Unlucky: A Fragment of a Girl's Life

wind, during which the tender green leaves grew dark and shrivelled, whilst even the daffodils and primroses tha

atmosphere. Helen was no longer the only discordant element there. Mrs. Desmond, whose calm boast it had always hitherto been that she nev

e?" suggested Mrs. Desmond wit

ent's worries were very serious ones; "no doubt. Ladies will worry, you know. You want t

is luxurious house where there was such absolute certainty that he would be obeyed. There were other houses distant not f

see a poor woman who is suffering much in the same way as yourself. She keeps

but give, give nowadays. Why do these poor people have so many children? And,

early tumbled over Helen, who, on her way down-stairs

at is the matter with you? Has the

eturned Hel

y wh

down into the

, I'm c

r out of earshot of the waiting servant, "I have been watchin

't sent

hat she is ill herself. But all the same he is very bad. He was in the school

n the ho

ery red and fumbling in her pocket-"father gave me a new half-crown last evening. I

ld, and see your

ime to discover Colonel Desmond's whereabouts she had meekly submitted to Miss Walker's shar

ossible, he had said little of his own sensations at the time. His wife's growing irritability and her evident suffering had kept him silent later, and he was sitting alone in his smoking-room planning a flight to a warmer climate whenever he coul

you had gone long ago. Am I worse? Are you keeping anythi

g about yourself that I have to

husb

uptly. Mrs. Desmond was really frightened. She

send for a trained nurse. In the meanwhile, give me pen and ink and I

to calm herself, "tell me at once what

I met her on the stairs and s

el

been wrong. It had seemed sometimes to her lately in her distorted mind as though her hitherto tranquil existence were resolving itself into an ignoble struggle between this insignificant child and herself for Colonel Desmond's affection, a love that, as husband and father, she failed to understand could have been given to them both in full measure. Since the night when she had realized how

hat hers had failed to see. Were they b

ed itself in Mrs. Desmond's face as she waited un

e what it is that is the

-hand. He is in a high state of fever. Looks like rh

chi

en exposure

account for

. He is thoroughly out of health, I believe. O

a fortnight ago," said Mrs. Desmond slowly, whils

the doctor, taking up his hat and gloves; and adding a few dir

spring, came at last, but it brought no gladness to the anxious watchers in Bloomsbury S

f doing so was by the most absolute obedience. The last part of this message might have been enigmatical to Helen had she sat down to think it over. As a matter of fact she did not. She only realized that these days of sorrow and anxiety were to be lightened by no happiness of service rendered, that submission to the daily round of irksome lessons was the only token she could give of her longing desire to help her father. Helen did not submit to this at once. With passionate words of entreaty on her lips she went to seek her stepmother. Mrs. Desmond was resting; but something in her maid's manner warned Helen that entreaty would be useless. After this the girl had a hard battle with herself. First she determined to rebel, to force her way into her father's room and refuse to leave his side. She even remained for a few minutes outside his door, watching for an opportunity to enter. It opened and some one came out. Helen pressed forward, but the sound of a low moan arrested her step. That sound touched her generous heart and changed the current of her thoughts. Her father was ill and suffering, and to witness a scene betw

and when the young lady pushed away her plate of porridge untasted, spoke of chastisements which might not improbably befall her in the near future. To these remarks Helen paid but little heed, although she was conscious that Martha's sighs were r

ut her pupil's imperfectly-mastered tasks, but put the lesson-books down quickly with a sigh of relief. It was the day for French verbs, too. "J'ai, Tu as, Il-. How does it go?" thought Helen in despair. Was

Walker! let me go for one mo

r was actually holding her hand and trying to comfort her, and telling her th

muse her and to draw her from her sad thoughts. Helen tried to feel grateful, although not very successfully. In the first place, it was difficult to dissociate Miss Walker from perpetual fault-finding, and in t

, and then, secretly attributing her pupil's irresponsiveness and reserve to

r, what news

or shook

strength holds out twenty-four hours

alker. "How terrible for her if sh

s to speak, but feeling probably in no mood for conversation, h

e landing, all her senses on the alert to catch every sound. She heard Dr. Russell enter the sick-room and leave it. Surely he would not refuse her permission to creep in and take one look at that dear face. The doctor's footsteps died away, and silence followed. Again she thought how easy it would be t

rs. Desmond moving. Impulsive as ever, and forgetting that people when just aroused from sle

Mrs. Desmond, a

sion to her. As for Helen, the efforts she had made over herself during the past weeks, the sincere sorrow she had experienced for the pain that her waywardness had caused her father, had softened her whole nature. She no longer regarded Mrs. Desmond as an antagonist against whom she was justified in waging perpetual warfare, and she had told herself that, if her father was restored to her, her stepmother should have her loyal obedience. Thus determined, and relieved from the daily fret of Mrs. Desmond's constant rebukes, the bitterness had died out of Helen's heart; and now something in the elder woman's wo

r voice with difficulty, for not only had the sudden knocking really

sh I could help you!" bro

you come to

t exact

d you have chosen to break upon the rest I so sorely need, at a time, too, when-"

cried, as, running forward, she seized her stepmo

her, who was face to face with mortal sorrow and pain for the first time in her smooth easy life. One gentle hand-pressure, one caressing movement, and the chasm that divided these two might have been bridged over. But it was not to be. The remembrance of Helen's past waywardness, and of the terri

ose sullen tones that she had cultivated in old days, because she knew that they annoyed her

completely master of herself. "However, whether you did or not

the notion that she, her father's child, should be classed with "anybody" as th

d, for Mrs. Desmond could not endure any allusion t

It is all very well to profess so much affection for your fathe

for

that evening when, distressed as he was by your disgra

ssell s

es

if-

will need no words of mine, I should think, to point

still, her hands clasped, her face white and rigid, and her eyes unnaturally distended. She was trying to think; trying to take in the awful fact that it was her deed that had brought this illness upon her father. Was it true, or was she dreaming? she asked herself as all sorts of curious fancies, fancies quite di

r a brain half-paralysed by some sudden shock. To Helen the sensation was entirely a new one, and her voic

ks for me will y

lmost in spite of herself, at the girl's silence, and by the stra

turned away, and who did not even see Martha's indignant l

have news of your father in the morning,"

hen his marriage. Poor Helen! the enormity of her anger and resentment, of her whole behaviour, in fact, since that fatal day, appeared now to her in an even exaggerated light. And then that last crowning sin that had borne such bitter consequences. That Mrs. Desmond's statement had been exaggerated never once occurred to Helen. She fully believed that she, and she only, was answerable for her father's illness, that if he died she it was who would have killed him. Many things, unnoticed at the time, recurred to her now in confirmation of this belief; whisperings and averted looks amongst the servants, subtle inuendoes of Mar

y, worn out with her long vigil, her eyes closed, and she slept. Ten minutes later a light tap came at the door.

with trembling fingers she opened the door. One of the night nurses stood outside. He

r hand on the girl's arm. "Your father is better. He has slept f

de-such a changed father!-with her cheek pressed against his hand. On the other side stood Mrs. Desmond, bending over him. He opened his eyes, and they rested tenderly, lingeringly on Helen; then feebly taking his wife's hand he placed it in Helen's. After this,

lings with regard to her stepdaughter. Even here, by the sick-bed, Helen was first. Colonel Desmond's first conscious request had been to see his child. The scene did not last long. Mrs. Desmond quickly, almost impatiently, motioned to Helen to go, and Helen obeyed unhesitatingly. Henceforward she told herself, as in the glad morning light she knelt in prayer for her father, there must be no more disobedience. If this awful shadow might pass away, if the consequences of her sin might be averted, her whole life should be spent in trying to redeem her fault. Pledges we often make, how lightly! But our little Helen was made of sterner stuff. Wilful and wayward as she w