"Thank you; and it is very gratifying to know that you had that confidence in me," said John, with evident emotion. "I feel, however, that I owe much to you for the measure of success I have attained, for you taught me something of what life and its individual responsibilities mean. But for your and H--Mrs. Ford's unparalleled kindness to me in my darkest hour, I shrink from the thought of what might have been the alternative."
Mrs. Everleigh shot a quick glance at him as he made the slip on Helen's name; then she gently observed, with her old winning smile:
"We must not forget the Power behind, my friend."
"No, dear lady, we must not; neither must we be unappreciative of His faithful messengers," John gravely returned.
Then he proceeded to briefly outline something of his life and work abroad, speaking in high praise of his teacher, Monsieur Jacques, and his kindly interest in him; and referred modestly to his own success, both in Paris and also during his present visit to America.
They spent a delightful hour together, and when he finally arose to go Mrs. Everleigh named an early date for him to come and dine _en famille_, "for," she told him, "I have not heard half enough even yet. I must see more of you while you are here."
When he was gone she sat a long time in deep thought, evidently reviewing the very interesting story John had related to her. At last she looked up with a slight start, a peculiar look sweeping over her face.
"Hunger--_ford_!" she said aloud, dwelling with emphasis on the last syllable of the name. "I wonder----"
What she wondered can only be surmised, but, knowing what she did of Helen's life--even though she had never been told the story in detail--it is safe to say that a suspicion of the relationship between John, Helen, and Dorothy had been aroused in her mind.
John did not see Helen again during the remainder of his stay in New York. Helen felt that it would be better for them both to avoid another interview, and she persistently kept herself in the background. But she went to see his pictures, as she had promised, after they were hung at the art club, choosing her opportunity one day when Dorothy and her father were out of town, and thus securing for herself plenty of time in which to examine his work without fear of a personal encounter, which would have been both awkward and painful for her.