SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 14568, 3 January 1911, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

HELEN THE SUPERFLUOUS.

BT JANET STOET.

"The 'superfluous! Impossible! Such women as you are the most necessary in tho world," he exclaimed.

Sho smiled her slight, enigmatic smile, looking down at the small hands lying at ease in her lap.

"I did not, give my own opinion, you know," sho reminded him; " I only said that at home I am often called 'Helen tho Superfluous.' " "But, in the name of common sens*, why?" "Ah!" They were: sitting together in a sunny, sheltered nook, below the rugged cliffs, with tho blue waters of the ocean tossing and shimmering before thorn, and tho softest azuro sky above them. Ho, reclining comfortably in a deck-ohair, looked very wan and languid; she, sitting on a broad rock at his foot, liko somo small, brilliant bird. " . %

That particular similo had not long since occurred to him, and seemed delightfully appropriate. Ho sighed to think tho dainty mite must snread her wings and fly away, as sK. had already told him, in the morning that was to follow this, too swiftly-gliding day. And sho was. deemed superfluous ~ Ah, preposterous thought! when he himself was one big longing for her dear, perpetual presence. To whom did sho belong? To boors, to Philistines, to those who, having eyes, yet could not see her raro loveliness; who, having ears, were insensible to tho melodious sweetness of her voice? His eves, falling to tho tiny hands in her lap, \ierceived that not only were they shapely and expressive, but that the marks of toil were upon them. Against those signs his heart rose protcstingly. Surely, surely, in this big world almost overfull of muscle and brawn, this wondrous combination of spirit, fire, and clow, in such a body as " other ladies well might bear as soul, might bo spared tho weariness of uncongenial labour! Her soft voice stole gently across these thoughts of his. . . "I am not .an egotist, really," it said "but to-day something impels me to talk to you about myself. My ego is in an imperative mood and will not be denied. I think it' is yonjsr eyes that havo occasioned such a mood. Turn them away—they look at me too kindly, too sympathetically." He smiled whimsically. " 'When you speak, Helen, I'd have you do it over. And why should you not talk to mo about yourself? I know of nothing else in. the world about which I should so liko to hear —everything." • ■ Again tho slight smilo played on her delicate lips, this time accompanied by a fleet glance from her very beautiful dark eyes. What answer his made is not translatable in words. It evidently satisfied its recipient. Her palo cheeks glowed exquisitely, and her sweet voico went softly on. , - ..'.'.'.lsn't it strango that I am going away to-morrow, and that wo shall probably never see each other again? Wo mot and spoke, and now must drift apart, like passing ships, hailing each other and going their different ways. And it seems incredible that wo have only known each other three weeks and a few days." * He pushed the big purple velvet cushions further under his head, so raising himself a little, and looked at her with vivid eyes, albeit he smiled and spoke lightly. "You mistake the time. .'We, you and I, have known each other always, known and waited to meet and greet,- and—" ho paused, tho hectic colour deepening in his thin cheeks, looking at her questioningly, wonderingly. . Her eyes were on tho tumbling waves. He laughed; softly, and brushed the bright curls off. his forehead with his long, nervous hand. ."Who knows,'' he queried, " that, we were not friends in other ages and climes? > Who knows certainly that your soul is not— say, Cleopatra's, and mine Antony's? Tell me, Helen, who knows certainly?" V ■'■<■■■; ' • ' -i- She shivered,'."and seemed in a. moment, to lose the radianco of her beauty. _ " I knew someone once," she said, speaking in her gentle, intimate way, "whose nature helped mo to realise Antony's. Is the great Roman a hero of yours?" . ''Her dark eyes sought his gravely. His answer was prompt. . .j- ■■■■•■ :" "Ho was a great Roman, as you say, but I cannot say he is a hero of mine. What of Royal Egypt?"; ■ " Sho was a great'lover." "Your tone implies disapproval." "I prefer Octavia." • He supported his head on : his hand, and looked at her as sho sat on the rock. ;

She was extremely small, slight, and graceful. Her hair was honey-brown in colour, thick and wavy, her face- small .and pale, , with delicately-chiselled features. Her brow was wide, and evidenced a tireless -intellect beneath it. Her eyes were large, dark, and very lovely, her " mouth small and exquisitely tender. Her whole person seemed to radiate; a most mire and eager spirit of light and inquiry. It seemed to him that he saw in. her as he, had seen in no other, her soul, the Potter, at work, in forming her body with grace and loveliness, " outbreathing her spirit's harmonies." '-And her pen partially supported her, and in the intervals between wielding it she washed dishes and swept floors. So much ho knew, because in the first days of their acquaintance she had told him so, laughing about it in the pretty, mirthful way that played over the deeps of her nature. 'And just now sho had told him that in her own homo sho was termed superfluous. : ;; -' ,

And sho was returning to that homo of hers in the morning. At th© thought of that ho pushed and thumped one of his cushions so vigorously that, it fell on to the sand. Helen rose and, picking up the great purple pillow, shook it, then deftly, gently adjusted it under his head. _ Ho seized one ministering hand and held it close in both his own.

"Oh, horrible fate," said he, under his breath, "that I must lio here like a log while you go far from mo. Oil, Helen, the eternal Why torments me." Her other hand stole across , his fevered brow, soft and cool, strangely soothing. " Don't let it. Just onjoy th© beauty and sunshine around you, and remember always that over and about us, 'nearer than breathing, closer than hands and feet' is Something infinitely kind and wise. Let that reality comfort you. It does me." "But I want you— want you,'.dea;-. Oh, Helen, how can I let you go? God', whv am I such a useless hulk?"

*•'.; She leant nearer, her eyes beaming upon him like" a. mother's. . ,

- "I am so glad I have known > you.*'. I hesitated a long, time between , Rata Covo and here, but came to Sea View after all, and saw you. I shall nob forget you. When I return to work and the humdrum lifo I. live at homo I shall remember the days I have spent hero with you and bo glad." . "But you must leave me. Dear, if only I could snatch you away from tho lifo you lire in that miserable, eoul-stining village ! But I may not even ask you to come hero again, for though tho pater is th© kindest, most indulgent parent in the world, he's a terriblo stickler for his own way, and that way won't bring him here again, for he declares th© place is tho most miserable hole ho ever sawand where ho goes, you know, ho always lugs his poor cripple." " Mav I suggest that it might Iw better not to come again? I don't— you?— 'a dish warmed over at tho feast; of life.'"

"Just now I:am weary of everything in the world but you." "I don't like to leave you so dissatisfied. Shall I read to you?" "No; I couldn't boar it. Leave mo now."

"I shall ho gone before you are down in tho morning. Wo shall not see each otlior again—I am to spend- the evening with the Cheaters; you know. Wish mo good-bye kindly then." His tragic eye« held hers. She bent low. His arms drew her nearer. Their lips mot tremulously, passionately. So, wordlessly, they took leave of each other. Then she glided away to tho great, gaudy boardinghouse where sho had come to spend one of her rare holidays because of its nearness to the salubrious sea.

Early in tho morning she returned home.

Three years later, one sultry afternoon in midsummer, Helen her own small den, that sanctum sanctorum, vvhero so much had been felt, endured, accomplished, and enjoyed. . Just a, tiny place it was, containing only tho most necessary furniture, several bookfilled shelves, and a few pictures exquisite _ copy of Macwhirler's "Silver Birches," of Paul Mcyerheiin's "Harvest Time," and Botticelli's "Birth of Venus." A large window, facing west, commanded a pleasant view. - Oh the narrow mantelshelf wero somo photographs and a pair of tall vases, in which somo full-blown red and cream roses drooped, exhaling their rich odour. ■ At the oval table in tho middle of the room Helen herself was sitting, looking dreamily down at a book she hold. Its cover of' a palo, greyisfc-sroca-coiojui,

and the title of it, with the author nam©, was inscribed across it in running golden letters. And tho nam© was her ownHelen Llewellyn; for this book sho held was tho result of her long travail, this that finished piece of work over which sho had so long laboured. All she had written in it had wolled to her brain from her inmost heart. Somo lines, she know, ran red, for they had been written when her heart had been pierced and bled; others sho had written when, oven in this poor room, she had stood upon life's very heights, smitten with God's light. So, clasping the precious volume, her hands trembled. Still—still thoro wero none to understand her joy or even to greatly caro 'that tho book was written and published. When it had arrived a few weeks before her father had skimmed over some appreciative reviews of it, but, not being a reading man, had not troubled to see even that much of-tho book itself. .Her stepmother had not even looked at it, but was much pleased about tho largo sum of money its writer had received for it. As for her half-sisters, they had scanned it, pronounced it dry, and informed her that it would not be likely to "catch on." Various other comments of theirs upon it, though kindly meant, had cut across her sonsitivo mind liko so many tiny, stinging whips. .

But, after all, there-was exquisite joy for her in the mere holding close of this child of her brain. She would not read it again yet awhile. She did not wish to. It was enough to hold it and rejoice.

Sitting there, clasping her book, her mind ran back among those events and incidents that had chiefly formed and coloured her life. First, she remembered tho sudden death of her little, most beautiful mother, the extreme, dreary loneliness that had followed, then the coming of a new mother— oh, so terribly unlike her own had been— big, coarse, strident, with two bouncing daughters of her own. Later a three others, half-sisters to herself, had arrived. Thinking of all tho years that had followed their coming, Helen shuddered, then smiled drolly, remembering how, by them,,she, very shy and gentle, and withal extremely fastidious, had been driven within herself, how repressed, how overborne. Well, through all those years, liko a star, a goal had shone before her. Now, at" last, sho was on her way to its complete attainment., Sho kissed her book with lips that trembled. Another memory came. In a moment of time sho lived again through the ecstasy and misery of a first love and a disillusion regarding tho loved one, and smiled at her own verdant simplicity in those not so distant days. Ho who should win her love, sho had told herself then, not knowing how rare a thing she desired, must bo heavenly-minded. Reviewing, in the light of present knowledge, that particular young man whom her girlish imagination had highly exalted, a littlo gush of amused laughter rippled over her lips. And he had actually begged her to marry him. At that recollection tho laughter stayed abruptly. The unhappiness that had followed her firm refusal to do so had been intense; for ho was very wealthy, and her father and step-mother had teen extremely desirous that sho should wed him. She did not, blame them. Her father was a far from brilliant solictor, scarcely able to earn enough to supply the wants of his extortionate family, and his anger when tho gilded bird in her hand was tossed away to its native freedom was easy to understand. Still, she would certainly not care .to live again through the long months of estrangement and misery that had ensued. Her heart had boon seared then as with a hot iron.

Later had come some literary success, which had consoled her greatly. And at length her novel was written and accepted by a well-known firm of publishers. It had taken her a long time to write it. Circumstances had been against it being written at all, but had been conquered by an invincible spirit.

It had drained her strength, though. When she began to write it she felt young, alert, full of intense vitality; when it was finished sho was exhausted : and she could not recuperate. It seemed to her sometimes that tho mainspring of her life was injured; but that, she knew, was merely fancy. By and by she would recover and bo her old self once more. A few weeks in the open country, among tho wind-swept hills and green fields, would bring back hor lost strength. She felt almost sick with longing for woodlands and gurgling streams, for wide plains and wider seas. And in the morning she was going to find them. Oh, delightful thought

Another memory quickened her mind. She quivered, and clasped her tiny hands more tightly round her book. She wondered if the poor invalid she had known at Sea View over recovered his health. Even now her heart's most passionate pity for that generous soul penned in so frail a tenement almost hurt her by its intensity. Sho saw again his love-filled eyes \ and delicate, strained face.; Ah, sho had understood and cared! But then ho had not returned as -sho had done to the place where they had met and spent those few happy weeks. Well, sho understood that r \ also. It was better so. He had gone to England, instead, she knew, having nearly two years before seen his name in a passenger list, together with his father's and an aunt's.

Sitting thus, whiling tlio afternoon away with memories and dreams, she- had been vaguely aware of tho sudden ringing of the door-bell. Now a big head, crowned with an elaborate, suspiciously I golden coiffure, was craned round the door of her room, and a high, affected voice spoke to her as though slio were deaf.

"Helen, Helen," said tho voice, " a gentleman wishes to seo you. He's in the drawing-room now with mamma and Beatrice and Olive. Will you come?"

" Certainly, Maud, but why didn't you bring him here?" Maud smiled inimitably. "Really, you'requite selfish, you dusty little bookworm," she said. " He's real handsome—curly hair and shiny eyes— you'd have him. in hero talking about all tho old philosophers and frumps that ever lived, and not notice whether he'd got a hair on his head or a lash on his eyelids." Helen rose, smiling. " Oh, I don't think I'm quite so unobservant, Maud. Please go first; I'm shy of strangers and shall feci a, much less insignificant brig in the wako of such a fair tug as yourself.".Nothing loth, Maud preceded her to the drawing-room. Such a babel of voices met them at the door. Mamma and her daughters seemed to be vying with each other as to which could speak loudest and most. Then, amidst the shrill chorus, Helen's sensitive cars distinguished a musical masculine votco that instantaneously called the colour to her thin cheeks. She went forward quickly, holding out her hand, and speaking with unusual animation. "I am pleased to seo you. When did you return? Yes, I knew you were away. I saw your name on tho passenger list when you went." , Ho stood upright, as sho had never before seen him. His tense hand held hers, his "shiny" eyes beamed. "We—aunt and Ireturned a few weeks ago. You may not have heard of my father's death. Yes, very sudden, but he had suffered a great. deal t so that tho end came to him as a relief."

Helen looked about her uncertainly. Should sho ask v him info her own sittingroom? Would it offend her step-mother and sisters if sho did? Anyway, he had come to see hor, not them, and she could not ask him to como again, ljecaviso in the morning she was going away for an indefinitely long holiday. , , , "Will yon como to my own den?'* she asked, rather breathlessly, and, on his assenting, led tho way, turning back at the door to say they would bo in to tea. "Just fancy ejaculated Maud, apropos of sho scarcely knew what, when the door closed. "Tho sly little miss Meanwhile, Helen and Iter visitor entered her small room. She wheeled round for him the one easy-chair it contained, and herself sat down in that she had rison from a few minutes before. Sitting there, she looked pathetically fragile arid wan. Her beautiful dark eyes were a little sunken, her _ dainty features pinched, and her hands, lying on tho dark table-cloth, appeared almost transparent in their extreme delicacy.

"What havo you been doing to yourself?" ho asked sharply.

She smiled, understanding at onco. ".Working rather hard, but I shall get bettor quickly now. I'm off into the -very heart of the country to-morrow morning." "■Why not go to Boa View?" "I don't know. But toll mo about yourself. I am so surprised to see you bo much bettor. I understood— is—" Helen hesitated in some confusion.

"So did I," ho said importurbably; " but nowadays surgeons perform miracles, you know. However, it was a, risky pieco of work. Even Howells hesitated. Ho told mo I might just possibly live through it. I road in his eye the probability that I should die but as T. was bo utterly sick of lying useless I took the risk, and—well, hero I am. Don't tell mo you are sorry to see me." '

"I couldn't do thai. But how did you know where,l lived?"

" I remembered the name of the village, and it was quite easy to find out which house in it was your homo." These explanations over, words came with inexplicable* difficulty. . To break a long silence, she hold up tho groy-groen volume. "Have you scan it before?" sho asked, rather shyly. lie rose and took it from her.

" Yes, I came across one in a bookshop the other day, and read it as soon as I returned to my rooms. It is a splendid achievement. X congratulate yon ieartirj

"Thank you. I tried to put my best into it."

" "You succeeded. _ While I read it I could not help remembering tho writer had onco told mo she was accounted superfluous." "Did you rememberthat?" "I had never really forgotten it. Tho wonder of it was so great to mo." One hand was still lying on tho cloth. It looked like somo delicate white blossom. He put his over it gently, looking down at her sweet, flushed face.

"May I ask," ho said, "I do so want to know, if in this household you are still deemed superfluous, Helen? Forgive me, but don't you remember: I never called you by any other name. It is a very beautiful one. Helen means light, and one can never/ surely, have too much of light." Her delicate face was quivering, and she' drew her hand from his to veil it, but instead bowed her tired head upon it and wept silently. "Oh, I am so tired—so tired," sho said weakly after a while. "I don't, seem to care whether lam superfluous or notl am so desperately weary-." Instantly his arms encircled tho tiny, shaken creature. One hand caressed her cheek, his voice her ears.

"My darling, don't cry. Look up and tell mo you are glad lam here. Oh, Helen, I have dreamed of you and longed for you ever since that day we parted on tho beach at Sea View. I. thought'. of you when I gave myself into Howell's hands. Dearest, tell mo you are glad I am come to you." She raised her eyes to his. Through brimming tears they radiated light. "I am— am," she said. "Oh, I'm quite sure if you hadn't come life would havo been intolerably dreary. 1 could hardly havo endured to live on. But. nowoh, I am glad you aro hero at last!" And she drew nearer, -nutting up her tremulous mouth liko a child to lx; kissed.