Dawn by Eleanor Porter (best finance books of all time TXT) 📕

of her breath. In the doorway down the hallstood Keith.

"Susan, I thought I heard—WAS Miss Stewart here?" he demandedexcitedly.

With only the briefest of hesitations and a half-despairing, half-relieved look into Susan's startled eyes, the young girl hurriedforward.

"Indeed I'm here," she cried gayly, giving a warm clasp to his eagerlyoutstretched hand "How do you do? Susan was just saying—."

But Susan was gone with upflung hands and a look that said "No, youdon't rake me into this thing, young lady!" as plainly as if she hadspoken the words themselves.

In the living-room a minute later, Keith began eager questioning.

"When did you come?"

"Yesterday."

"And you came to see me the very next day! Weren't you good? You knewhow I wanted to see you."

"Oh, but I didn't," she laughed a little embarrassedly. "You're athome now, and you have all your old friends, and—"

"But they're not you. There's not any one like you," cut in the youthfervently. "And now you're going to stay a long time, aren't you?"

"Y-yes, several weeks, probably."

"Good! And you'll come every day to see me?"

"W-well, as to that-"

"It's too much to ask, of course," broke off Keith contritely. "And,truly, I don't want to impose on you."

"No, no, it isn't that," protested the girl quickly. "It's only—Thereare so many—"

"But I told you there isn't anybody like you, Miss Stewart. Thereisn't any one here that UNDERSTANDS—like you. And it was you whofirst taught me to do—so many things." His voice faltered.

[Illustration: "YOU'VE HELPED MORE—THAN YOU'LL EVER KNOW"]

He paused, wet his lips, then plunged on hurriedly. "Miss Stewart, Idon't say this sort of thing very often. I never said it before—toanybody. But I want you to know that I understood and appreciated justwhat you were doing all those weeks for me out there at thesanatorium. And it was the WAY you did it, with never a word or a hintthat I was different. You did things, and you made me do things,without reminding me all the time that I was blind. I shall neverforget that first day when you told me dad would want to hear from me;and then, before I could say a word, you put that paper in my hands,and my fingers fell on those lines that I could feel. And how Iblessed you for not TELLING me those lines were there! Don't you see?Everybody here, that comes to see me, TELLS me—the lines are there."

"Yes, I—know." The girl's voice was low, a little breathless.

"And that's why I need you so much. If anybody in the whole world canmake me forget for a minute, you can. You will come?"

"Why, of course, I'll come, and be glad to. You know I will. And I'mso glad if I've helped—any!"

"You've helped more—than you'll ever know. But, come—look! I've gota dandy new game here." And Keith, very obviously to hide the shake inhis voice and the emotion in his face, turned gayly to a little standnear him and picked up a square cardboard box.

Half an hour later, Dorothy Parkman, passing through the hall on herway to the outer door, was waylaid by Susan.

"Sh-h! Don't speak here, but come with me," she whispered, leading theway through the diningroom. In the kitchen she stopped and turnedeagerly. "Well, did you tell him?" she demanded.

Miss Dorothy shook her head, mutely, despairingly.

"You mean he don't know yet that you're Dorothy Parkman?"

"I mean just that."

"But, child alive, he'll find out—he can't help finding out—now."

"I know it. But I just couldn't tell him—I COULDN'T, Susan. I triedto do it two or three times. Indeed, I did. But the words justwouldn't come. And now I don't know when I can tell him."

"But he was tickled to death to see you. He showed it, Miss Dorothy."

"I know." A soft pink suffused the young girl's face. "But it was'Miss Stewart' he was glad to see, not Dorothy Parkman. And, after thethings he said—" She stopped and looked back over her shoulder towardthe room she had just left.

"But, Miss Dorothy, don't you see? It'll be all right, now. You'veSHOWN him that you don't mind being with blind folks a mite. So now hewon't care a bit when he knows you are Dorothy Parkman."

But the girl shook her head again.

"Yes, I know. He might not mind that part, PERHAPS; but I know he'dmind the deceit all these long months, and it wouldn't be easy to—tomake him understand. He'd never forgive it—I know he wouldn't—tothink I'd taken advantage of his not being able to see."

"Nonsense! Of course he would."

"He wouldn't. You don't know. Just to-day he said something about—about some one who had tried to deceive him in a little thing, becausehe was blind; and I could see how bitter he was."

"But what ARE you goin' to do?"

"I don't know, Susan. It's harder than ever now," almost moaned thegirl.

"You're COMIN' AGAIN?"

"Yes, oh, yes. I shall come as long as he'll let me. I know he wantsme to. I know I HAVE helped a little. He spoke—beautifully about thatto-day. But, whether, after he finds out—" Her voice choked intosilence and she turned her head quite away.

"There, there, dear, don't you fret," Susan comforted her. "You jestgo home and think no more about it.

     When thinkin' won't mend it,

     Then thinkin' won't end it.

So what's the use? When you get ready, you jest come again; an' youkeep a-comin', too. It'll all work out right. You see if it don't."

"Thank you, Susan. Oh, I'll come as long as I can," sighed the girl,turning to go. "But I'm not so sure how it'll turn out," she finishedwith a wistful smile over her shoulder as she opened the door.

CHAPTER XXII

HOW COULD YOU, MAZIE?

As Miss Dorothy herself had said, it could not, of course, continue.She came once, and once again to see Keith; and in spite of herefforts to make her position clear to him, her secret still remainedher own. Then, on the third visit, the dreaded disclosure came,naturally, and in the simplest, most unexpected way; yet in a way thatwould most certainly have been the last choice of Miss Dorothy herselfcould