You have no right."
Marion stood between her and the door.
"I have every right," she said, "to help my friends, and I want to
help you and Philip. And, indeed, I do hope you _are_ sorry. I
hope you are miserable. And I'm glad you saw me kiss him. That was the
first and the last time, and I did it because I was happy and glad for
him; and because I love him, too, but not in the least in the way he
loves you. No one ever loved any one as he loves you. And it's time
you found it out. And if I have helped to make you find it out, I'm
glad, and I don't care how much I hurt you."
"Marion!" exclaimed Helen, "what does it mean? Do you mean that you
are not engaged; that--"
"Certainly not," Marion answered. "I am going to marry Reggie. It is
you that Philip loves, and I am very sorry for you that you don't love
him."
Helen clasped Marion's hands in both of hers.
"But, Marion!" she cried, "I do, oh, I do!"
* * * * *
There was a thick yellow fog the next morning, and with it rain and a
sticky, depressing dampness which crept through the window-panes, and
which neither a fire nor blazing gas-jets could overcome.
Philip stood in front of the fireplace with the morning papers piled
high on the centre-table and scattered over the room about him.
He had read them all, and he knew now what it was to wake up famous,
but he could not taste it. Now that it had come it meant nothing, and
that it was so complete a triumph only made it the harder. In his most
optimistic dreams he had never imagined success so satisfying as the
reality had proved to be; but in his dreams Helen had always held the
chief part, and without her, success seemed only to mock him.
He wanted to lay it all before her, to say, "If you are pleased, I am
happy. If you are satisfied, then I am content. It was done for you,
and I am wholly yours, and all that I do is yours." And, as though in
answer to his thoughts, there was an instant knock at the door, and
Helen entered the room and stood smiling at him across the table.
Her eyes were lit with excitement, and spoke with many emotions, and
her cheeks were brilliant with color. He had never seen her look more
beautiful.
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