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A Rose of Yesterday

Chapter 7 No.7

Word Count: 3455    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

up altogether in a sort of alternation. But the spring has its regular period, and trouble has not, and in an avalanche of disasters it is impossible t

which generally terminate a period in existence. But many say that in real life situations, as they are called, never have any satisfactory termination, and that the story which is most true of men and women is that one which has neither beg

as if nobody could take a message without a mistake, as if the post and the telegraph had conspired together to send letters and telegrams to wrong addresses, and altogether all things, including the most sober and reliable institutions, seem to work backwards against results instead of for them. Those are bad t

aited till the evening before going back, if his sister had not been so absurdly nervous about the price of the hat, insisting that he should go at once and return the money. He had gone to his own room in a disturbed state of mind and had stayed there an hour, after which Miss Wimpole, judging that he must be suff

t is about a rather a

, and that she was certainly strong enough to keep her own counsel for a quarter of an hour if she made up her mind to do so. Besides, it must seem s

sort of quiet tenderness in his manner and tone, a little beyond what he usually showed, per

tle matter," he said, repeat

twilight, and he guessed tha

trouble," he

m, for she had forgotten that he

ed, but she said

?" he asked aft

do not

s seat at a little distance from her. He knew that she

lain my errand,"

ief to have so small a

nervously, for she felt how his presence tempted her to

ther an awkward little matter. You know Archie was with you t

with a change of expression

What is it?" Her voice w

for he saw that she was nervous. "Only, he went out by himself aft

milliner's shop?" interr

nt in to speak to them. Sylvia was trying on a hat, you know, and she liked it,

st now he was as deeply disturbed as Helen herself, and the

en's nerves were on edge, a

profound sorrow, and even penitence, as if it had been a

chie had just been talking to her strangely about Sylvia, and she had seen that he had fallen in love with his ol

ng at her heart, sat still in a rather dejected atti

ckened all the ever-growing pain for her son which was a part of her daily life. It knitted its st

and she bit the coarse velvet savagely, trying to be silent and tearless till he should go away. But he knew what she wa

ar Helen--

aking," she said

mal that has a deep wound but cannot die. The tears came slowly,

nd every agonized movement of it shot through him, but he could not say anything at first.

you," he said. "He sha

e sat up in her chair, turning her face to him

know?" s

to-day. But it is only a report

thdrew her hand, and steadied herself

d. "He has recovered.

had been condemned to

he manag

letter this

upon the broad marble sill, breathing the evening air from the lake, and Wimpole followed her. The electric lamps were lighted in the street

time. "But now--since you know--" She stopped, still hesitating, a

a question, not press

answered at last, "y

lay it gently upon her arm, but drew it back again. He had never

im from you,"

voice was steady again. "He will

aned on the window-sill beside

inking of writing to him,

That is what I am

could have found reasons for refusing ever to see Harmon again, but they lost their look of honour now that this man, who was everything to her, was standing at her elbow. Exaggerating her danger, she feared lest Wimpole sho

"I implore you not to think o

for she had known

wered, after a pause, "you shou

o be original, at any time, and just then the wor

ought a little of yourself. I do not mean only of your happiness, but of your sa

face deliberately tow

am afraid of that?

great good pride with it. Wimpole did not know

ad then, and he asks me to forgive him now. How can I refuse?

ut going back to him. Why

him that I forgive him, and m

ver be happy again, if you g

uestion. The only thing th

ght is more or less dep

le of that were true, then we could never know whether we were doing right or not, till we could judge the resu

" objected Wimpole. "It seems t

ause one knows that one risks being hurt! What sort

t, but some one else? One should think of others first.

sitated

ntly. "But no one else is

said Wimpole. "Do you think it will do Archie any

arted pe

he leaned over the window-sill again she clasped her hands togethe

errors for her unfortunate son, and the memory of all she had done to keep him out of his father's way in old days. He had been a mere boy, then, and it had been just possible, because his half-developed mind was n

Helen asked the questions almost piteously. "I should hav

ithout you?" The argume

mpole saw right in everything that could withhold her fr

nd, what will become of him?" she asked

rly taken care of,

veness?" Helen turned to

wisdom, at

changed. "You are pressing me to do what is wise, no

m?" asked the colo

used before

sked in her turn. "Don't you see

ry good woman, and by sheer force of goodness you could make

ot that be f

Harmon which you had on the day you married him. If forgiveness means anything, it means that one takes back the man who has hurt

that I had even thought I could. But then, if you put it in that way, it would be hard to forgive a

me time, I do not see how you, as a woman, are ever going to reconcile what you

said Helen

irst what you will do with Archie to keep him out of danger. When you have made up your mind about that,

his, and he had loved her all his life, as few men love, with an honesty and purity that were more than quixotic. What there was left, he could have borne for her sake, even to seeing her united again with Henry Harmon. But the thought of the risk she was running was more than he cou

ion, and he looked sideways at Helen, white, weary, bruised, a fast fading rose of yester

laimed, after a long silence.

had repented them. Helen drew herself up a

n my best friend. But you must not talk in that way. I cannot

his head

red, in a low voice. "I shoul

ever think of it a

le she used for sealing letters. It cast a faint light up to her sad face. Wimpole had sta

gravely. "I cannot bear to

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