"
When he had gone, she took from under her pillow that letter which had
made her "faint like." It was brief, but conclusive:
"The matter of the future has seemed to settle itself--I think wisely;
and I most earnestly hope, happily, for you. The other proposition
would have meant certain unhappiness all round. Keep your boy; I am
sure you will find him a comfort. I am afraid you are a little too
excited to want to see me again immediately. But as soon as you decide
where you will go, let me know, and let me be of any service in
finding a house, etc. Then, when you are settled and feel equal to a
visit, I'll appear. I should certainly be very sorry to let any little
difference of opinion about this boy interfere with our friendship.
L.P."
Sitting up in bed, she wrote in lead-pencil, two lines;
"I will never see you again. I never want to hear your name again."
She did not even sign her name.
CHAPTER XXIX
To have David go away for the long-anticipated trip with Dr.
Lavendar, was a relief to Helena struggling up from a week of profound
prostration. Most of the time she had been in bed, only getting up to
sit with David at breakfast and supper, to take what comfort she might
in the little boy's joyous but friendly unconcern. He was full of
importance in the prospect of his journey; there was to be one night
on a railroad-car, which in itself was a serious experience; another
in an hotel; hotel! David glowed at the word.
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