 | CHAPTER XVII.
A YEAR'S WORK. A woman in armor |  |
17. CHAPTER XVII.
A YEAR'S WORK.
THE leaves of night and day were turned
over Little Boston and chaptered into
months; the months fulfilled the book
of the year, and every syllable in that book was
growth and progress to Helen Dimmock.
When Stanthorne's companionship came to
her she was emboldened to build up her home
again.
Rikka ventured back to the house under the
encouraging hand of her father, Gottleib Shuster,
and was reinstated. They took up their old
habitudes, Helen and Rikka.
The house was very quiet during the day,
excepting at those times when Rikka's German
sisterhood tramped into her domain and brawled
jovially with her in the native tongue.
But of evenings the house was usually bright,
for then Stanthorne dashed in from his work,
and he and Helen sat and talked and rested together.
They loved like two children. I suppose
each held the other in such reverence, each so
respected the immortality of the other, that
nothing could separate them.
His knightly name, Lancelot, she contracted
into Launt.
And because she would not listen to his proposition
to throw herself at once on his support,
and make him a husband and the head of a
family while he was yet a struggling journalist
without established reputation, he revenged
himself by tacking to her the name he wanted
to give her indeed. He called her his girl-wife.
It would have amused you to see these two
sitting and conferring together. Launt's seat
was always a great arm-chair, which nearly
swallowed up his majesty, and the girl-wife's
place was a footstool by his knee.
Sometimes they met at Helen's door about
dusk, both very tired, and hastened to throw
themselves into their accustomed places, and to
scold or comfort each other. When the Stokesbury-Joneses
proved unusually trying, or the
senior editor comported himself like a special
mule, there was great soothing and indignation
in the little parlor. But when the world behaved
well, and they had only themselves to find
fault with, they preached up various virtues to
each other. Such as economy, the importance
of which Helen impressed on Launt while helping
him to stow away choice French confectionery,
pound; or patience, the importance of which
Launt impressed on Helen while urging her to
marry him out of hand and trust to Providence
for good pen-luck in the future.
Rikka rolled and crashed in the dining-room
while making ready the evening meal, and the
thought of Nina and George would often pass
over. Helen like a wave. Then she always laid
her cheek against her lover's shoulder, and he
understood and held her from heart-break.
Often she persuaded him to have supper with
her, because she could not bear the empty chairs
at the table. Or he rushed into the house after
the gas was lighted, with new literary plans and
fistfuls of manuscript, which he must lay before
her. Her musical compositions were all tested
by his criticism.
They lived a beautiful life in each other. Not
every man could have earned such confidence,
such cherishing love. But Stanthorne had gotten
a strong, pure nature from his mother, so he
was never aught but a blessing, a precious gift
from God, to the woman he loved to call girl-wife.
They rode and walked together. Every
season as it passed was stripped of its special
delights by their united hands. The first breaking
buds in spring, vistas of arched trees, sunsets,
snow crystals, the snug home grate on
stormy evenings, new books, the best operas,
day—all the good things of God they shared like
a continual sacrament.
It is sorrowful to look about and see the sediment
in the love-happiness of many people.
They profane the ark of their covenant. They
treat it as a thing common, not as God among
them. What makes us throw dirt into our daily
bread?
From the day of George's departure Helen
had no news of him. She thought of him every
hour, and her hopes fainted over Nina's baby.
On her daily rounds she often met Myron D.
Chancery, and as often as her mind was not preoccupied
it struck her that Myron D. Chancery
regarded her with interest. Grateful to him for
his mediation in her favor when her trouble was
upon her, Helen always greeted him with earnest
friendship.
Myron D. Chancery did regard her with interest.
He minutely investigated all her relations.
He pumped her pumper, and held casual
conference with some of her “people” whom
he happened to employ. Not content with
grappling her present and estimating her accordingly,
he went back through her past, and
digged up all her ancestry to which fact or tradition
pointed. He received letters full of information
concerning this same Helen Dimmock,
and made one or two journeys to satisfy
himself and points presented by them.
The lawyer took pains to learn Stanthorne also,
until a hearty friendship sprang up from his endeavors.
Launt was boyish and open-hearted.
Myron D. Chancery learned much of Helen
through him. After their talks he sometimes
walked away from Launt smiling, but with something
like paternal solicitude in the smile as he
muttered to himself, “I wonder if this boy
knows the value of the woman he has won—in
any respect?”
So a year was leaved over and laid on the
shelf of Time. It held few happenings but
much inward growth. At the end of it Launt
and Helen stood together and witnessed the
closing scene of Helen's domestic drama, which
follows.
| CHAPTER XVII.
A YEAR'S WORK. A woman in armor | |