Weeks went by and Morton became very anxious. He grew nervous and restless. As he walked the streets he would examine every young woman he passed with quick, furtive glances in the vain hope that one of them might be Helène.
He consulted with Mr. Tyler frequently and that wise man told him not to worry. The girl herself, he felt sure, would write to him. John clung desperately to this suggestion. He began calculating the time it would take a letter to get back to him from America should she have written him there. Judge Lowell had his instructions and would cable him immediately on its receipt. The thought calmed him greatly and he thanked Tyler. He would wait in Weimar until the end of February, by which time he reckoned a letter might arrive in Cleveland.
Tyler’s judgment was justified. On the twenty-seventh Morton received a cable from his lawyer informing him that a letter from Germany had been received and asking for instructions. He promptly cabled back to open the letter and wire him the whereabouts of the writer.
The answer came: “Party left for place not given. Intends to remain hidden for some time. Is well. Promises to write in good time. Copy mailed. My advice not to worry. Family all well.”
There was nothing to do now but to wait. His fears, it is true, were allayed, but how long would it he before he would hear from her again? And what should he do meanwhile? On referring his perplexity to Tyler, that sensible man suggested that he should take a trip around Germany and look up his old haunts. He decided to do this.
As there was now nothing which should keep McCormick in Weimar, he sent him home, there to await further orders. He himself went to Bonn, his Alma Mater, and from there to Munich, where he renewed his acquaintance with an assistant professor of philosophy, whom he found happily married. This last visit did him great good. The peaceful home of his old tutor, where he stayed a few days, acted beneficially on his nerves and gave him a taste of genuine happiness which lasted him for many days.
But his restlessness returned. He could not reconcile himself to patient waiting. His thoughts of Helène, who was never entirely out of his mind, were charged with anxiety about her welfare. She was so inexperienced, so young, so beautiful that he felt she would never be able to fight her way alone. He knew how cruel the world could be to one of her sensitive nature.