CHAPTER XII

For one blissful, ecstatic moment Helen lay tight in his embrace,

nestling against the breast of the one being she loved better than

anyone else in the world, responding with involuntary vibrations of her

own body to the gust of fiery passion that swept his. But only for a

moment. The next instant she had torn herself violently free, and was

gazing, wonderingly, fearfully, up into his face, trying to penetrate

those glasses which veiled, as it were, the windows of his soul. Why

she broke away so abruptly from his embrace she could not herself have

explained. Something within her, some instinct to which her reason was

unable to give a name, made her body revolt against the unusual ardor

of the caress. Strange! Never before had she felt so embarrassed at

Kenneth's demonstrations of affection.

"How are you, dear?" she murmured, when at last she could find words.

She had not yet heard the sound of his beloved voice, and when at last

he answered her it seemed to her ears only like an echo of its former

self, so exhausted and wearied was he by what he had gone through.

"Very tired, sweetheart," he replied huskily. "I shall need a long

rest."

She led the way into the house and up the stairs, where everything had

been so elaborately prepared for his welcome. In the bedroom she

pointed with pride to the real Valenciennes lace coverlet put on in his

honor, and showed him the dressing-gown and slippers so lovingly laid

out. He looked at everything, but made no comment. She half expected

a few words of praise, but none were forthcoming. While affectionately

demonstrative he was unusually reticent. She wondered what worry he

could have on his mind to make him act so strangely and suddenly

Keralio's words of warning came to her mind. Was there a side to his

life of which she knew nothing? Were his thoughts elsewhere, even

while he was with her? Quickly there came a look of dismay and

anxiety, which he was not slow to notice. Instantly on his guard, he

murmured in a low tone:

"Forgive me, dear, I can't talk now. I'm so tired I can hardly keep my

eyes open."

Instantly her apprehension was forgotten in her desire to make him

comfortable.

"That's right, dear. You must be dead with fatigue. You'll take a

nice nap and when you wake up it will be time for dinner. I've planned

a nice little party to celebrate your return--only a few intimates--Mr.

Parker is coming, and Wilbur Steell, and a young man named Dick

Reynolds, an acquaintance of Wilbur's. You won't mind such old

friends, will you?"

He shook his head.

"No, indeed. I'm very tired, now, but I'll be all right in a few

minutes."

"Of course you will," she smiled, as she removed the handsome lace

coverlet from the bed. "No one will disturb you. My darling hubbie

can sleep as sound as a top, and, when he wakes, we'll talk a terrible

lot, won't we?" Looking up roguishly, as she smoothed his pillow for

him, she added shyly: "There are two pillows here now. There has been

only one while you were away----"

For the first time he seemed to evince interest in what she was saying.

His eyes flashed behind the blue spectacles, and his hands trembled, as

he quickly made a step forward and put his arm round her waist.

"There'll always be two in the future, won't there?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes, of course there will," she laughed,

"To-night?" he insisted.

"Yes, of course," she said, her color heightening slightly under the

persistency of his gaze. What a foolish question! Changing the topic

she added, with a laugh: "Now, take your coat off, like a good boy, and

go to sleep. I'll go down and keep the house quiet. When it's time to

get up, I'll come back."

"Don't go yet," he murmured, looking at her ardently. Taking her hand

caressingly he tried to lead her to the sofa. "Sit down here. I won't

sleep yet. Let us talk. I have so much to say."

Firmly Helen withdrew from his embrace.

"No, no; I won't stay a moment," she said decisively. "Not now. You

must behave yourself. We'll talk all you want to to-night. But not

now. You are very tired. The sleep will do you good. Now be a good

boy--go to bed."

He tried to intercept her before she reached the door, but she was too

quick for him. She went out and was about to close the door behind her

when he called out:

"Please send François to me."

She nodded.

"Yes, dear, I will. Of course you need him. Why didn't I think of it

before?"

She closed the door and went downstairs. It was hard to believe that

he was back home. How long she had waited for this day, and, even now

it had come, the void did not seem filled. There still seemed

something wanting. What it was, she did not know, yet it was there.

In the dining-room she ran into Ray, who had her arms filled with

magnificent American beauty roses.

"Oh, how beautiful!" cried Helen enthusiastically. "Where did you get

those flowers?"

The young girl laughed. "They're a present from me and Wilbur--in

honor of Kenneth's arrival. Where is he?"

"Upstairs--he's going to lie down until dinner is ready. Poor

soul--he's almost dead with fatigue."

"Has he got the diamonds?"

Helen gasped. She hadn't thought of that. In all the excitement the

real object of her husband's trip to South Africa had quite escaped her

mind.

"I don't know," she said quickly. "I haven't asked him. We've hardly

exchanged a dozen words. He'll tell us later. Was nothing said about

them at the Customs? Didn't he declare them?"

"No--I thought it was strange. That's why I asked you if he had them.

Possibly he left them to be cut in Amsterdam."

Helen grew thoughtful.

"I don't know. He'll tell us later."

Ray filled the vases with the flowers, while Helen busied herself at

the buffet, getting out all the pretty silverware with which the dinner

table was to be decorated. The young girl hummed lightly as she

decorated the room with the fragrant blossoms.

"Isn't it lovely that Kenneth is back?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, indeed."

"I hardly knew him at first in those spectacles."

"I'm not surprised at that."

"If it hadn't been for that white patch of hair I don't think we could

have picked him out of the crowd. There was an awful crush there."

There was a pause, and then Helen asked:

"How do you think he looks?"

"About the same," replied the girl carelessly. "He doesn't seem in as

good spirits as when he went away. He is very quiet. He hardly spoke

a word to us on the way home. Possibly he has some business anxiety on

his mind."

"Did he ask about me?"

"Yes--you were his first question."

"Did you tell him about Dorothy?"

"That she was not so well? Yes."

"What did he say? Was he worried?"

"Not particularly. I think men are more sensible in those matters than

we women. He knows baby is well taken care of." Changing the subject,

the young girl went on: "I hope everybody will be jolly to-night. I've

made up my mind to have a good time."

Helen sighed.

"I'm feeling a little uneasy about Dorothy. I got a letter this

morning from Aunt Carrie, saying she was not feeling so well. The

doctor was going to see her to-day, and, if she got worse, they said

they'd telegraph."

Ray looked at her sister in consternation.

"What would you do then?"

"I would have to go at once to Philadelphia."

"And Kenneth just come home--oh, Helen!"

"I couldn't help it. Kenneth couldn't go. Somebody must go. The

child could not be left alone. Who should go better than its mother?"

Ray made a gesture of protest.

"Well, don't let's imagine the worst. Dorothy won't get worse.

To-morrow you'll get a reassuring letter, and your worries will be

over."

"I hope so," smiled Helen.

Leaving the task of sorting the knives and forks Ray came over to where

Helen was standing. The young girl pointed to all the vases filled

with the crimson roses.

"How do you like that?" she exclaimed.

"Beautiful!"

There was a brief silence, both women being preoccupied by their

thoughts, when Ray, in her usual vivacious, impulsive way, burst out:

"Sis, I have something to tell you."

Helen looked up quickly.

"Something to tell me--something good?"

"I'm so happy! I'm engaged at last."

"To Wilbur, of course?"

"Yes."

Helen gave an exclamation of joy.

"Oh, I'm so glad. When did it happen? Tell me all about it--quick."

"He proposed to-day, and I said yes. We're to be married in two

months."

The next moment the two women were in each other's arms.

"I'm so glad--so glad," murmured Helen. "I hope you'll both be very,

very happy."

"We certainly shall if we are like you and Kenneth. Wilbur says that

your example is the one thing that decided him to make the plunge."

Helen smiled.

"You'll have one advantage I don't enjoy. Your husband, being a

lawyer, won't be taking trips to South Africa all the time."

"Oh, I don't know," laughed the girl; "it's sometimes nice to lose

sight of each other for a time. The lovemaking is all the more furious

when your husband gets back."

"Yes--unless he happens to meet some other charmer on his travels."

"Oh, nonsense, Helen--men don't really have such adventures. That only

happens in novels."

"I hope so," murmured her sister.

"Oh, by the bye," exclaimed Ray, "who do you suppose we saw on the

dock?"

"Who?"

"That horrid creature--Signor Keralio."

Helen looked up in surprise.

"Keralio? What was he doing there? Did he speak to you?"

"No--he seemed to avoid us. Once I got lost for a moment in the crush,

and, as I turned, I thought I saw him talking earnestly to Kenneth and

François. Of course I must have been mistaken, for, when I finally

rejoined them, both denied having seen him!"

"Keralio!" murmured Helen. "How strange! That man seems to pursue us

like some evil genius. No matter where we go, he follows like a

shadow. Oh, I forgot all about François. Where is he?"

"Downstairs."

Helen touched a bell.

"Why do you need him?"

"Kenneth wants him. I forgot all about it. All his things need

putting away. The litter upstairs is simply terrible."

"There won't be much time for unpacking," objected Ray. "It's

half-past five already. We'll soon have to think of dressing for

dinner."

Suddenly the door opened and François appeared. He entered quietly,

stealthily, and, advancing to where his mistress was, stood in silence,

awaiting her orders.

"Your master wants you upstairs, François."

The man bowed.

"_Bien_, madame!"

"Tell Mr. Traynor not to keep you too long, because there's a lot of

work to be done downstairs before dinner."

"_Bien_, madame."

The man lingered in the room, arranging the chairs, and fussing about

the table, until he began to make Helen nervous. Peremptorily she said:

"You had better go, François; monsieur is waiting for you."

The valet bowed obsequiously, and left the room, shutting the door

carefully. Instead of proceeding immediately upstairs, he stopped for

a moment behind the closed door and listened intently. But, unable to

overhear the two women, who were conversing in an undertone, he hurried

upstairs toward his employer's bedroom. Arrived on the landing, he

went straight to the room, and, without stopping for the formality of

knocking, he turned the handle and went in.