PAGE 4
The Waking Of Helen
by
He took something from his pocket and bent his, head over it, pressing his lips to it repeatedly. And then, when he raised his face again, a dory was coming around the headland on his right, and Helen Fraser was in it.
Reeves was dizzy again with the shock of joy and thankfulness. He ran down over the little stretch of sand still uncovered by the tide and around to the rocks of the headlands against which the dory was already grating. He sprang forward impulsively and caught the girl’s cold hands in his as she dropped the oars and stood up.
“Helen, you have saved me! How can I ever thank you? I–“
He broke off abruptly, for she was looking up at him, breathlessly and voicelessly, with her whole soul in her eyes. He saw in them a revelation that amazed him; he dropped her hands and stepped back as if she had struck him in the face.
Helen did not notice the change in him. She clasped her hands together and her voice trembled.
“Oh, I was afraid I should be too late! When I came in from the field Aunt Hannah said you had not come back–and I knew it was tide time–and I felt somehow that it had caught you in the cave. I ran down over the marsh and took Joe Simmon’s dory. If I had not got here in time–“
She broke off shiveringly. Reeves stepped into the dory and took up the oars.
“The kelpy would have been sure of its victim then,” he said, trying to speak lightly. “It would have almost served me right for neglecting your warning. I was very careless. You must let me row back. I am afraid you have overtasked your strength trying to cheat the kelpy.”
Reeves rowed homeward in an absolute silence. Helen did not speak and he could not. When they reached the dory anchorage he helped her out.
“I think I’ll go out to the Point for a walk,” he said. “I want to steady my nerves. You must go right home and rest. Don’t be anxious–I won’t take any more chances with sea kelpies.”
Helen went away without a word, and Reeves walked slowly out to the Point. He was grieved beyond measure at the discovery he believed he had made. He had never dreamed of such a thing. He was not a vain man, and was utterly free from all tendency to flirtation. It had never occurred to him that the waking of the girl’s deep nature might be attended with disastrous consequences. He had honestly meant to help her, and what had he done?
He felt very uncomfortable; he could not conscientiously blame himself, but he saw that he had acted foolishly. And of course he must go away at once. And he must also tell her something she ought to know. He wished he had told her long ago.
The following afternoon was a perfect one. Reeves was sketching on the sandshore when Helen came. She sat down on a camp stool a little to one side and did not speak. After a few moments Reeves pushed away his paraphernalia impatiently.
“I don’t feel in a mood for work,” he said. “It is too dreamy a day–one ought to do nothing to be in keeping. Besides, I’m getting lazy now that my vacation is nearly over. I must go in a few days.”
He avoided looking at her, so he did not see the sudden pallor of her face.
“So soon?” she said in a voice expressive of no particular feeling.
“Yes. I ought not to have lingered so long. My world will be forgetting me and that will not do. It has been a very pleasant summer and I shall be sorry to leave Bay Beach.”
“But you will come back next summer?” asked Helen quickly. “You said you would.”
Reeves nerved himself for his very distasteful task.
“Perhaps,” he said, with an attempt at carelessness, “but if I do so, I shall not come alone. Somebody who is very dear to me will come with me–as my wife. I have never told you about her, Helen, but you and I are such good friends that I do not mind doing so now. I am engaged to a very sweet girl, and we expect to be married next spring.”