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 -i-AVJir/r. :;:.;.-. : ir ; , .".<; ^iv:* ;;;.;. ;.; . jlr 
 
 SINCLAIR 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 fl Uoiuaiur 
 
 By 
 
 UPTON SINCLAIR 
 
 CHARLES M. RELYEA 
 
 I dreamed that Soul might dare the pain, 
 
 Unlike the prince of old, 
 And wrest from heaven the fiery touch 
 
 That turns all things to gold. 
 
 gork anU 
 
 Funk & Wagnalls Company 
 1901 
 
Copyright, 1 901, by 
 UPTON SINCLAIR. 
 
 Registered at Stationers Hall, London, England, 
 
 [Printed in the United States of America.] 
 Published in October, J90J. 
 
WJ 
 
 TO 
 
 M. H. F. 
 
 IM 80MMEB SUCH BIN LIEBCIIEN DIB 
 
 IN GARTEN UND GEFILDl 
 DA BIND DIE TAGE LANG GENUrt, 
 
 DA BIND DIE NACHTE MILD. 
 
 IM WINTER MUSS DER 8U*8SE BUND 
 8CHON FEST GESCHLO88EN 8EIN, 
 
 SO DARFST NICHT LANGE STEHN IM 8CHNEJ 
 BEI KALTEM MONDENSCHELV. 
 
NOTE 
 
 In the course of this story, the author has had 
 occasion to refer to Beethoven s Sonata Appassionata 
 as containing a suggestion of the opening theme of the 
 Fifth Symphony. He has often seen this stated, and 
 believed that the statement was generally accepted as 
 true. Since writing, however, he has heard the opin 
 ion expressed, by a musician who is qualified to speak 
 as an authority, that the two themes have nothing to 
 do with each other. The author himself is not com 
 petent to have an opinion on the subject, but because 
 the statement as first made is closely bound up with 
 the story, he has allowed it to stand unaltered. 
 
 The two extracts from MacDowell s "Woodland 
 Sketches," on pages 214 and 291, are reprinted with 
 the kind permission of Professor MacDowell and of 
 Arthur P. Schmidt, publisher. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGB. 
 
 Helen, - - Frontispiece. 
 
 "May I join you?" asked Mr. Harrison, 118 
 
 Helen found herself leaning forward, - - 198 
 She saw that David was bending down, - 836 
 
PART I 
 
 the mer - ry month of May. 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "O Madchen, Madchen, 
 Wie lieb ich dich!" 
 
 IT was that time of year when all the world be 
 longs to poets, for their harvest of joy; when those 
 who seek the country not for beauty, but for cool 
 ness, have as yet thought nothing about it, and 
 when those who dwell in it all the time are too busy 
 planting for another harvest to have any thought 
 of poets; so that the latter, and the few others who 
 keep something in their hearts to chime with the 
 great spring-music, have the woods and waters all 
 for their own for two joyful months, from the time 
 that the first snowy bloodroot has blossomed, until 
 the wild rose has faded and nature has no more to 
 say. In those two months there are two weeks, the 
 ones that usher in thj May, that bear the prize of 
 all the year for glory; the commonest trees wear 
 green and silver then that would outshine a coro 
 nation robe, and if a man has any of that prodigal 
 ity of spirit which makes imagination, he may hear 
 the song of all the world. 
 
 It was on such a May morning in the midst of a 
 ii 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 great forest of pine trees, one of those forests whose 
 floors are moss-covered ruins that give to them the 
 solemnity of age and demand humility from those 
 who walk within their silences. There was not 
 much there to tell of the springtime, for the pines 
 are unsympathetic, but it seemed as if all the more 
 wealth had been flung about on the carpeting be 
 neath. Where the moss was not were flowing beds 
 of fern, and the ground was dotted with slender 
 harebells and the dusty, half-blossomed corydalis, 
 while from all the rocks the bright red lanterns of 
 the columbine were dangling. 
 
 Of the beauty so wonderfully squandered there 
 was but one witness, a young man who was walking 
 slowly along, stepping as it seemed where there 
 were no flowers; and who, whenever he stopped to 
 gaze at a group of them, left them unmolested in 
 their happiness. He was tall and slenderly built, 
 with a pale face shadowed by dark hair; he was 
 clad in black, and carried in one hand a half -open 
 book, which, however, he seemed to have forgotten. 
 
 A short distance ahead was a path, scarcely 
 marked except where the half-rotted trees were 
 trodden through. Down this the young man turned, 
 and a while later, as his ear was caught by the 
 sound of falling water, he quickened his steps a 
 trifle, until he came to a little streamlet which 
 flowed through the forest, taking for its bed the 
 fairest spot in that wonderland of beauty. It fled 
 from rock to rock covered with the brightest of 
 bright green moss and with tender fern that was 
 but half uncurled, and it flashed in the sunlit places 
 and tinkled from the deep black shadows, ever 
 
 12 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 racing faster as if to see what more the forest had 
 to show. The young man s look had been anxious 
 before, but he brightened in spite of himself in the 
 company of the streamlet. 
 
 Not far beyond was a place where a tiny rill 
 flowed down from the high rocks above, and where 
 the path broadened out considerably. It was a 
 darkly shadowed spot, and the little rill was gath 
 ered in a sunken barrel, which the genius of the 
 place had made haste to cover with the green uni 
 form worn by all else that was to be seen. Beside 
 the spring thus formed the young man seated him 
 self, and after glancing impatiently at his watch, 
 turned his gaze upon the beauty that was about 
 him. Upon the neighboring rocks the columbine 
 and harebell held high revel, but he did not notice 
 them so much as a new sight that flashed upon his 
 eye; for the pool where the two streamlets joined 
 was like a nest which the marsh-marigold had 
 taken for its home. The water was covered with its 
 bright green and yellow, and the young man gazed 
 at the blossoms with eager delight, until finally 
 he knelt and plucked a few of them, which he laid, 
 cool and gleaming, upon the seat by the spring. 
 
 The flowers did not hold his attention very long, 
 however; he rose up and turned away towards 
 where, a few steps beyond, the open country could 
 be seen between the tree trunks. Beyond the edge 
 of the woods was a field, through which the foot 
 path and the streamlet both ran, the former to join 
 a road leading to a little town which lay in the dis 
 tance. The landscape was beautiful in its morning 
 freshness, but it was not that which the young man 
 
 13 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 thought of; he had given but one glance before he 
 started back with a slight exclamation, his face 
 turning paler. He stepped into the concealment of 
 the thick bushes at one side, where he stood gazing 
 out, motionless except for a slight trembling. Down 
 the road he had seen a white-clad figure just coming 
 out of the village; it was too far away to be recog 
 nized, but it was a young girl, walking with a quick 
 and springing step, and he seemed to know who it 
 was. 
 
 She had not gone very far before she came to a 
 thick hedge which lined the roadside and hid her 
 from the other s view; he could not see her again 
 until she came to the place where the streamlet was 
 crossed by a bridge, and where the little path 
 turned off towards the forest. In the meantime he 
 stood waiting anxiously; for when she reached 
 there he would see her plainly for the first time, 
 and also know if she were coming to the spring. 
 She must have stopped to look at something, for the 
 other had almost started from his hiding place in 
 his eagerness when finally she swept past the 
 bushes. She turned down the path straight towards 
 him, and he clasped his hands together in delight 
 as he gazed at her. 
 
 And truly she was a very vision of the spring 
 time, as she passed down the meadows that were 
 gleaming with their first sprinkling of buttercups. 
 She was clad in a dress of snowy white, which the 
 wind swept before her as she walked; and it had 
 stolen one strand of her golden hair to toss about 
 and play with. She came with all the eagerness 
 and spring of the brooklet that danced beside her, 
 
 14 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her cheeks glowing with health and filled with the 
 laughter of the morning. Surely, of all the flowers 
 of the May-time there is none so fair as the maiden. 
 And the young man thought as he stood watching 
 her that in all the world there was no maiden so 
 fair as this. 
 
 She did not see him, for her eyes were lifted to a 
 little bobolink that had come flying down the wind. 
 One does not hear the bobolink at his best unless 
 one goes to hear him; for sheer glorified happiness 
 there is in all our land no bird like him at the hour 
 of sunrise, when he is drunk with the morning 
 breeze and the sight of the dew-filled roses. At 
 present a shower had just passed and the bobolink 
 may have thought that another dawn had come; 
 or perhaps he saw the maiden. At any rate, he 
 perched himself upon the topmost leaf of the maple 
 tree, still half-flying, as if scorning even that much 
 support; and there he sang his song. First he gave 
 his long prelude that one does not often hear a 
 few notes a score of times repeated, and growing 
 swift and loud, and more and more strenuous and 
 insistent; as sometimes the orchestra builds up its 
 climax, so that the listener holds his breath and 
 waits for something, he knows not what. Then he 
 paused a moment and turned his head to see if the 
 girl were watching, and filled his throat and poured 
 out his wonderful gushing music, with its watery 
 and bell-like tone that only the streamlet can echo, 
 from its secret places underneath the banks. Again 
 and again he gave it forth, the white patches on 
 his wings flashing in the sunlight and both himself 
 and his song one thrill of joy. 
 
 15 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 The girl s face was lit up with delight as she 
 tripped down the meadow path. A gust of wind 
 came up behind her, and bowed the grass and the 
 flowers before her and swung the bird upon the 
 tree; and so light was the girl s step that it seemed 
 to lift her and sweep her onward. As it grew 
 stronger she stretched out her arms to it and half 
 leaned upon it and flung her head back for the very 
 fullness of her happiness. The wind tossed her 
 skirts about her, and stole another tress of hair, 
 and swung the lily which she had plucked and 
 which she carried in her hand. It is only when one 
 has heard much music that he understands the 
 morning wind, and knows that it is a living thing 
 about which he can say such things as that; one 
 needs only to train his ear and he can hear its foot 
 steps upon the meadows, and hear it calling to him 
 from the tops of the trees. 
 
 The girl was the very spirit of the wind at that 
 moment, and she seemed to feel that some music 
 was needed. She glanced up again at the bobolink, 
 who had ceased his song; she nodded to him once 
 as if for a challenge, and then, still leaning back 
 upon the breeze, and keeping time with the flower 
 in her hand, she broke out into a happy song: 
 
 "I heard a streamlet gushing 
 From out its rocky bed, 
 Far down the valley rushing, 
 So fresh and clear it sped." 
 
 But then, as if even Schubert were not equal to 
 the fullness of her heart, or because the language 
 of joy has no words, she left the song unfinished 
 and swept on in a wild carol that rose and swelled 
 
 16 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 and made the forest echo. The bobolink listened 
 and then flew on to listen again, while still the girl 
 poured out her breathless music, a mad volley of 
 soaring melody; it seemed fairly to lift her from her 
 feet, and she was half dancing as she went. There 
 came another gust of wind and took her in its arms; 
 and the streamlet fled before her; and thus the 
 three, in one wild burst of happiness, swept into the 
 woodland together. 
 
 There in its shadows the girl stopped short, her 
 song cut in half by the sight of the old forest in 
 its majesty. One could not have imagined a greater 
 contrast than the darkness and silence which dwelt 
 beneath the vast canopy, and she gazed about her 
 in rapture, first at the trees and then at the royal 
 carpet of green, starred with its fields of flowers. 
 Her breast heaved, and she stretched out her arms 
 as if she would have clasped it all to her. 
 
 "Oh, it is so beautiful!" she cried aloud. "It is so 
 beautiful !" 
 
 In the meantime the young man, still unseen, had 
 been standing in the shadow of the bushes, drink 
 ing in the sight. The landscape and the figure and 
 the song had all faded from his thoughts, or rather 
 blended themselves as a halo about one thing, the 
 face of this girl. For it was one of those faces that 
 a man may see once in a lifetime and keep as a 
 haunting memory ever afterwards, as a vision of the 
 sweetness and glory of woman; at this moment it 
 was a face transfigured with rapture, and the man 
 who was gazing upon it w r as trembling, and scarcely 
 aware of where he was. 
 
 For fully a minute more the irl stood motionless, 
 
 2 17 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 gazing about at the forest; then she chanced to look 
 towards the spring, where she saw the flowers upon 
 the seat. 
 
 "Why, someone has left a nosegay!" she ex 
 claimed, as she started forward; but that seemed to 
 suggest another thought to her, and she looked 
 around. As she did so she caught sight of the 
 young man and sprang towards him. "Why, Ar 
 thur! You here!" she cried. 
 
 The other started forward as if he would have 
 clasped her in his arms; but then recollecting him 
 self he came forward very slowly, half lowering his 
 eyes before the girl s beauty. 
 
 "So you recollect me, Helen, do you?" he said, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "Recollect you?" was the answer. "Why, you 
 dear, foolish boy, of course I recollect you. But 
 how in the world do you come to be here?" 
 
 "I came here to see you, Helen." 
 
 "To see me? exclaimed she. "But pray how 
 
 " and then she stopped, and a look of delight 
 
 swept across her face. "You mean that you knew I 
 would come here the first thing?" 
 
 "I do indeed." 
 
 "Why, that was beautiful!" she exclaimed. "1 
 am so glad I did come." 
 
 The glance which she gave made his heart leap 
 up; for a moment or two they were silent, looking 
 at each other, and then suddenly another thought 
 struck the girl. "Arthur," she cried, "I forgot! Do 
 you mean to tell me that you have come all the way 
 from Hilltown?" 
 
 "Yes, Helen." 
 
 18 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "And just to see me?" 
 
 "Yes, Helen." 
 
 "And this morning?" 
 
 She received the same answer again. "It is twelve 
 miles," she exclaimed; "who ever heard of such a 
 thing? You must be tired to death." 
 
 She put out her hand, which he took tremblingly. 
 
 "Let us go sit down on the bench," she said, "and 
 then we can talk about things. I am perfectly de 
 lighted that you came," she added when she had 
 seated herself, with the marigolds and the lily in 
 her lap. "It will seem just like old times; just 
 think how long ago it was that I saw you last, 
 Arthur, three whole years! And do you know, 
 as I left the town I thought of you, and that I might 
 find you here." 
 
 The young man s face flushed with pleasure. 
 
 "But I d forgotten you since!" went on the girl, 
 eyeing him mischievously; "for oh, I was so happy, 
 coming down the old, old path, and seeing all the 
 old sights! Things haven t changed a bit, Arthur; 
 the woods look exactly the same, and the bridge 
 hasn t altered a mite since the days we used to sit 
 on the edge and let our feet hang in. Do you re 
 member that, Arthur?" 
 
 "Perfectly," was the answer. 
 
 "And that was over a dozen years ago! How old 
 are you now, Arthur, twenty -one no, twenty-two; 
 and I am just nineteen. To-day is my birthday, you 
 know!" 
 
 "I had not forgotten it, Helen." 
 
 "You came to welcome me! And so did every 
 thing else. Do you know, I don t think I d ever 
 
 19 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 been so happy in my life as I was just now. For I 
 thought the old trees greeted me, and the bridge, 
 and the stream! And Fm sure that was the same 
 bobolink! They don t have any bobolinks in Ger 
 many, and so that one was the first I have heard in 
 three years. You heard him, didn t you, Arthur? 
 
 "I did at first," said Arthur. 
 
 "And then you heard me, you wicked boy! You 
 heard me come in here singing and talking to my 
 self like a mad creature! I don t think I ever felt 
 so like singing before; they make hard work out of 
 singing and everything else in Germany, you know, 
 so I never sang out of business hours; but I be 
 lieve I could sing all day now, because I m so 
 happy." 
 
 "Go on," said the other, seriously; "I could 
 listen." 
 
 "No; I want to talk to you just now," said Helen. 
 "You should have kept yourself hidden and then 
 you d have heard all sorts of wonderful things that 
 you ll never have another chance to hear. For I 
 was just going to make a speech to the forest, and 
 I think I should have kissed each one of the flowers. 
 You might have put it all into a poem^ for oh, 
 father tells me you re going to be a great poet! 
 
 "I m going to try," said Arthur, blushing. 
 
 "Just think how romantic that would be!" the 
 girl laughed; "and I could write your memoir and 
 tell all I knew about you. Tell me about yourself, 
 Arthur J don t mean for the memoir, but because 
 I want to know the news." 
 
 "There isn t any, Helen, except that I finished 
 
 20 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 college last spring, as I wrote yon, and I m teaching 
 school at Hilltown." 
 
 "And you like it?" 
 
 "I hate it; but I have to keep alive, to try to be a 
 poet. And that is the news about myself." 
 
 "Except," added Helen, "that you walked twelve 
 miles this glorious Saturday morning to welcome 
 me home, which was beautiful. And of course 
 you ll stay over Sunday, now you re here; I can in- 
 vite you myself, you know, for I ve come home to 
 take the reins of government. You never saw such 
 a sight in your life as my poor father has made of 
 our house; he s got the parlor all full of those hor 
 rible theological works of his, just as if God had 
 never made anything beautiful! And since I ve 
 been away that dreadful Mrs. Dale has gotten com 
 plete charge of the church, and she s one of those 
 creatures that wouldn t allow you to burn a candle 
 in the organ loft; and father never was of any use 
 for quarreling about things." (Helen s father, the 
 Reverend Austin Davis, was the rector of the little 
 Episcopal church in the town of Oakdale just across 
 the fields.) "I only arrived last night," the girl 
 prattled on, venting her happiness in that way in 
 stead of singing; "but I hunted up two tallow 
 candles in the attic, and you shall see them in 
 church to-morrow. If there s any complaint about 
 the smell, I ll tell Mrs. Dale we ought to have in 
 cense, and she ll get so excited about that that I ll 
 carry the candles by default. I m going to institute 
 other reforms also, I m going to make the choir 
 sing in tune!" 
 
 "If you will only sing as you were singing just 
 
 21 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 now, nobody will hear the rest of the choir," vowed 
 the young man, who during her remarks had never 
 taken his eyes off the girl s radiant face. 
 
 Helen seemed not to notice it, for she had been 
 arranging the marigolds; now she was drying them 
 with her handkerchief before fastening them upon 
 her dress. 
 
 "You ought to learn to sing yourself," she said 
 while she bent her head down at that task. "Do 
 you care for music any more than you used to?" 
 
 "I think I shall care for it just as I did then," was 
 the answer, "whenever you sing it." 
 
 "Pooh! said Helen, looking up from her mari 
 golds; "the idea of a dumb poet anyway, a man who 
 cannot sing his own songs! Don t you know that 
 if you could sing and make yourself gloriously 
 happy as I was just now, and as I mean to be some 
 more, you could write poetry whenever you wish." 
 
 ".I can believe that," said Arthur. 
 
 "Then why haven t you ever learned? Our Eng 
 lish poets have all been ridiculous creatures about 
 music, any how; I don t believe there was one in 
 this century, except Browning, that really knew 
 anything about it, and all their groaning and pining 
 for inspiration was nothing in the world but a need 
 of some music; I was reading the Talace of Art 
 only the other day, and there was that lordly pleas 
 ure house with all its modern improvements, and 
 without a sound of music. Of course the poor soul 
 had to go back to the suffering world, if it were only 
 to hear a hand-organ again." 
 
 "That is certainly a novel theory," admitted the 
 
 22 
 
KING MTDAS 
 
 young poet. "I shall conic io you when I need 
 inspiration." 
 
 "Come and bring ine your songs," added the girl, 
 "and I will sing them to you. You can write me 
 a poem about that brook, for one thing. I was 
 thinking just as I came down the road that if I 
 were a poet I should have beautiful things to say 
 to that brook. Will you do it for me?" 
 
 "I have already tried to write one," said the 
 young man, hesitatingly. 
 
 "A song?" asked Helen. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh, good! And I shall make some music for it; 
 will you tell it to me?" 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Now, if you can remember it," said Helen. "Can 
 you?" 
 
 "If you wish it," said Arthur, simply; "I wrote it 
 two or three months ago, when the country was 
 different from now." 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket for some papers, and 
 then in a low tone he read these words to the girl: 
 
 AT MIDNIGHT 
 
 The burden of the winter 
 
 The year has borne too long. 
 And oh, my heart is weary 
 
 For a springtime song! 
 
 The moonbeams shrink unwelcomed 
 
 From the frozen lake ; 
 Of all the forest voices 
 
 There is but one u\vnk 
 
 23 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 I seek thee, happy streamlet 
 That murmurest on thy way, 
 
 As a child in troubled slumber 
 Still dreaming of its play; 
 
 I ask thee where in thy journey 
 Thou seeest so fair a sight, 
 
 That thou hast joy and singing 
 All through the winter night. 
 
 Helen was silent for a few moments, then she 
 said, "I think that is beautiful, Arthur; but it is not 
 what I want." 
 
 "Why not?" he asked. 
 
 "I should have liked it when you wrote it, but 
 now the spring has come, and we must be happy. 
 You have heard the springtime song." 
 
 "Yes," said Arthur, "and the streamlet has led 
 me to the beautiful sight." 
 
 "It is beautiful," said Helen, gazing about her 
 with that naive unconsciousness which "every wise 
 man s son doth know" is one thing he may never 
 trust in a woman. "It could not be more beauti 
 ful, she added, "and you must write me something 
 about it, instead of wandering around our pasture- 
 pond on winter nights till your imagination turns 
 it into a frozen lake." 
 
 The young poet put away his papers rather sud 
 denly at that, and Helen, after gazing at him for 
 a moment, and laughing to herself, sprang up from 
 the seat. 
 
 "Come!" she cried, "why are we sitting here, any 
 way, talking about all sorts of things, and forget 
 ting the springtime altogether? I haven t been 
 half as happy yet as I mean to be." 
 
 24 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 She seemed to have forgotten her friend s twelve 
 mile walk; but he had forgotten it too, just as he 
 soon forgot the rather wintry reception of his little 
 song. It was not possible for him to remain dull 
 very long in the presence of the girl s glowing 
 energy; for once upon her feet, Helen s dancing 
 mood seemed to come back to her, if indeed it had 
 ever more than half left her. The brooklet struck 
 up the measure again, and the wind shook the trees 
 far above them, to tell that it was still awake, and 
 the girl was the very spirit of the springtime once 
 more. 
 
 "Oh, Arthur," she said as she led him down the 
 path, "just think how happy I ought to be, to wel 
 come all the old things after so long, and to find 
 them all so beautiful; it is just as if the country 
 had put on its finest dress to give me greeting, and 
 I feel as if I were not half gay enough in return. 
 Just think what this springtime is, how all over 
 the country everything is growing and rejoicing; 
 that is what I want you to put into the poem for 
 me." 
 
 And so she led him on into the forest, carried on 
 by joy herself, and taking all things into her song. 
 She did not notice that the young man s forehead 
 was flushed, or that his hand was burning when she 
 took it in hers as they walked; if she noticed it, she 
 chose at any rate to pretend not to. She sang to him 
 about the forest and the flowers, and some more of 
 the merry song which she had sung before; then she 
 stopped to shake her head at a saucy adder s tongue 
 that thrust its yellow face up through the dead 
 leaves at her feet, and to ask that wisest-looking 
 
 25 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of all flowers what secrets it knew about the spring 
 time. Later on they came to a place where the 
 brook fled faster, sparkling brightly in the sunlight 
 over its shallow bed of pebbles; it was only her 
 runaway caroling that could keep pace with that, 
 and so her glee mounted higher, the young man at 
 her side half in a trance, watching her laughing 
 face and drinking in the sound of her voice. 
 
 How long that might have lasted there is no tell 
 ing, had it not been that the woods came to an end, 
 disclosing more open fields and a village beyond. 
 "We d better not go any farther/ said Helen, laugh 
 ing; "if any of the earth creatures should hear us 
 carrying on they would not know it was Trunken- 
 heit ohne Wein. " 
 
 She stretched out her hand to her companion, and 
 led him to a seat upon a fallen log nearby. "Poor 
 boy," she said, "I forgot that you were supposed to 
 be tired." 
 
 "It does not make any difference, was the reply; 
 "I hadn t thought of it." 
 
 "There s no need to walk farther," said Helen, 
 "for I ve seen all that I wish to see. How dear this 
 walk ought to be to us, Arthur!" 
 
 "I do not know about you, Helen," said the young 
 man, "but it has been dear to me indeed. I could 
 not tell you how many times I have walked over it, 
 all alone, since you left; and I used to think about 
 the many times I had walked it with you. You 
 haven t forgotten, Helen, have you?" 
 
 "No," said Helen. 
 
 "Not one?" 
 
 "Not one." 
 
 26 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 The young man was resting bis head upon his 
 hand and gazing steadily at the girl. 
 
 "Do you remember, Helen ?" He stopped; and 
 she turned with her bright clear eyes and gazed into 
 his. 
 
 "Remember what?" she asked. 
 
 "Do you remember the last time we took it, 
 Helen?" 
 
 She flushed a trifle, and half involuntarily turned 
 her glance away again. 
 
 "Do you remember?" he asked again, seeing that 
 she was silent. 
 
 "Yes, I remember," said the girl, her voice lower 
 "But .I d rather you did not ." She stopped 
 short. 
 
 "You wish to forget it, Helen?" asked Arthur. 
 
 He was trembling with anxiety, and his hands, 
 which were clasped about his knee, were twitching. 
 "Oh, Helen, how can you?" he went on, his voice 
 breaking. "Do you not remember the last night 
 that we sat there by the spring, and you were 
 going away, no one knew for how long and how 
 you told me that it was more than you could bear; 
 and the promise that you made me? Oh, Helen! 
 
 The girl gazed at him with a frightened look; he 
 had sunk down upon his knee before her, and he 
 caught her hand which lay upon the log at her side. 
 
 "Helen!" he cried, "you cannot mean to forget 
 that? For that promise has been the one joy of my 
 life, that for which I have labored so hard! My 
 one hope, Helen! I came to-day to claim it, to tell 
 you 
 
 And with a wild glance about her, the girl sprang 
 
 27 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 to her feet, snatching her hand away from his. 
 
 "Arthur!" she cried; "Arthur, you must not speak 
 to me so!" 
 
 "I must not, Helen?" 
 
 "No, no," she cried, trembling; "we were only 
 children, and we did not know the meaning of the 
 words we used. You must not talk to me that way, 
 Arthur." 
 
 "Helen!" he protested, helplessly. 
 
 "No, no, I will not allow it! 7 she cried more ve 
 hemently, stepping back as he started towards her, 
 and holding close to her the hand he had held. "I 
 had no idea there was such a thought in your 
 mind " 
 
 Helen stopped, breathlessly, 
 
 " or you would not have been so kind to me?" 
 
 the other added faintly. 
 
 "I thought of you as an old friend," said Helen. 
 "I was but a child when I went away. I wish you 
 still to be a friend, Arthur; but you must not act 
 in that way." 
 
 The young man glanced once at her, and when 
 he saw the stern look upon her face he buried his 
 head in his arms without a sound. 
 
 For fully a minute they remained thus, in silence; 
 then as Helen watched him, her chest ceased grad 
 ually to heave, and a gentler look returned to her 
 face. She came and sat down on the log again. 
 
 "Arthur," she said after another silence, "can we 
 not just be friends?" 
 
 The young man answered nothing, but he raised 
 his head and gazed at her; and she saw that there 
 were tears in his eyes, and a look of mute helpless- 
 
 28 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ness upon his face. She trembled slightly, and rose 
 to her feet again. 
 
 "Arthur," she said gravely, "this must not be; 
 we must not sit here any longer. I must go." 
 
 "Helen! exclaimed the other, springing up. 
 
 But he saw her brow knit again, and he stopped 
 short. The girl gaz?d about her, and the village in 
 the distance caught her eye. 
 
 "Listen," she said, with forced calmness; "I prom 
 ised father that I would go and see old Mrs. Wood 
 ward, who was asking for me. You may wait here, 
 if you like, and walk home with me, for I shall not 
 be gone very long. Will you do it?" 
 
 The other gazed at her for a moment or two; he 
 was trying to read the girl s heart, but he saw only 
 the quiet firmness of her features. 
 
 "Will you wait, Arthur?" she asked again. 
 
 And Arthur s head sank upon his breast. "Yes, 
 Helen," he said. When he lifted it again, the girl 
 was gone; she had disappeared in the thicket, and 
 he could hear her footsteps as she passed swiftly 
 down the hillside. 
 
 He went to the edge of the woods, where he could 
 see her a short distance below, hurrying down the 
 path with a step as light and free as ever. The 
 wind had met her at the forest s edge and joined 
 her once more, playing about her skirts and tossing 
 the lily again. As Arthur watched her, the old 
 music came back into his heart; his eyes sparkled, 
 and all his soul seemed to be dancing in time with 
 her light motion. Thus it went until she came to a 
 place where the path must hide her from his view. 
 The young man held his breath, and when she 
 
 29 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 turned a cry of joy escaped him; she saw him and 
 waved her hand to him gaily as she swept on out 
 of his sight. 
 
 For a moment afterwards he stood rooted to the 
 spot, then whirled about and laughed aloud. He 
 put his hand to his forehead, which was flushed and 
 hot, and he gazed about him, as if he were not sure 
 where he was. "Oh, she is so beautiful!" he cried, 
 his face a picture of rapture. "So beautiful!" 
 
 And he started through the forest as wildly as 
 any madman, now muttering to himself and now 
 laughing aloud and making the forest echo with 
 Helen s name. When he stopped again he was far 
 away from the path, in a desolate spot, but tho 
 he was staring around him, he saw no more than 
 before. Trembling had seized his limbs, and he sank 
 down upon the yellow forest leaves, hiding his face 
 in his hands and whispering, "Oh, if I should lose 
 her! If I should lose her!" As old Polonius has it, 
 truly it was "the very ecstasy of love." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 "A dancing shape, an image gay, 
 To haunt, to startle, and waylay." 
 
 THE town of Oakdale is at the present time a 
 flourishing place, inhabited principally by "subur 
 banites," for it lies not very far from New York; but 
 the Reverend Austin Davis, who was the spiritual 
 guardian of most of them, had come to Oakdale 
 some twenty and more years ago, when it was only 
 a little village, with a struggling church which it 
 was the task of the young clergyman to keep alive. 
 Perhaps the growth of the town had as much to 
 do with his success as his own efforts; but however 
 that might have been he had received his temporal 
 reward some ten years later, in the shape of a fine 
 stone church, with a little parsonage beside it. He 
 had lived there ever since, alone with his one child, 
 for just after coming to Oakdale he had married a 
 daughter of one of the wealthy families of the neigh 
 borhood, and been left a widower a year or two 
 later. 
 
 A more unromantic and thoroughly busy man 
 than Mr. Davis at the age of forty-five, when this 
 story begins, it would not have been easy to find; 
 but nevertheless people spoke of no less than two 
 romances that had been connected with his life. 
 One of them had been his early marriage, which had 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ereated a mild sensation, while the other had come 
 into his life even sooner, in fact on the very first 
 day of his arrival at Oakdale. 
 
 Mr. Davis could still bring back to his mind with 
 perfect clearness the first night he had spent in the 
 little wooden cottage which he had hired for his 
 residence; how while busily unpacking his trunk 
 and trying to bring the disordered place into shape, 
 he had opened the door in answer to a knock and 
 beheld a woman stagger in out of the storm. She 
 was a young girl, surely not yet out of her teens, 
 her pale and sunken face showing marks of refine 
 ment and of former beauty. She carried in her 
 arms a child of about a year s age, and she dropped 
 it upon the sofa and sank down beside it, half faint 
 ing from exhaustion. The young clergyman s anx 
 ious inquiries having succeeded in eliciting but in 
 coherent replies, he had left the room to procure 
 some nourishment for the exhausted woman; it 
 was upon his return that the discovery of the ro 
 mance alluded to was made, for the woman had 
 disappeared in the darkness and storm, and the 
 baby was still lying upon the sofa. 
 
 It was not altogether a pleasant romance, as is 
 probably the case with a good many romances in 
 reality. Mr. Davis was destined to retain for a long 
 time a vivid recollection of the first night which he 
 spent in alternately feeding that baby with a spoon, 
 and in walking the floor with it; and also to remem 
 ber the sly glances which his parishioners only half 
 hid from him when his unpleasant plight was made 
 known. 
 
 It happened that the poorhouse at Hilltown near 
 
 32 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 by, to which the infant would have gone if he had 
 left it to the care of the county, was at that time 
 being investigated," with all that the name implies 
 when referring to public matters; the clergy of the 
 neighborhood being active in pushing the charges, 
 Mr. Davis felt that at present it would look best for 
 him to provide for the child himself. As the investi 
 gation came to nothing, the inducement was made 
 a permanent one; perhaps also the memory of the 
 mother s wan face had something to do with the 
 matter. At any rate the young clergyman, tho 
 but scantily provided for himself, managed to spare 
 enough to engage a woman in the town to take care 
 of the young charge. Subsequently when Mr. Davis 
 wife died the woman became Helen s nurse, and so 
 it was that Arthur, as the baby boy had been christ 
 ened, became permanently adopted into the clergy 
 man s little family. 
 
 .It had not been possible to keep from Arthur the 
 secret of his parentage, and the fact that it was 
 known to all served to keep him aloof from the 
 other children of the town, and to drive him still 
 more to the confidence of Helen. One of the phrases 
 which Mr. Davis had caught from the mother s lips 
 had been that the boy was a "gentleman s son;" 
 and Helen was wont to solace him by that reminder. 
 Perhaps the phrase, constantly repeated, had much 
 to do with the proud sensitiveness and the resolute 
 independence which soon manifested itself in the 
 lad s character. He had scarcely passed the age 
 of twelve before, tho treated by Mr. Davis with 
 the love and kindness of a father, he astonished the 
 good man by declaring that he was old enough to 
 
 3 33 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 take care of himself; and tho Mr. Davis was 
 better situated financially by that time, nothing 
 that he could say could alter the boy s quiet deter 
 mination to leave school and be independent, a reso 
 lution in which he was seconded by Helen, a little 
 miss of some nine years. The two children had 
 talked it over for months, as it appeared, and con 
 cluded that it was best to sacrifice in the cause of 
 honor the privilege of going to school together, and 
 of spending the long holidays roaming about the 
 country. 
 
 So the lad had served with childish dignity, first 
 as an errand boy, and then as a store clerk, always 
 contributing his mite of "board" to Mr. Davis 
 household expenses; meanwhile, possibly because 
 he was really "a gentleman s son," and had in 
 herited a taste for study, he had made by himself 
 about as much progress as if he had been at school. 
 Some years later, to the delight of Helen and Mr. 
 Davis, he had carried off a prize scholarship above 
 the heads of the graduates of the Hilltown High 
 School, and still refusing all help, had gone away 
 to college, to support himself there while studying 
 by such work as he could find, knowing well that a 
 true gentleman s son is ashamed of nothing honest. 
 
 He spent his vacations at home, where he and 
 Helen studied together, or such rather had been 
 his hope; it was realized only for the first year. 
 
 Helen had an aunt upon her mother s side, a 
 woman of wealth and social position, who owned a 
 large country home near Oakdale, and who was by 
 no means inclined to view with the complacency 
 of Mr. Davis the idyllic friendship of the two young 
 
 34 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 people. Mrs. l\oberls, or "Aunt Polly" as she was 
 known to the family, had plans of her own concern 
 ing the future of the beauty which she saw unfold 
 ing itself at the Oakdale parsonage. She said noth 
 ing to Mr. Davis, for he, being busy with theological 
 works and charitable organizations, was not con 
 sidered a man from whom one might hope for 
 proper ideas about life. But with her own more 
 practical husband she had frequently discussed the 
 danger, and the possible methods of warding it off. 
 
 To send Helen to a boarding school would have 
 been of no use, for the vacations were the times of 
 danger; so it was that the trip abroad was finally 
 decided upon. Aunt Polly, having traveled herself, 
 had a wholesome regard for German culture, believ 
 ing that music and things of that sort were paying 
 investments. It chanced, also, that her own eldest 
 daughter, who was a year older than Helen, was 
 about through with all that American teachers had 
 to impart; and so after much argument with Mr. 
 Davis, it was finally arranged that she and Helen 
 should study in Germany together. Just when 
 poor Arthur was returning home with the sublime 
 title of junior, his dream of all things divine was 
 carried off by Aunt Polly, and after a summer spent 
 in "doing" Europe, was installed in a girl s school 
 in Leipzig. 
 
 And now, three years having passed, Helen has 
 left her cousin for another year of travel, and re 
 turned home in all the glory of her own springtime 
 and of Nature s; which brings us to where we left 
 her, hurrying away to pay a duty call in the little 
 settlement on the hillside. 
 
 35 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 The visit had not been entirely a subterfuge, for 
 Helen s father had mentioned to her that the elderlj 
 person whom she had named to Arthur was expect 
 ing to see her when she returned, and Helen had 
 been troubled by the thought that she would never 
 have any peace until she had paid that visit. It 
 was by no means an agreeable one, for old Mrs. 
 Woodward was exceedingly dull, and Helen felt 
 that she was called upon to make war upon dull 
 ness. However, it had occurred to her to get her 
 task out of the way at once, while she felt that she 
 ought to leave Arthur. 
 
 The visit proved to be quite as depressing as she 
 had expected, for it is sad to have to record that 
 Helen, however sensitive to the streamlet and the 
 flowers, had not the least sympathy in the world 
 for an old woman who had a very sharp chin, who 
 stared at one through two pairs of spectacles, and 
 whose conversation was about her own health and 
 the dampness of the springtime, besides the drear 
 iest gossip about Oakdale s least interesting people. 
 Perhaps it might have occurred to the girl that it 
 is very forlorn to have nothing else to talk about, 
 and that even old Mrs. Woodward might have liked 
 to hear about some of the things in the forest, or to 
 have been offered the lily and the marigold. Un 
 fortunately, however, Helen did not think about 
 any of that, but only moved restlessly about in her 
 chair and gazed around the ugly room. Finally 
 when she could stand it no more, she sprang up be 
 tween two of Mrs. Woodward s longest sentences 
 and remarked that it was very late and a long way 
 home, and that she would come again some time. 
 
 36 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Then at last when she was out in the open air, 
 she drew a deep breath and fled away to the woods, 
 wondering what could be God s reason for such 
 things. It was not until she was half way up the 
 hillside that she could feel that the wind, which 
 blew now upon her forehead, had quite swept away 
 the depression which had settled upon her. She 
 drank in the odors which blew from the woods, and 
 began singing to herself again, and looking out for 
 Arthur. 
 
 She was rather surprised not to see him at once, 
 and still more surprised when she came nearer and 
 raised her voice to call him; for she reached the 
 forest and came to the place where she had left him 
 without a reply having come. She shouted his 
 name again and again, until at last, not without 
 a half secret chagrin to have been so quickly for 
 gotten, she was obliged to set out for home alone. 
 
 "Perhaps he s gone on ahead," she thought, quick 
 ening her pace. 
 
 For a time she watched anxiously, expecting to 
 see his darkly clad figure; but she soon wearied of 
 continued failure, and because it was her birthday, 
 and because the brook was still at her side and the 
 beautiful forest still about her, she took to singing 
 again, and was quickly as happy and glorious as be 
 fore, ceasing her caroling and moderating her wood 
 land pace only when she neared the town. She 
 passed down the main street of Oakdale, not quite 
 without an exulting consciousness that her walk 
 had crowned her beauty and that no one whom she 
 saw was thinking about anything else; and so she 
 
 37 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 came to her home, to the dear old parsonage, with 
 its spreading ivy vines, and its two great elms. 
 
 When she had hurried up the steps and shut the 
 door behind her, Helen felt privileged again to be 
 just as merry as she chose, for she was even more 
 at home here than in the woods; it seemed as if 
 everything were stretching out its arms to her to 
 welcome her, and to invite her to carry out her de 
 clared purpose of taking the reins of government in 
 her own hands. 
 
 Upon one side of the hallway was a parlor, and on 
 the other side two rooms, which Mr. Davis had used 
 as a reception room and a study. The parlor had 
 never been opened, and Helen promised herself a 
 jolly time superintending the fixing up of that; on 
 the other side she had already taken possession of 
 the front room, symbolically at any rate, by having 
 her piano moved in and her music unpacked, and a 
 case emptied for the books she had brought from 
 Germany. To be sure, on the other side was still 
 a dreary wall of theological treatises in funereal 
 black, but Helen was not without hopes that con 
 tinued doses of cheerfulness might cure her father 
 of such incomprehensible habits, and obtain for her 
 the permission to move the books to the attic. 
 
 To start things in that direction the girl now 
 danced gaily into the study where her father was 
 in the act of writing "thirdly, brethren," for his 
 next day s sermon; and crying out merrily, 
 
 "Up, up my friend, and quit your books, 
 Or surely you ll grow double!" 
 
 she saluted her reverend father with the sweetest of 
 38 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 kisses, and then seated herself on the arm of his 
 chair and gravely took his pen out of his hand, and 
 closed his inkstand. She turned over the "thirdly, 
 brethren," without blotting it, and recited solemnly: 
 
 "One impulse from a vernal wood 
 May teach you more of man, 
 
 Of moral evil and of good, 
 Than all the sages can!" 
 
 And then she laughed the merriest of merry 
 laughs and added, "Daddy, dear, I am an impulse! 
 And I want you to spare some time for me." 
 
 "Yes, my love," said Mr. Davis, smiling upon her, 
 though groaning inwardly for his lost ideas. "You 
 are beautiful this morning, Helen. What have you 
 been doing?" 
 
 "I ve had a glorious walk," replied the girl, "and 
 all kinds of wonderful adventures; I ve had a dance 
 with the morning wind, and a race of a mile or two 
 with a brook, and I ve sung duets with all the 
 flowers, and here you are writing uninteresting 
 things!" 
 
 "It s my sermon, Helen," said Mr. Davis. 
 
 "I know it," said Helen, gravely. 
 
 "But it must be done for to-morrow," protested 
 the other. 
 
 "Half your congregation is going to be so excited 
 about two tallow candles that it won t know what 
 you preach about," answered the girl, swinging her 
 self on the arm of the chair; "and I m going to sing 
 for the other half, and so they won t care either. 
 And besides, Daddy, I ve got news to tell you; 
 you ve no idea what a good girl I ve been." 
 
 "How, my love?" 
 
 39 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I went to see Mrs. Woodward." 
 
 "You didn t!" 
 
 "Yes; and it was just to show you how dutiful 
 I m going to be. Daddy, I felt so sorry for the poor 
 old lady; it is so beautiful to know that one is doing 
 good and bringing happiness into other people s 
 lives! I think I ll go and see her often, and carry 
 her something nice if you ll let me." 
 
 Helen said all that as gravely as a judge; but Mr. 
 Davis was agreeing so delightedly that she feared 
 she was carrying the joke too far. She changed 
 the subject quickly. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy!" she cried, ".I forgot to tell you I 
 met a genius to-day!" 
 
 "A genius? inquired the other. 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, "and I ve been walking around 
 with him all morning out in the woods! Did you 
 never hear that every place like that has a genius?" 
 
 "Yes," assented Mr. Davis, "but I don t under 
 stand your joke." 
 
 "This was the genius of Hilltown High School," 
 laughed Helen. 
 
 "Oh, Arthur!" 
 
 "Yes; will you believe it, the dear boy had walked 
 all the way from there to see me; and he waited 
 out by the old seat at the spring!" 
 
 "But where is he now?" 
 
 "I don t know," said Helen. "It s very queer; 1 
 left him to go see Mrs. Woodward. He didn t go 
 with me," she added, "I don t believe he felt in 
 clined to charity." 
 
 "That is not like Arthur," said the other. 
 
 "I m going to take him in hand, as becomes a 
 
 40 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 clergyman s daughter," said Helen demurely; "I m 
 going to be a model daughter, Daddy just you 
 wait and see! I ll visit all your parishioners lawn- 
 parties and five o clock teas for you, and I ll play 
 Handel s Largo and Siegfried s Funeral March 
 whenever you want to write sermons. Won t you 
 like that?" 
 
 "Perhaps," said Mr. Davis, dubiously. 
 
 "Only I know you ll make blots when I come to 
 the cymbals, said Helen; and she doubled up her 
 fists and hummed the passage, and gave so realistic 
 an imitation of the cymbal-clashes in the great 
 dirge that it almost upset the chair. Afterwards 
 she laughed one of her merriest laughs and kissed 
 her father on the forehead. 
 
 "I heard it at Baireuth," she said, "and it was just 
 fine! It made your flesh creep all over you. And 
 oh, Daddy, I brought home a souvenir of Wagner s 
 grave!" 
 
 "Did you?" asked Mr. Davis, who knew very little 
 about Wagner. 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, "just a pebble I picked up near 
 it; and you ought to have seen the custom-house 
 officer at the dock yesterday when he was going 
 through my trunks. What s this, Miss? he asked; 
 I guess he thought it was a diamond in the rough. 
 Oh, that s from Wagner s grave, I said. And 
 what do you think the wretch did?" 
 
 "I m sure I don t know, my love." 
 
 "He threw it back, saying it wasn t worth any 
 thing; I think he must have been a Brahmsite." 
 
 "It took the longest time going through all my 
 treasures," Helen prattled on, after laughing at her 
 
 41 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 own joke; "you know Aunt Polly let us have every 
 thing we wanted, bless her heart!" 
 
 "I m afraid Aunt Polly must have spoiled you," 
 said the other. 
 
 "She has," laughed Helen; "I really think she 
 must mean to make me marry a rich husband, or 
 else she d never have left me at that great rich 
 school; Lucy and I were the star-boarders you 
 know, and we just had everybody to spoil us. How 
 in the world could you ever manage to spare so 
 much money, Daddy?" 
 
 "Oh, it was not so much, said Mr. Davis; "things 
 are cheaper abroad." (As a matter of fact, the 
 grimly resolute Aunt Polly had paid two-thirds of 
 her niece s expenses secretly, besides distributing 
 pocket money with lavish generosity.) 
 
 "And you should see the wonderful dresses I ve 
 brought from Paris," Helen went on. "Oh, Daddy, 
 I tell you I shall be glorious! Aunt Polly s going 
 to invite a lot of people at her house next week to 
 meet me, and I m going to wear the reddest of red, 
 red dresses, and just shine like a lighthouse!" 
 
 "I m afraid," said the clergyman, surveying her 
 with more pride than was perhaps orthodox, "I m 
 afraid you ll find it hard to be satisfied in this poor 
 little home of ours. 
 
 "Oh, that s all right," said Helen; "I ll soon get 
 used to it; and besides, I ve got plenty of things 
 to fix it up with if you ll only get those dreadful 
 theological works out of the front room! Daddy 
 dear, you can t imagine how hard it is to bring 
 the Valkyries and Niebelungs into a theological 
 library." 
 
 42 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I ll see what I can do, my love," said Mr. Davis. 
 
 He was silent for a few moments, perhaps won 
 dering vaguely whether it was well that this com 
 manding young lady should have everything in the 
 world she desired; Helen, who had her share of 
 penetration, probably divined the thought, for she 
 made haste to change the subject. 
 
 "By the way," she laughed, "we got so interested 
 in our chattering that we forgot all about Arthur." 
 
 "Sure enough," exclaimed the other. "Pray 
 where can he have gone?" 
 
 "I don t know," Helen said; "it s strange. But 
 poets are such queer creatures!" 
 
 "Arthur is a very splendid creature," said Mr. 
 Davis. "You have no idea, Helen, how hard he has 
 labored since you have been away. He carried off 
 all the honors at college, and they say he has writ 
 ten some good poetry. I don t know much about 
 that, but the people who know tell me so." 
 
 "It would be gloriously romantic to know a great 
 poet," said Helen, "and perhaps have him write 
 poetry about you, Helen, thy beauty is to me/ 
 and Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss, 
 and all sorts of things like that! He s coming to 
 live with us this summer as usual, isn t he, Daddy?" 
 
 "I don t know," said the other; "I presume he 
 will. But where can he have gone to-day?" 
 
 "He acted very queerly," said the girl; and then 
 suddenly a delighted smile lit up her face. "Oh, 
 Daddy," she added, "do you know, I think Arthur 
 is in love!" 
 
 "In love!" gasped Mr. Davis. 
 "Yes, in love!" 
 
 43 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Pray, with whom?" 
 
 "I m sure I can t imagine," said Helen gravely; 
 "but he seemed so abstracted, and he seemed to 
 have something to tell me. And then he ran 
 away !" 
 
 "That is very strange indeed," remarked the 
 other. "I shall have to speak to him about it." 
 
 "If he doesn t come back soon, I ll go to look for 
 him," said the girl; "I m not going to let the water 
 nixies run off with my Arthur; there are such 
 things in that stream, because the song I was sing 
 ing about it says so." And then she chanted as 
 merrily as ever: 
 
 "Why speak I of a murmur? 
 
 No murmur can it be; 
 The Nixies they are singing 
 Neath the wave their melody!" 
 
 "I will tell you what," said Mr. Davis, rising from 
 his chair as he realized that the sermon had entirely 
 vanished for the present. "You may go part of the 
 way with me, and we ll stop in to see the Vails." 
 
 "The Vails!" gasped Helen. (Mr. Vail was the 
 village dairyman, whose farm lay on the outskirts 
 of the town; the village dairyman s family was not 
 one that Helen cared to visit.) 
 
 "My love," said Mr. Davis, "poor Mrs. Vail has 
 been very ill, and she has three little children, you 
 know. You told me that you liked to bring joy 
 wherever you could." 
 
 "Yes, but, Daddy," protested Helen, "those chil 
 dren are dirty! Ugh! I saw them as I came by." 
 
 "My love," answered the other, "they are God s 
 
 44 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 children none the less; and we cannot always help 
 such things." 
 
 "But we can, Daddy; there is plenty of water in 
 the world." 
 
 "Yes, of course; but when the mother is ill, and 
 the father in trouble! For poor Mr. Vail has had 
 no end of misfortune; he has no resource but the 
 little dairy, and three of his cows have been ill this 
 spring." 
 
 And Helen s incorrigible mirth lighted up her 
 face again. "Oh!" she cried. "Is Mo* it! I saw him 
 struggling away at the pump as I came by; but I 
 had no idea it was anything so serious!" 
 
 Mr. Davis looked grieved; Helen, when her first 
 burst of glee had passed, noticed it and changed her 
 mood. She put her arms around her father s neck 
 and pressed her cheek against his. 
 
 "Daddy, dear," she said coaxingly, "haven t I 
 done charity enough for one day? You will surfeit 
 me at the start, and then I ll be just as little fond 
 of it as I was before. When I must let dirty chil 
 dren climb all over me, I can dress for the occasion." 
 
 "My dear," pleaded Mr. Davis, "Godliness is 
 placed before Cleanliness." 
 
 "Yes," admitted Helen, "and of course it is right 
 for you to inculcate the greater virtue; but I m only 
 a girl, and you mustn t expect sublimity from me. 
 You don t want to turn me into a president of sew 
 ing societies, like that dreadful Mrs. Dale!" 
 
 "Helen," protested the other, helplessly, "I wish 
 you would not always refer to Mrs. Dale with that 
 adjective; she is the best helper I have." 
 
 "Yes, Daddy," said Helen, with the utmost sol- 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 emnity; "when I have a dreadful eagle nose like 
 hers, perhaps I can preside over meetings too. But 
 I can t now." 
 
 "I do not want you to, my love; but " 
 
 "And if I have to cling by the weaker virtue of 
 cleanliness just for a little while, Daddy, you must 
 not mind. I ll visit all your clean parishioners for 
 you, parishioners like Aunt Polly!" 
 
 And before Mr. Davis could make another remark, 
 the girl had skipped into the other room to the 
 piano; as her father went slowly out the door, the 
 echoes of the old house were laughing with the 
 happy melody of Purcell s 
 
 m 
 
 Nymphs and shepherds, come a - way, come a - way, 
 
 m 
 
 Nymphs and shepherds, come a - way, come a - way, Come, 
 
 
 come, come, come a - way ! 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 "For you alone I strive to sing, 
 Oh, tell me how to woo!" 
 
 t 
 
 WHEN Helen was left alone, she seated herself 
 before her old music stand which had been brought 
 down to welcome her, and proceeded to glance over 
 and arrange the pieces she had learned and loved in 
 her young girlhood. Most of them made her smile, 
 and when she reflected upon how difficult she used 
 to think them, she realized that now that it was 
 over she was glad for the German regime. Helen 
 had accounted herself an accomplished pianist 
 when she went away, but she had met with new 
 standards and learned to think humbly of herself 
 in the great home of music. She possessed a genuine 
 fondness for the art, however, and had devoted 
 most of her three years to it, so that she came home 
 rejoicing in the possession of a technic that was 
 quite a mastership compared with any that she was 
 likely to meet. 
 
 Helen s thoughts did not dwell upon that very 
 long at present, however; she found herself think 
 ing again about Arthur, and the unexpected ending 
 of her walk with him. 
 
 "I had no idea he felt that way toward me," 
 she mused, resting her chin in her hand; "what in 
 the world am I going to do? Men are certainly 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 most inconvenient creatures; I thought I was doing 
 everything in the world to make him happy!" 
 
 Helen turned to the music once more, but the 
 memory of the figure she had left sunken helplessly 
 upon the forest seat stayed in her mind. "I do 
 wonder if that can be why he did not wait for me," 
 she thought, shuddering, "if he was too wretched 
 to see me again; what can I do?" She got up and 
 began walking restlessly up and down the room for 
 a few minutes. 
 
 "Perhaps I ought to go and look for him," she 
 mused; "it was an hour or two ago that I left him 
 there;" and Helen, after thinking the matter over, 
 had half turned to leave, when she heard a step 
 outside and saw the door open quickly. Even be 
 fore she saw him she knew who it was, for only 
 Arthur would have entered without ringing the 
 bell. After having pictured him overcome by de 
 spair, it was rather a blow to her pride to see him, 
 for he entered flushed, and seemingly elated. 
 
 "Well, sir, you ve treated me nicely!" she ex 
 claimed, showing her vexation in spite of herself. 
 
 "You will forgive me," said Arthur, smiling. 
 
 "Don t be too sure of it," Helen said; "I looked 
 for you everywhere, and I am quite angry." 
 
 "I was obeying your high command," the other 
 replied, still smiling. 
 
 "My command? I told you to wait for me. 
 
 "You told me something else," laughed Arthur. 
 "You spent all the morning instructing me for it, 
 you know." 
 
 "Oh!" said Helen. It was a broad and very much 
 prolonged "Oh," for a sudden light was dawning 
 
 48 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 upon the girl; as it canie her frown gave place to a 
 look of delight. 
 
 "You have been writing ine a poem!" she cried, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Yes," said Arthur. 
 
 "Oh, you dear boy!" Helen laughed. "Then I do 
 forgive you; but you ought to have told me, for I 
 had to walk home all alone, and I ve been worrying 
 about you. I never once thought of the poem." 
 
 "The muses call without warning," laughed Ar 
 thur, "and one has to obey them, you know." 
 
 "Oh, oh!" exclaimed the other. "And so you ve 
 been wandering around the woods all this time, 
 making verses! And you ve been waving your arms 
 and talking to yourself, and doing all sorts of crazy 
 things, I know!" Then as she saw Arthur flush, she 
 went on: "I was sure of it! And you ran away so 
 that I wouldn t see you! Oh, I wish I d known; 
 I d have hunted you up and never come home until 
 I d found you." 
 
 As was usual with Helen, her momentary vex 
 ation had gone like April rain, and all her serious 
 ness had vanished with it. She forgot all about the 
 last scene in the woods, and Arthur was once more 
 the friend of her girlhood, whom she might take 
 by the hand when she chose, and with whom she 
 might be as free and happy as when she was alone 
 with the flowers and the wind. It seemed as if 
 Arthur too had vented all his pent up emotion, and 
 returned to his natural cheerful self. 
 
 "Tell me," she cried, "did you put in all the things 
 I told vou about?" 
 
 49 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I put all I could," said Arthur. "That is a great 
 deal to ask." 
 
 "I only want it to be full of life," laughed Helen. 
 "That s all I care about; the man who wants to 
 write springtime poetry for me must be wide 
 awake!" 
 
 "Shall I read it to you?" asked Arthur, hesitat 
 ingly. 
 
 "Yes, of course," said Helen. "And read it as if 
 you meant it; if I like it I ll tell you so." 
 
 "I wrote it for nothing but to please you," was 
 the reply, and Arthur took a much bescrawled piece 
 of paper from his pocket; the girl seated herself 
 upon the piano stool again and gazed up at him as 
 he rested his elbow upon the top of the piano and 
 read his lines. There could not have been a situ 
 ation in which the young poet would have read 
 them with more complete happiness, and so it was 
 a pleasure to watch him. And Helen s eyes kindled, 
 and her cheeks flushed brightly as she listened, for 
 she found that the verses had taken their imagery 
 from her very lips. 
 
 In the May-time s golden glory 
 Ere the quivering sun was high, 
 
 I heard the Wind of Morning 
 
 Through the laughing meadows fly; 
 
 In his passion-song was throbbing 
 
 All the madness of the May, 
 And he whispered: Thou hast labored; 
 
 Thou art weary ; come away ! 
 
 Thou shalt drink a fiery potion 
 
 For thy prisoned spirit s pain; 
 Thou shalt taste the ancient rapture 
 
 That thy soul has sought in vain. 
 
 SO 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 I will tell thee of a. maiden, 
 
 One who has thy longing fanned 
 
 Spirit of the Forest Music 
 
 Thou shalt take her by the hand, 
 
 Lightly by her rosy fingers 
 
 Trembling with her keen delight, 
 
 And her flying steps shall lead thee 
 Out upon the mountain s height; 
 
 To a dance undreamed of mortal 
 To the Bacchanal of Spring, 
 
 Where in mystic joy united 
 
 Nature s bright-eyed creatures sing. 
 
 There the green things of the mountain, 
 
 Million-voiced, newly-born, 
 And the flowers of the valley 
 
 In their beauty s crimson morn ; 
 
 There the winged winds of morning, 
 Spirits unresting, touched with fire, 
 
 And the streamlets, silver-throated, 
 They whose leaping steps ne er tire! 
 
 Thou shalt see them, ever circling 
 Round about a rocky spring, 
 
 While the gaunt old forest-warriors 
 Madly their wide branches fling. 
 
 Thou shalt tread the whirling measure, 
 Bathe thee in its frenzied strife ; 
 
 Thou shalt have a mighty memory 
 For thy spirit s after life. 
 
 Haste thee while thy heart is burning, 
 While thine eyes have strength to see; 
 
 Hark, behind yon blackening cloud-bank, 
 To the Storm-King s minstrelsy ! 
 
 See, he stamps upon the mountains, 
 And he leaps the valleys high! 
 
 Now he smites his forest harp-strings, 
 And he sounds his thunder-cry: 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Waken, lift ye up, ye creatures, 
 Sing the song, each living thing! 
 
 Join ye in the mighty passion 
 Of the Symphony of Spring! 
 
 And so the young poet finished, his cheeks fairly 
 on fire, and, as he gazed down at Helen, his hand 
 trembling so that he could hardly hold the paper. 
 One glance told him that she was pleased, for the 
 girl s face was flushed like his own, and her eyes 
 were sparkling with delight. Arthur s heart gave 
 a great throb within him. 
 
 "You like it!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh, Arthur, I do!" she cried. "Oh, how glorious 
 you must have been!" And trembling with girlish 
 delight, she took the paper from his hand and 
 placed it in front of her on the music rack. 
 
 "Oh, .1 should like to write music for it!" she ex 
 claimed; "for those lines about the Storm-King!" 
 
 And she read them aloud, clenching her hands 
 and % shaking her head, carried away by the image 
 they brought before her eyes. "Oh, I should like 
 music for it!" she cried again. 
 
 "I don t know very much about poetry, you 
 know," she added, laughing excitedly. "If it s about 
 the things I like, I can t help thinking it s fine. It s 
 just the same with music, if a man only makes it 
 swift and strong, so that it leaps and flies and never 
 tires, that is all I care about; and if he just keeps his 
 trombones till the very last, he can carry me off my 
 feet though he makes the worst noise that ever 
 was! It s the same as a storm, you know, Arthur; 
 do you remember how we used to go up on our 
 hillside when the great wind was coming, and when 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 everything \v;is growing still and black; and how 
 wr used to watch tlu> Ing clouds and the sheets of 
 rain, and run for home when we heard the thunder? 
 Once when you were away, Arthur, I didn t run, 
 for I wanted to see what it was like; and I stayed 
 up there and saw it all, singing the Ride of the 
 Valkyries/ and pretending I was one of them and 
 could gallop with the wind. For the wind is fine, 
 Arthur! It fills you so full of its power that you 
 stretch out your arms to it, and it makes you sing; 
 and it comes, and it comes again, stronger than 
 ever, and it sweeps you on, just like a great mass 
 of music. And then it howls through the trees and 
 it flies over the valleys, that was what you were 
 thinking of, weren t you, Arthur?" 
 
 And Helen stopped, breathlessly, and gazed at 
 him; her cheeks were flushed, and her hands still 
 tightly clasped. 
 
 "Yes," said Arthur, half mechanically, for he had 
 lost himself in the girl s enthusiasm, and felt the 
 storm of his verses once more. 
 
 "Your poem made me think of that one time that 
 was so gloriously," Helen went on. "For the rain 
 was almost blinding, and I was drenched, but I did 
 not even know it. For oh, the thunder! Arthur, 
 you ve no idea what thunder is like till you re near 
 it! There fell one fearful bolt quite near me, a 
 great white, living thing, as thick as a man s body, 
 and the crash of it seemed to split the air. But oh, 
 I didn t mind it a bit! <Der Sanger triumphirt in 
 Wettern! I think I was a real Valkyrie that time, 
 and I only wished that I might put it into music." 
 
 The girl turned to the piano, and half in play 
 
 53 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 struck a great rumbling chord, that rolled and 
 echoed through the room; she sounded it once more, 
 laughing aloud with glee. Arthur had sunk down 
 upon a chair beside her, and was bending forward, 
 watching her with growing excitement. For again 
 and again Helen struck the keys with all the power 
 of her arms, until they seemed to give forth real 
 storm and thunder; and as she went on with her 
 reckless play the mood grew upon her, and she lost 
 herself in the vision of the Storm-King sweeping 
 through the sky. She poured out a great stream 
 of his wild music, singing away to herself excitedly 
 in the meantime. And as the rush continued and 
 the fierce music swelled louder, the phantasy took 
 hold of the girl and carried her beyond herself. 
 She seemed to become the very demon of the storm, 
 unbound and reckless; she smote the keys with 
 right royal strength, and the piano seemed a thing 
 of life beneath her touch. The pace became faster, 
 and the thunder rattled and crashed more wildly, 
 and there awoke in the girl s soul a power of musi 
 cal utterance that she had never dreamed of in her 
 life before. Her whole being was swept away in 
 ecstasy; her lips were moving excitedly, and her 
 pulses were leaping like mad. She seemed no 
 longer to know of the young man beside her, who 
 was bent forward with clenched hands, carried be 
 yond himself by the sight of her exulting power. 
 
 And in the meantime, Helen s music was surging 
 on, building itself up into a great climax that 
 swelled and soared and burst in a deafening thun 
 der crash; and while the air was still throbbing and 
 
 54 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 echoing with it, the girl joined to it her deep voice, 
 grown suddenly conscious of new power: 
 
 "See, he stamps upon the mountains, 
 
 And he leaps the valleys high! 
 Now he smites his forest harp-strings, 
 And he sounds his thunder cry!" 
 
 And as the cry caine the girl laughed aloud, like 
 a very Valkyrie indeed, her laugh part of the music, 
 and carried on by it; and then gradually as the 
 tempest swept on, the rolling thunder was lost in 
 a march that was the very tread of the Storm-King. 
 And the march broadened, and the thunder died out 
 of it slowly, and all the wild confusion, and then 
 it rose, glorious and triumphant, and turned to a 
 mighty pean, a mightier one than ever Helen could 
 have made. The thought of it had come to her as 
 an inspiration, and as a refuge, that the glory of her 
 passion might not be lost. The march had led her 
 to it, and now it had taken her in its arms and 
 swept her away, as it had swept millions by its 
 majesty. It was the great Ninth Symphony Hymn : 
 
 "Hail thee, Joy! From Heaven descending, 
 
 Daughter from Elysium ! 
 Ecstasy our hearts inflaming, 
 
 To thy sacred shrine we come. 
 Thine enchantments bind together 
 
 Those whom custom s law divides; 
 All are brothers, all united, 
 Where thy gentle wing abides." 
 
 And Helen sang it as one possessed by it, as one 
 made drunk with its glory as the very Goddess of 
 Joy that she was. For the Storm-King and his 
 legions had fled, and another vision had come into 
 
 55 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her heart, a vision that every one ought to carry 
 with him when the great symphony is to be heard. 
 He should see the hall in Vienna where it was given 
 for the last time in the great master s life, and see 
 the great master himself, the bowed and broken 
 figure that all musicians worship, standing up to 
 conduct it; and see him leading it through all its 
 wild surging passion, almost too frantic to be en 
 dured; and then, when the last towering climax 
 has passed and the music has ceased and the multi 
 tude at his back has burst forth into its thunder 
 ing shout, see the one pathetic figure standing there 
 aloft before all eyes and still blindly beating the 
 time. There must have been tears in the eyes of 
 every man in that place to know the reason for it, 
 that he from whose heart all their joy had come, 
 he who was lord and master of it, had never heard 
 in his life and could never hope to hear one sound 
 of that music he had written, but must dwell a 
 prisoner in darkness and solitude forever. 
 
 That was the picture before Helen s eyes; she did 
 not think of the fearful tragedy of it she had no 
 feeling for tragedy, she knew no more about suffer 
 ing than a child just born. But joy she knew, and 
 joy she was; she was the multitude lifted up in its 
 ecstasy, throbbing, burning and triumphant, and 
 she sang the great choruses, one after another, and 
 the piano beneath her fingers thundered and rang 
 with the instrumental part. Surely in all music 
 there is no utterance of joy so sustained and so 
 overwhelming in its intensity as this; it is a frenzy 
 almost more than man can stand; it is joy more 
 than human the joy of existence: 
 
 56 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Pleasure every creature living 
 
 From kind Nature s breast receives; 
 Good and evil, all are seeking 
 For the rosy path she leaves." 
 
 And so the torrent of passionate exultation swept 
 Helen onward with it until the very end, the last 
 frantic prestissimo chorus, and then she sprang to 
 her feet and flung up her hands with a cry. She 
 stood thus for a moment, glowing with exultation, 
 and then she sank down again and sat staring be 
 fore her, the music still echoing through every 
 fiber of her soul, and the shouting multitude still 
 surging before her. 
 
 For just how long that lasted, she knew not, but 
 only that her wild mood was gradually subsiding, 
 and that she felt herself sinking back, as a bird 
 sinks after its flight; then suddenly she turned. 
 Arthur was at her side, and she gave a cry, for he 
 had seized her hand in his, and was covering it with 
 burning kisses. 
 
 "Arthur! Arthur!" she gasped. 
 
 The young man gazed up at her, and Helen re 
 membered the scene in the forest, and realized what 
 she had done. She had shaken him to the very 
 depths of his being by the emotion which she had 
 flung loose before him, and he seemed beside him 
 self at that moment, his hair disordered and his 
 forehead hot and flushed. He made a move as if to 
 clasp the girl in his arms, and Helen tore her 
 hand loose by main force and sprang back to the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Arthur!" she cried. "What do you mean?" 
 
 He clutched at a chair for support, and stood 
 
 57 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 staring at her. For fully a minute they remained 
 thus, Helen trembling with alarm; then his head 
 sank, and he flung himself down upon the sofa, 
 where he lay sobbing passionately. Helen remained 
 gazing at him with wide open and astonished eyes. 
 
 "Arthur! she exclaimed again. 
 
 But he did not hear her, for the cruel sobbing 
 that shook his frame. Helen, as soon as her first 
 alarm had passed, came softly nearer, till she stood 
 by the sofa; but still he did not heed her, and she 
 did not dare even to put her hand upon his shoulder. 
 She was afraid of him, her dearest friend, and she 
 knew not what to make of him. 
 
 "Arthur," she whispered again, when he was 
 silent for a moment. "Please speak to me, Arthur." 
 
 The other gazed up at her with a look of such help 
 less despair and longing upon his face that Helen 
 was frightened still more. He had been sobbing 
 as if his heart would break, but his eyes were dry. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she cried. 
 
 The young man answered her hoarsely: "Can 
 you not see what is the matter, Helen? I love you! 
 And you drive me mad!" 
 
 The girl turned very pale, and lowered her eyes 
 before his burning gaze. 
 
 "Helen," the other went on impetuously, "you 
 will break my heart if you treat me in this way. 
 Do you not know that for three long years I have 
 been dreaming of you, and of the promise that you 
 gave me? You told me that you loved me, and that 
 you always would love me! You told me that the 
 night before you went away; and you kissed me. 
 All this time I have been thinking of that kiss, and 
 
 58 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 cherishing the memory of it, and waiting for yon 
 to return. I have labored for no other reason, I 
 have had no other hope in the world; I have kept 
 your image before me, and lived in it, and wor 
 shiped before it, and the thought of you has been 
 all that I had. When I was tired and worn and ill 
 I could only think of you and remember your 
 promise, and count the days before your return. 
 And, oh, it has been so long that I could not stand 
 it! For weeks I have been so impatient, and so 
 filled with the thought of the day when I might see 
 you again that I have been helpless and half mad; 
 for I thought that I should take your hand in mine 
 and claim your promise. And this morning I 
 w r andered about the woods for hours, waiting for 
 you to come. And see how you have treated me!" 
 
 He buried his face in his hands again, and Helen 
 stood gazing at him, breathing very fast with alarm, 
 and unable to find a word to say. 
 
 "Helen," he groaned, without looking up again, 
 "do you not know that you are beautiful? Have 
 you no heart? You fling your soul bare before me, 
 and you fill me with this fearful passion; you will 
 drive me mad!" 
 
 "But, Arthur," she protested, "I could not think 
 of you so; I thought of you as my brother, and I 
 meant to make you happy." 
 
 "Tell me, then," he gasped, staring at her, "tell 
 me once for all. You do not love me, Helen?" 
 
 The girl answered with a frank gaze that was 
 cruel, "No, Arthur/ 
 
 "And you can never love me? You take back the 
 promise that you made me?" 
 
 59 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I told you that I was only a child, Arthur; it 
 has been a long time since I have thought of it." 
 
 The young man choked back a sob. "Oh, Helen, 
 if you only knew what cruel words those are," he 
 groaned. "I cannot bear them." 
 
 He gazed at her with his burning eyes, so that the 
 girl lowered hers again. "Tell me!" he exclaimed. 
 "What am I to do?" 
 
 "Can we not remain friends, just as we used to 
 be?" she asked pleadingly. "Can we not talk to 
 gether and help each other as before? Oh, Arthur, 
 I thought you would come here to live all summer, 
 and how I should like it! Why can you not? Can 
 you not let me play for you without without " 
 and Helen stopped, and flushed a trifle; "I do not 
 know quite what to make of you to-day," she added. 
 
 She was speaking kindly, but to the man beside 
 her with his burning heart, her words were hard 
 to hear; he stared at her, shuddering, and then 
 suddenly he clenched his hands and started to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Helen," he cried, "there is but one thing. I 
 must go!" 
 
 "Go?" echoed Helen. 
 
 "If I stay here and gaze at you I shall go mad 
 with despair," he exclaimed incoherently. "Oh, I 
 shall go mad! For I do love you, and you talk to 
 me as if I were a child! Helen, I must get this out 
 of my heart in some way, I cannot stay here. 
 
 "But, Arthur," the girl protested, "I told father 
 you would stay, and you will make yourself ill, for 
 you have walked all day." 
 
 Every word she uttered was more torment to the 
 
 60 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 other, for it showed him how much his hopes were 
 gone to wreck. He rushed across the room and 
 opened the door; then, however, he paused, as if that 
 had cost him all his resolution. He gazed at the girl 
 with a look of unspeakable yearning, his face white, 
 and his limbs trembling beneath him. 
 
 "You wish me to go, Helen?" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Wish you!" exclaimed Helen, who was watch 
 ing him in alarm. "Of course not; I want you to 
 stay and see father, and 
 
 "And hear you tell me that you do not love me! 
 Oh, Helen, how can you say it again? Can you not 
 see what you have done to me?" 
 
 "Arthur! cried the girl. 
 
 "Yes, what you have done to me! You have made 
 me so that I dare not stay near you. You must love 
 me, Helen, oh, some time you must!" And he came 
 toward her again, stretching out his arms to her. 
 As she sprang back, frowning, he stopped and stood 
 for an instant, half sinking; then he whirled about 
 and darted out of the door. 
 
 Helen was scarcely able to realize at first that 
 he was gone, but when she looked out she saw that 
 .he was already far down the street, walking swiftly. 
 For a moment she thought of calling him; but she 
 checked herself, and closed the door quietly instead, 
 after which she walked slowly across the room. In 
 the center of it she stopped still, gazing in front of 
 her thoughtfully, and looking very grave indeed. 
 "That is dreadful," she said slowly. "I had no idea 
 of such a thing. \Yhat in the world am I to do?" 
 
 There was a tall mirror between the two windows 
 of the room, and Helen went toward it and stood 
 
 61 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 in front of it, gazing earnestly at herself. "Is it 
 true, then, that I am so very beautiful?" she mused. 
 "And even Arthur must fall in love with me!" 
 
 Helen s face was still flushed with the glory of 
 her ride with the Storm-King; she smoothed back 
 the long strands of golden hair that had come loose, 
 and then she looked at herself again. "It is dread 
 ful," she said once more, half aloud, "I do not think 
 I ever felt so nervous in iny life, and I don t know 
 what to do; everything I did to please him seemed 
 only to make him more miserable. I wanted him to 
 be happy with me; I wanted him to stay with me." 
 And she walked away frowning, and seated herself 
 at the piano and began peevishly striking at the 
 keys. "I am going to write to him and tell him that 
 he must get over that dreadfulness," she muttered 
 after a while, "and come back and be friends with 
 me. Oakdale will be too stupid without him all 
 summer, and I should be miserable." 
 
 She was just rising impatiently when the front 
 door opened and her father came in, exclaiming in a 
 cheery voice, "Well, children! Then he stopped 
 in surprise. "Why, someone told me Arthur was 
 here!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "He s gone home again," said Helen, in a dis 
 satisfied tone. 
 
 "Home!" exclaimed the other. "To Hilltown?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But I thought he was going to stay until to 
 morrow." 
 
 "So did I," said Helen, "but he changed his mind 
 and decided that he d better not." 
 
 "Why, I am really disappointed," said Mr. Davis. 
 
 62 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I thought we should have a little family party; I 
 haven t seen Arthur for a month." 
 
 There is some important reason," said Helen 
 "that s what he told me, anyway." She did not 
 want her father to have any idea of the true reason, 
 or to ask any inconvenient questions. 
 
 Mr. Davis would perhaps have done so, had he 
 not something else on his mind. "By the way, 
 Helen," he said, "I must ask you, what in the world 
 was that fearful noise you were making?" 
 
 "Noise?" asked Helen, puzzled for a moment. 
 
 "Why, yes; I met ...oid Mr. Nelson coming down 
 the street, and he said that you were making a 
 most dreadful racket upon the piano, and shouting, 
 too, and that there were a dozen people standing 
 in the street, staring!" 
 
 A sudden wild thought occurred to Helen, and 
 she whirled about. Sure enough, she found the two 
 windows of the room wide open; and that was too 
 much for her gravity; she flung herself upon the 
 sofa and gave vent to peal after peal of laughter. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy!" she gasped. "Oh, Daddy!" 
 
 Mr. Davis did not understand the joke, but he 
 waited patiently, taking off his gloves in the mean 
 time. "What it is, Helen?" he enquired. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy!" exclaimed the girl again, and lifted 
 herself up and turned her laughing eyes upon him. 
 "And now I understand why inspired people have 
 to live in the country!" 
 
 "W 7 hat was it, Helen?" 
 
 "It it wasn t anything, Daddy, except that I was 
 playing and singing for Arthur, and I forgot to 
 close the windows." 
 
 63 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "You must remember, my love, that you live in a 
 clergyman s house," said Mr. Davis. "I have no ob 
 jection to merriment, but it must be within bounds. 
 Mr. Nelson said that he did not know what to think 
 was the matter." 
 
 Helen made a wry face at the name; the Nelsons 
 were a family of Methodists who lived across the 
 way. Methodists are people who take life seriously 
 as a rule, and Helen thought the Nelsons were very 
 queer indeed. 
 
 "I ll bet he did know what to think," she 
 chuckled, "even if he didn t say it; he thought that 
 was just what to expect from a clergyman who had 
 a decanter of wine on his dinner table." 
 
 Mr. Davis could not help smiling. And as for 
 Helen, she was herself all over again; for when her 
 father had come in, she had about reached a point 
 where she could no longer bear to be serious and 
 unhappy. As he went on to ask her to be a little 
 less reckless, Helen put her arms around him and 
 said, with the solemnity that she always wore when 
 she was gayest: "But, Daddy, I don t know what 
 I m to do; you sent me to Germany to study music, 
 and if I m never to play it 
 
 "Yes, but Helen; such frantic, dreadful noise!" 
 
 "But, Daddy, the Germans are emotional people, 
 you know; no one would have been in the least sur 
 prised at that in Germany; it was a hymn, Daddy!" 
 
 "A hymn!" gasped Mr. Davis. 
 
 "Yes, honestly," said Helen. "It is a wonderful 
 hymn. Every German knows it nearly by heart." 
 
 Mr. Davis had as much knowledge of German 
 music as might be expected of one who had lived 
 
 64 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 twenty years in the country and heard three hymns 
 and an anthem sung every Sunday br a volunteer 
 choir. Helen s musical education, as all her other 
 education, had been superintended by Aunt Polly, 
 and the only idea that came to Mr. Davis mind was 
 of Wagner, whose name he had heard people talk 
 about in connection with noise and incoherency. 
 
 "Helen," he said, "I trust that is not the kind of 
 hymn you are going to sing to-morrow." 
 
 "I don t know," was the puzzled reply. "I ll see 
 what I can do, Daddy. It s dreadfully hard to find 
 anything in German music like the slow-going, 
 practical lives that we dull Yankees lead." Then 
 a sudden idea occurred to the girl, and she ran to 
 the piano with a gleeful laugh: "Just see, for in 
 stance," she said, fumbling hurriedly amongst her 
 music, "I was playing the Moonlight Sonata this 
 morning, and that s a good instance." 
 
 "This is the kind of moonlight they have in Ger 
 many," she laughed when she found it. After ham 
 mering out a few discords of her own she started 
 recklessly into the incomprehensible "presto," thun 
 dering away at every crescendo as if to break her 
 fingers. "Isn t it fine, Daddy?" she cried, gazing 
 over her shoulder. 
 
 "I don t see what it has to do with the moon," 
 said the clergyman, gazing helplessly at the open 
 window, and wondering if another crowd was 
 gathering. 
 
 "That s what everybody s been trying to find 
 out!" said Helen; then, as she heard the dinner bell 
 out in the hall, she ended with half a dozen frantic 
 runs, and jumping up with the last of them, took 
 
 5 65 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her father s arm and danced out of the room with 
 him. 
 
 "Perhaps when we come to see the other side of 
 the moon," she said, "we may discover all about it. 
 Or else it s because the moon is supposed to set 
 people crazy." So they passed in to dinner, where 
 Helen was as animated as ever, poor Arthur and 
 his troubles seeming to have vanished completely 
 from her thoughts. 
 
 In fact, it was not until the meal was nearly over 
 that she spoke of them again; she noticed that it 
 was growing dark outside, and she stepped to the 
 window just as a distant rumble of thunder was 
 heard. 
 
 "Dear me!" she exclaimed. "There s a fearful 
 storm coming, and poor Arthur is out in it; he must 
 be a long way from town by this time, and there is 
 no house where he can go." From the window where 
 she stood she had a view across the hills in back of 
 the town, and could see the black clouds coming 
 swiftly on. "It is like we were imagining this morn 
 ing," she mused; "I wonder if he will think of it." 
 
 The dinner was over soon after that, and she 
 looked out again, just as the first drops of rain were 
 falling; the thunder was rolling louder, bringing 
 to Helen a faint echo of her morning music. She 
 went in and sat down at the piano, her fingers roam 
 ing over the keys hesitatingly. "I wish I could get 
 it again," she mused. "It seems like a dream when 
 I think of it, it was so wild and so wonderful. Oh, 
 if I could only remember that march!" 
 
 There came a crash of thunder near by, as if to 
 help her, but Helen found that all efforts were in 
 
 66 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 vain. Neither the storm music nor the march came 
 hack to her, and even when she 1 played a few chords 
 <f the great chorus she had sung, it sounded tame 
 and commonplace. Helen knew that the glory of 
 that morning was gone where goes the best in 
 spiration of all humanity, back into nothingness 
 and night. 
 
 "It was a shame," she thought, as she rose discon 
 tentedly from the piano. "I never was so carried 
 away by music in my life, and the memory of it 
 would have kept me happy for weeks, if Arthur 
 hadn t been here to trouble me!" 
 
 Then, however, as she went to the window again 
 to watch the storm which was now raging in all its 
 majesty, she added more unselfishly: "Poor boy! 
 It is dreadful to think of him being out in it." She 
 saw a bolt of lightning strike in the distance, and 
 she waited breathlessly for the thunder. It was a 
 fearful crash, and it made her blood run faster, and 
 her eyes sparkle. "My! she exclaimed. "But it s 
 fine!" And then she added with a laugh, "He can 
 correct his poem by it, if he wants to!" 
 
 She turned to go upstairs. On the way she 
 stopped with a rather conscience-stricken look, and 
 said to herself, "Poor fellow! It seems a shame to 
 be happy!" She stood for a moment thinking, but 
 then she added, "Yet I declare, I don t know what 
 to do for him; it surely isn t my fault if I am not 
 in love with him in that mad fashion, and I don t 
 see why I should make myself wretched about it!" 
 Having thus silenced her conscience, she went up to 
 unpack her trunks, humming to herself on the way: 
 
 67 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Sir Knight, a faithful sister s lor 
 
 This heart devotes to thee; 
 
 I pray thee ask no other love, 
 
 For pain that causes me. 
 
 "Quiet would I see thee come, 
 
 And quiet see thee go; 
 The silent weeping of thine eyet 
 I cannot bear to know." 
 
 While she was singing Arthur was in the midst of 
 the tempest, staggering towards his home ten miles 
 away. He was drenched by the cold rain, and shiv 
 ering and almost fainting from exhaustion for he 
 had eaten nothing since early dawn; yet so wretched 
 and sick at heart was he that he felt nothing, and 
 scarcely heard the storm or realized where he was. 
 
 
 
 ^-*?r J ^. -J. ^ ^ . 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 "Dosn t thou ear my erse s legs, as they canters awaiiy? 
 Proputty, proputty, proputty that s what I ears em saay. 
 
 But I knawed a Quaiiker feller as often as towd ma this: 
 Doiint thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny is!" 3 
 
 HELEN had much to do to keep her busy during 
 the next few days. She had in the first place to re 
 ceive visits from nearly everybody in Oakdale, for 
 she was a general favorite in the town, and besides 
 that everyone was curious to see what effect the 
 trip had had upon her beauty and accomplishments. 
 Then too, she had the unpacking of an incredible 
 number of trunks; it was true that Helen, having 
 been a favored boarder at an aristocratic seminary, 
 was not in the habit of doing anything troublesome 
 herself, but she considered it necessary to super 
 intend the servant. Last of all there was a great 
 event at the house of her aunt, Mrs. Roberts, to be 
 anticipated and prepared for. 
 
 It has been said that the marriage of Mr. Davis 
 had been a second romance in that worthy man s 
 career, he having had the fortune to win the love of 
 a daughter of a very wealthy family which lived 
 near Oakdale. The parents had of course been bit 
 terly opposed to the match, but the girl had had her 
 way. Unfortunately, however, the lovers, or at 
 
 69 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 any rate the bride, having been without any real 
 idea of duty or sacrifice, the match had proved 
 one of those that serve to justify the opinions of 
 people who are "sensible;" the young wife, weary 
 ing of the lot she had chosen, had sunk into a state 
 of peevish discontent from which death came to 
 relieve her. 
 
 Of this prodigal daughter Aunt Polly was the 
 elder, and wiser, sister. She had never ceased to 
 urge upon the other, both before and after mar 
 riage, the folly of her conduct, and had lived her 
 self to be a proof of her own more excellent sense, 
 having married a wealthy stockbroker who proved 
 a good investment, trebling his own capital and 
 hers in a few years. Aunt Polly therefore had a 
 fine home upon Madison Avenue in New York, and 
 a most aristocratic country-seat a few miles from 
 Oakdale, together with the privilege of frequenting 
 the best society in New York, and of choosing her 
 friends amongst the most wealthy in the neigh 
 borhood of the little town. This superiority to her 
 erring sister had probably been one of the causes 
 that had contributed to develop the most prominent 
 trait in her character which is perhaps the most 
 prominent trait of high society in general a com 
 plete satisfaction with the world she knew, and 
 what she knew about it, and the part she played in 
 it. For the rest, Aunt Polly was one of those 
 bustling little women who rule the world in almost 
 everything, because the world finds it is too much 
 trouble to oppose them. She had assumed, and had 
 generally succeeded in having recognized, a com 
 plete superiority to Mr. Davis in her knowledge 
 
 70 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 about life, with the result that, as has been stated, 
 the education of the one child of the unfortunate 
 marriage had been managed by her. 
 
 When, therefore, Helen had come off the steamer, 
 it had been Mrs. Roberts who was there to meet 
 her; and the arrangement announced was that the 
 girl was to have three days to spend with her 
 father, and was then to come for a week or two 
 at her aunt s, who was just opening her country 
 home and who intended to invite a score of people 
 whom she considered, for reasons of her own, 
 proper persons for her niece to meet. Mrs. Roberts 
 spoke very condescendingly indeed of the company 
 which Helen met at her father s, Mr. Davis having 
 his own opinions about the duty of a clergyman 
 toward the non-aristocratic members of his flock. 
 
 The arrangement, it is scarcely necessary to say, 
 pleased Helen very much indeed; the atmosphere 
 of luxury and easy superiority which she found at 
 her aunt s was much to her taste, and she looked 
 forward to being a center of attraction there with 
 the keenest delight. In the meantime, however, 
 she slaked her thirst for happiness just as well at 
 Oakdale, accepting with queenly grace the homage 
 of all who came to lay their presents at her feet. 
 Sunday proved to be a day of triumph, for all the 
 town had come to church, and was as much stirred 
 by the glory of her singing as Arthur had pre 
 dicted. After the service everyone waited to tell 
 her about it, and so she was radiant indeed. 
 
 By Tuesday, however, all that had come to seem 
 a trifling matter, for that afternoon Aunt Polly 
 was to come, and a new world was to be opened for 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her conquest. Helen was amusing herself by sort 
 ing out the motley collection of souvenirs and 
 curios which she had brought home to decorate her 
 room, when she heard a carriage drive up at the 
 door, and a minute later heard the voice of Mrs. 
 Roberts footman in the hall. 
 
 Mrs. Roberts herself did not alight, and Helen 
 kept her waiting only long enough to slip on her 
 hat, and to bid her father a hurried farewell. In a 
 minute more she was in the carriage, and was 
 being borne in state down the main street of 
 Oakdale. 
 
 "You are beautiful to-day, my dear," said her 
 aunt, beaming upon her; "I hope you are all ready 
 for your triumph." 
 
 "I think so," said Helen. "I ve about seen every* 
 body and everything I wanted to at home; I ve been 
 wonderfully happy, Auntie." 
 
 "That is right, my dear," said Aunt Polly. "You 
 have certainly every cause to be, and you would be 
 foolish not to make the most of it. But I should 
 think this town would seem a somewhat less im 
 portant place to you, after all that you have seen 
 of the world." 
 
 "Yes, it does a little," laughed Helen, "but it 
 seemed good to see all the old people again." 
 
 "Someone told me they saw Arthur here on Sat 
 urday," said the other. "Did you see him?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Helen; "that s what he came for. 
 You can fancy how glad I was to meet him. I spent 
 a couple of hours walking in the woods with him." 
 
 Mrs. Roberts look of dismay may be imagined; 
 it was far too great for her to hide. 
 
 72 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Where is he now?" she asked, hastily. 
 
 "Oh, lie has gone home," said Helen: and she 
 added, smiling, "he went on Saturday afternoon, 
 because he s writing a poem about thunderstorms, 
 and he wanted to study that one." 
 
 The other was sufficiently convinced of the irre 
 sponsibility of poets to be half uncertain whether 
 Helen was joking or not; it was very frequently 
 difficult to tell, anyway, for Helen would look 
 serious and amuse herself by watching another 
 person s mystification a trait of character which 
 would have been intolerable in anyone less fasci 
 nating than she. 
 
 Perhaps Aunt Polly thought something of that as 
 she sat and watched the girl. Aunt Polly was a 
 little woman who looked as if she herself might 
 have once made some pretense to being a belle, but 
 she was very humble before Helen. "My dear," she 
 said, "every minute that I watch you, I am aston 
 ished to see how wonderfully you have grown. Do 
 you know, Helen, you are glorious!" 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, smiling delightedly. "Isn t it 
 nice, Aunt Polly? I m so glad I m beautiful." 
 
 "You funny child," laughed the other. "What a 
 queer thing to say!" 
 
 "Am I not to know I am beautiful?" inquired 
 Helen, looking at her with open eyes. "Why, dear 
 me! I can look at myself in the glass and be 
 just as happy as anyone else; I love everything 
 beautiful." 
 
 Aunt Polly beamed upon her. "I am glad of it, my 
 dear," she laughed. "I only wish I could say some- 
 
 73 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 thing to you to make you realize what your wonder 
 ful beauty means." 
 
 "How, Aunt Polly?" asked the girl. "Have you 
 been reading poetry?" 
 
 "No," said the other, "not exactly; but you know 
 very well in your heart what hopes I have for you, 
 Helen, and I only wish you could appreciate the gift 
 that has been given you, and not fling it away in 
 any foolish fashion. With your talents and your 
 education, my dear, there is almost nothing that 
 you might not do." 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, with all of her seriousness, 
 "I often think of it; perhaps, Auntie, I might be 
 come a poetess!" 
 
 The other looked aghast. Helen had seen the 
 look on her aunt s face at the mention of her walk 
 with Arthur, and being a young lady of electrical 
 wit, had understood just what it meant, and just 
 how the rest of the conversation was intended to 
 bear upon the matter; with that advantage she was 
 quite in her glory. 
 
 "No, indeed, Aunt Polly," she said, "you can 
 never tell; just suppose, for instance, I were to fall 
 in love with and marry a man of wonderful genius, 
 who would help me to devote myself to art? It 
 would not make any difference, you know, if he 
 were poor we could struggle and help each other. 
 And oh, I tell you, if I were to meet such a man, 
 and to know that he loved me truly, and to have 
 proof that he could remember me and be true to me, 
 even when I was far away, oh, I tell you, nothing 
 could ever keep me " 
 
 Helen was declaiming her glowing speech with 
 
 74 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 real fervor, her hands dramatically outstretched. 
 Hut she could not get any further, for the look of 
 utter horror upon her auditor s face was too much 
 for her; she dropped her hands and made the air 
 echo with her laughter. 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Polly, you goose!" she cried, flinging 
 one arm about her, have you really forgotten me 
 that much in three years?" 
 
 The other was so relieved at the happy de^noue- 
 uient of that fearful tragedy that she could only 
 protest, "Helen, Helen, why do you fool me so?" 
 
 "Because you fool me, or try to," said Helen. 
 "When you have a sermon to preach on the impro 
 priety of walking in the woods alone with a sus 
 ceptible young poet, I wish you d mount formally 
 into the pulpit and begin with the text." 
 
 "My dear," laughed the other, "you are too quick; 
 but I must confess 
 
 "Of course you must," said the girl; and she 
 folded her hands meekly and looked grave. "And 
 now I am ready; and if you meet with any diffi 
 culties in the course of your sermon, I ve an expert 
 at home who has preached one hundred and four 
 every year for twenty years, all genuine and no two 
 alike." 
 
 "Helen," said the other, "I do wish you would 
 talk seriously with me. You are old enough to be 
 your own mistress now, and to do as you please, but 
 you ought to realize that I have seen the world 
 more than you, and that my advice is worth some 
 thing." 
 
 "Tell it to me," said Helen, ceasing to laugh, and 
 leaning back in the carriage and gazing at her aunt. 
 
 75 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "What do you want me to do, now that I am home? 
 I will be really serious if you wish me to, for that 
 does interest me. I suppose that my education is 
 finished ?" 
 
 "Yes," said the other, "it ought to be, certainly; 
 you have had every advantage that a girl can have, 
 a great deal more than I ever had. And you owe 
 it all to me, Helen, you do, really; if it hadn t 
 been for my insisting you d have gotten all your 
 education at Hilltown, and you d have played the 
 piano and sung like Mary Nelson across the way." 
 
 Helen shuddered, and felt that that was cause 
 indeed for gratitude. 
 
 "It is true," said her aunt; "I ve taken as much 
 interest in you as in any one of my own children, 
 and you must know it. It was for no reason at all 
 but that I saw what a wonderful woman you prom 
 ised to become, and I was anxious to help you to 
 the social position that I thought you ought to have. 
 And now, Helen, the chance is yours if you care to 
 take it." 
 
 "I am taking it, am I not?" asked Helen; "I m go 
 ing with you, and I shall be just as charming as I 
 can." 
 
 "Yes, I know," said the other, smiling a little; 
 "but that is not exactly what I mean." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Of course, my dear, you may enter good society 
 a while by visiting me; but that will not be per 
 manently. You will have to marry into it, Helen 
 dear." 
 
 "Marry!" echoed the girl, taken aback. "Dear 
 me!" 
 
 76 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "You will wish to marry some time," said the 
 other, "and so you should look forward to it and 
 choose your course. With your charms, Helen, 
 there is almost nothing that you might not hope 
 for; you must know yourself that you could make 
 any man fall in love with you that you wished. 
 And you ought to know also that if you only had 
 wealth you could enter any society; for you have 
 good birth, and you will discover that you have 
 more knowledge and more wit than most of the 
 people you meet." 
 
 "I ve discovered that already," said Helen, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 "All that you must do, my love," went on the 
 other, "is to realize what is before you, and make 
 up your mind to what you want. You know that 
 your tastes are not those of a poor woman; you 
 have been accustomed to comfort, and you need re 
 finement and wealth; you could never be happy un 
 less you could entertain your friends properly, and 
 live as you pleased." 
 
 "But I don t want to marry a man just for his 
 money," protested the girl, not altogether pleased 
 with her aunt s business-like view. 
 
 4 No one wants you to," the other responded; "you 
 may marry for love if you like; but it is not im 
 possible to love a rich man, is it, Helen?" 
 
 "But, Aunt Polly," said Helen, "I am satisfied as 
 I am now. I do not want to marry anybody. The 
 very idea makes me shudder." 
 
 "I am not in the least anxious that you should," 
 was the answer. "You are young, and you may 
 choose your own time. All I am anxious for is that 
 
 77 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 you should realize the future that is before you. It 
 is dreadful to me to think that you might throw 
 your precious chance away by some ridiculous 
 folly/ 7 
 
 Helen looked at her aunt for a moment, and then 
 the irrepressible smile broke out. 
 
 "What is the matter, child?" asked the other. 
 
 "Nothing, except that I was thinking about how 
 these thoughts were brought up." 
 
 "How do you mean?" 
 
 "Apropos of my woodland walk with poor Ar 
 thur. Auntie, I do believe you re afraid I m going 
 to fall in love with the dear fellow." 
 
 "No," said Aunt Polly; "it is not exactly that, 
 for I d never be able to sleep at night if I thought 
 you capable of anything quite so ghastly. But we 
 must have some care of what people will think, my 
 dear Helen." 
 
 As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly did have some 
 very serious fears about the matter, as has been 
 hinted before; it was, perhaps, a kind of tribute 
 to the divine fire which even society s leaders pay. 
 If it had been a question of a person of her own 
 sense and experience, the word "genius would 
 have suggested no danger to Mrs. Roberts, but it 
 was different with a young and probably senti 
 mental person like Helen, with her inflaming 
 beauty. 
 
 "As a matter of fact, Aunt Polly," said Helen, 
 "everybody understands my intimacy with Arthur." 
 
 "Tell me, Helen dear," said the other, turning her 
 keen glance upon her; "tell me the honest truth." 
 
 "About what?" 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "You are not in love with Arthur?" 
 
 And Helen answered her with her eyes very wide 
 open: "No, I certainly am not in the least." 
 
 And the other drew secretly a great breath of 
 relief. "Is he in love with you, Helen?" she asked. 
 
 As Helen thought of Arthur s departure, the 
 question could not but bring a smile. "I I m 
 afraid he is," she said "a very little." 
 
 What a ridiculous impertinence!" exclaimed the 
 other, indignantly. 
 
 "Oh, that s all right, Auntie," said Helen; "he 
 really can t help it, you know." She paused for a 
 moment, and then she went on: "Such things used 
 to puzzle me when I was very young, and I used to 
 think them quite exciting; but I m getting used to 
 them now. All the men seem to fall in love with 
 me, they do, honestly, and I don t know how in the 
 world to help it. They all will make themselves 
 wretched, and I m sure it isn t my fault. I haven t 
 told you anything about my German lovers, have 
 I, Auntie?" 
 
 "Gracious, no!" said the other; "were there any?" 
 
 "Any?" laughed the girl. "I might have robbed 
 the Emperor of a whole colonel s staff, and the 
 colonel at the head of it. But I ll tell you about 
 Johann, the funniest one of all; I think he really 
 loved me more than all the rest." 
 
 "Pray, who was Johann?" asked Aunt Polly, 
 thinking how fortunate it was that she learned of 
 these things only after the danger was over. 
 
 "I never will forget the first time I met him," 
 laughed the girl, "the first day I went to the school. 
 Johann was a little boy who opened the door for 
 
 79 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 me, and he stared at me as if he were in a trance; 
 he had the most wonderful round eyes, and puffy 
 red cheeks that made me always think I d happened 
 to ring the bell while he was eating; and every 
 time after that he saw me for three years he used to 
 gaze at me in the same helpless wonder, with all 
 fingers of his fat little hands wide apa*rt." 
 
 "What a disagreeable wretch!" said the other. 
 
 "Not in the least," laughed Helen; "I liked him. 
 But the funniest part came afterwards, for when 
 I came away Johann had grown a whole foot, and 
 was quite a man. I sent for him to put the straps 
 on my trunks, and guess what he did! He stared 
 at me for a minute, just the same as ever, and then 
 he ran out of the room, blubbering like a baby; and 
 that s the last I ever saw of him." 
 
 Helen was laughing as she told the story, but 
 then she stopped and looked a little conscience- 
 stricken. "Do you know, Aunt Folly," she said, "it 
 is really a dreadful thing to make people unhappy 
 like that; I suppose poor Johann had spent three 
 whole years dreaming about the enchanted castle 
 in which I was to be fairy princess." 
 
 "It was a good chance for a romantic marriage," 
 said the other. 
 
 "Yes," said the girl, laughing again; "I tried to 
 fancy it. He d have kept a Wirthshaus, I suppose, 
 and I d have served the guests; and Arthur might 
 have come, and I d have cut Butterbrod for him 
 and he could have been my Werther! Wouldn t 
 Arthur have made a fine Werther, though, Aunt 
 Polly?" 
 
 80 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "And blown his brains out afterwards," added 
 the other. 
 
 "No," said Helen, "brains are too scarce; I d 
 rather have him follow Goethe s example and write 
 a book about it instead. You know I don t believe 
 half the things these poets tell you, for I think they 
 put themselves through their dreadful experiences 
 just to tell about them and make themselves fa 
 mous. Don t you believe that, Auntie?" 
 
 "I don t know," said the other ( a statement which 
 she seldom made). "I don t know much about such 
 things. Nobody reads poetry any more, you know, 
 Helen, and it doesn t really help one along very 
 much." 
 
 "It doesn t do any harm, does it?" inquired the 
 girl, smiling to herself, "just a little, once in a 
 while?" 
 
 "Oh, no, of course not," said the other; "I be 
 lieve that a woman ought to have a broad educa 
 tion, for she never knows what may be the whims 
 of the men she meets, or what turn a conversation 
 may take. All I m afraid of, Helen, is that if you 
 fill your mind with sentimental ideas you might be 
 so silly as to fancy that you were doing something 
 romantic in throwing your one great chance away 
 upon some worthless nobody. I want you to realize 
 what you are, Helen, and that you owe something 
 to yourself, and to your family, too; for the Roberts 
 have always had wealth and position until your 
 mother chose to marry a poor man. What I warn 
 you of now is exactly what I warned her of. Your 
 father is a good man, but he had absolutely nothing 
 to make your mother happy; she was cut oil from 
 6 81 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 everything she had been used to, she could not 
 even keep a carriage. And of course she could not 
 receive her old friends, very few of them cared to 
 have anything more to do with her, and so she 
 simply pined away in discontentment and miserable 
 poverty. You have had an easy life, Helen, and 
 you have no idea of what a horrible thing it is to 
 be poor; you have had the best of teachers, and you 
 have lived at an expensive school, and of course 
 you have always had me to rely upon to introduce 
 you to the right people; but if you married a poor 
 man you couldn t expect to keep any of those ad 
 vantages. I don t speak of your marrying a man 
 who had no money at all, for that would be too 
 fearful to talk about; but suppose you were to take 
 any one of the young men you might meet at Oak- 
 dale even, you d have to live in a mean little house, 
 and do with one or two servants, and worry your 
 self about the butcher s bills and brush your own 
 dresses and drive your own horse. And how long 
 do you suppose it would be before you repented of 
 that? Think of having to be like those poor 
 Masons, for instance; they are nice people, and I 
 like them, but I hate to go there, for every time I 
 can t help seeing that the parlor furniture is more 
 dingy, and thinking how miserable they must be, 
 not to be able to buy new 7 things. And their serv 
 ants liveries are half worn too; and when you dine 
 there you see that Mrs. Mason is eating with a 
 plated fork, because she has not enough of her best 
 silver to go around. All those things are trifles, 
 Helen, but think of the worry they must give those 
 poor people, who are pinching themselves and wear- 
 
 82 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ing themselves out soul and body, trying to keep 
 in the station where they belong, or used to. Poor 
 Mrs. Mason is pale and nervous and wrinkled at 
 forty, and those three poor girls, who spend their 
 time making over their old dresses, are so dowdy- 
 looking and uneasy that no man ever glances at 
 them twice. It is such misery as that which I dread 
 for you, Helen, and why I am talking to you. There 
 is no reason why you should take upon you such 
 sorrows; you have a clear head, and you can think 
 for yourself and make up your mind about things 
 if you only won t blind yourself by foolish senti 
 mentality. You have been brought up to a certain 
 station in life, and no man has a right to offer him 
 self to you unless he can maintain you in that sta 
 tion. There is really no scarcity of such men, Helen, 
 and you d have no trouble in finding one. There are 
 hundreds of men in New York who are worth mil 
 lions, and who would fling themselves and their 
 wealth at your feet if you would have them. And 
 you would find such a difference between the oppor 
 tunities of pleasure and command that such n 
 chance would give you and the narrow life that you 
 lead in this little town that you would wonder how 
 you could ever have been satisfied. It is difficult 
 for you to realize what I mean, my dear, because 
 you have only a schoolgirl s knowledge of life and 
 its pleasures, but when you are in the world, and 
 have learned what power is, and what it means to 
 possess such beauty as yours, you will feel your 
 heart swelling with a new pleasure, and you will 
 thank me for what I tell you. I have figured a 
 wonderful triumph for you, Helen, and it is time 
 
 83 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 you knew what is before you. Of what use is your 
 beauty, if you do not carry it into a wide enough 
 sphere, where it can bring you the admiration and 
 homage you deserve? You need such a field, Helen, 
 to discover your own powers in; believe me, my 
 dear, there is really a higher ambition in the world 
 than to be a country clergyman s daughter." 
 
 "Is there any higher than being happy, Auntie?" 
 asked Helen. 
 
 The importance of that observation was beyond 
 the other s ken, as indeed it was beyond Helen s 
 also; she had thrown it out as a chance remark. 
 
 "Mr. Roberts and I were talking about this last 
 night," went on Aunt Polly, "and he told me that I 
 ought to talk seriously to you about it, and get 
 you to realize what a golden future is before you. 
 For it is really true, Helen, as sure as you can 
 trust what I know about the world, that you can 
 have absolutely anything that you want. That 
 is the long and short of the matter anything that 
 you want! And why should you not have the very 
 best that life can give you? Why should you have 
 to know that other people dwell in finer houses 
 than yours, and are free from cares that make you 
 ill? Why should you have the humiliation of being 
 looked down upon and scorned by other people? 
 Are these other people more entitled to luxury than 
 you, or more able to enjoy it; or could anyone do it 
 more honor than you? You are beautiful beyond 
 telling; you have every gift that a woman can ask 
 to complete enjoyment of life; you are perfect, 
 Helen, you are really perfect! You must know that; 
 you must say it to yourself when you are alone, 
 
 8 4 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 and know lhat your life ought to be a queenly 
 triumph. You have only to stretch out your arms 
 and everything will come to you; and there is really 
 and truly no end to the happiness you can taste." 
 
 Helen was gazing at the other with real earnest 
 ness, and the words were sinking deep into her soul, 
 deeper than words generally sunk there. She felt 
 her cheeks burning, and her frame stirred by a 
 new emotion; she had seldom before thought of 
 anything but the happiness of the hour. 
 
 "Just think of it, my love," continued Mrs. Rob 
 erts, "and know that that is what your old auntie 
 was thinking of when you were only a little tiny 
 girl, sitting upon her knee, and when you were so 
 beautiful that artists used to beg to have you pose 
 for them. I never said anything about it then, be 
 cause you were too young to understand these 
 things; but now that you are to manage yourself, 
 I have been waiting for a chance to tell you, so that 
 you may see what a prize is yours if you are only 
 wise. And if you wonder why I have cared so much 
 and thought so much of what might be yours, the 
 only reason I can give is that you are my niece, and 
 that I felt that any triumph you might win would 
 be mine. I want you to win a higher place in the 
 world than mine, Helen; I never had such a gift as 
 yours." 
 
 Helen was silent for a minute, deeply thoughtful. 
 
 "Tell me, Auntie," she asked, "and is it really 
 true, then, that a woman is to train herself and 
 grow beautiful and to have so much trouble and 
 money spent upon her only for her marriage?" 
 
 "Why of course, Helen; what else can a woman 
 
 85 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 do? Unless you have money and a husband you 
 cannot possibly hope to accomplish anything in so 
 ciety. With your talents and your beauty you 
 might go anywhere and rule anywhere, but you 
 have to have money before you can even begin." 
 
 "But where am I to meet such a rich man, Aunt 
 Polly?" asked Helen. 
 
 "You know perfectly well where. Do you sup 
 pose that after I have worried myself about you all 
 this time I mean to desert you now, when you are 
 at the very climax of your glory, when you are all 
 that I ever dared dream of? My dear Helen, I am 
 more interested in you just now than in anything 
 else in the world. I feel as a card player feels 
 when millions are at stake, and when he knows that 
 he holds the perfect hand." 
 
 "That is very nice," said Helen, laughing nerv 
 ously. "But there is always a chance of mistake." 
 
 "There is none this time, Helen, for I am an old 
 player, and I have been picking and arranging my 
 hand for long, long years; and you are the hand, 
 my love, and the greatest glory of it all must be 
 yours." 
 
 Helen s heart was throbbing still faster with ex 
 citement, as if she were already tasting the wonder 
 ful triumph that was before her; her aunt was 
 watching her closely, noting how the blood was 
 mounting to her bright cheeks. The girl felt her 
 self suddenly choking with her pent up excitement, 
 and she stretched out her arms with a strange 
 laugh. 
 
 "Auntie," she said, "you tell me too much at 
 once." 
 
 86 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 The other had been marshaling her forces like a 
 general during the last few minutes, and she felt 
 just then as if there were nothing left but the rout. 
 "All that I tell you, you may see for yourself," she 
 said. "I don t ask you to take anything on my 
 word, for you have only to look in the glass and 
 compare yourself with the women you meet. You 
 will find that all men will turn their eyes upon you 
 when you enter a room." 
 
 Helen did not consider it necessary to debate that 
 question. "You have invited some rich man to meet 
 me at your house?" she asked. 
 
 "I was going to say nothing to you about it at 
 first," said the other, "and let you find out. But I 
 thought afterwards that it would be better to tell 
 you, so that you could manage for yourself. I have 
 invited all the men whom Mr. Roberts and I thought 
 it would be best for you to meet." 
 
 Helen gazed at her aunt silently for a moment, 
 and then she broke into a nervous laugh. "A regu 
 lar exposition!" she said; "and you ll bring them 
 out one by one and put them through their paces, 
 won t you, Auntie? And have them labeled for 
 comparison, so that I can tell just what stocks 
 they own and how they stand on the Street ! Do 
 you remember the suitor in Moliere? Vai quinzc 
 mille livres de rente; fai le corps sain; j ai des beaux 
 dentsr " 
 
 It was a flash of Helen s old merriment, but it 
 did not seem so natural as usual, even to her. She 
 forced herself to laugh, for she was growing more 
 and more excited and uneasy. 
 
 87 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "My dear," said Aunt Polly, "please do not begin 
 making fun again." 
 
 "But you must let me joke a little, Auntie," said 
 the girl. "I have never been serious for so long 
 before." 
 
 "You ought to be serious about it, my dear." 
 
 "I will," said Helen. "I have really listened at 
 tentively; you must tell me all about these rich 
 men that I am to meet, and what I am to do. I 
 hope I am not the only girl." 
 
 "Of course not, was the response; "I would not 
 do anything ridiculous. I have invited a number 
 of other girls but they won t trouble you in the 
 least." 
 
 "No," said Helen. "I am not afraid of other girls; 
 but what s to be done? It s a sort of house-warm 
 ing, I suppose? 
 
 "Yes," was the reply, "I suppose so, for I only 
 came down last week myself. I have asked about 
 twenty people for a week or two; they all know 
 each other, more or less, so there won t be much 
 formality. We shall amuse ourselves with coach 
 ing and golf, and anything else we please; and of 
 course there will be plenty of music in the evening." 
 
 Helen smiled at the significant tone of her aunt s 
 voice. "Are the people there now? she asked. 
 
 "Those who live anywhere in the neighborhood 
 are; most of the men will be down on the afternoon 
 train, in time for dinner." 
 
 "And tell me who are the men, Auntie?" 
 
 "I m afraid I won t have time," said Mrs. Eoberts f 
 glancing out of the carriage. "We are too near 
 
 88 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 home. But I will tell you about one of them, if you 
 like." 
 
 "The king-bee?" laughed Helen. "Is there a king- 
 bee?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Roberts; "there is. At any rate, 
 my husband and I think he is, and we are anxious 
 to see what you think. His name is Gerald Harri 
 son, and he comes from Cincinnati. 
 
 "Oh, dear," said Helen, "I hate to meet men from 
 the West. He must be a pork-packer, or something 
 horrible." 
 
 "No," said the other, "he is a railroad president." 
 
 "And why do you think he s the king-bee; is he 
 very rich?" 
 
 "He is worth about ten million dollars," said 
 Aunt Polly. 
 
 Helen gazed at her wildly. "Ten million dollars!" 
 she gasped. 
 
 "Yes," said the other; "about that, probably a 
 little more. Mr. Roberts knows all about his 
 affairs." 
 
 Helen was staring into her aunt s face. "Tell 
 me," she asked, very nervously indeed. "Tell me, 
 honestly!" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Is that the man you are bringing me here to 
 meet?" 
 
 "Yes, Helen," said the other quietly. 
 
 The girl s hands were clasped tightly together 
 just then. "Aunt Polly," she asked, "what kind of 
 a man is he? I will not marry a bad man!" 
 
 "A bad man, child? How ridiculous! Do you 
 suppose I would ask you to marry a bad man, if he 
 
 89 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 owned all New York? I want you to be happy. Mr. 
 Harrison is a man who has made his own fortune, 
 and he is a man of tremendous energy. Everyone 
 is obliged to respect him." 
 
 "But he must be old, Auntie." 
 
 "He is very young, Helen, only about forty." 
 
 "Dear me," said the girl, "I could never marry 
 a man as old as forty; and then, I d have to go out 
 West!" 
 
 "Mr. Harrison has come to New York to live," 
 was the other s reply. "He has just bought a really 
 magnificent country seat about ten miles from here 
 the old Everson place, if you remember it; and he 
 is negotiating for a house near ours in the city. 
 My husband and I both agreed, Helen, that if you 
 could make Mr. Harrison fall in love with you it 
 would be all that we could desire." 
 
 "That is not the real problem," Helen said, gazing 
 out of the carriage with a frightened look upon her 
 face; "it is whether I can fall in love with him. 
 Aunt Polly, it is dreadful to me to think of marry 
 ing; I don t want to marry! I don t care who the 
 man is!" 
 
 "We ll see about that later on," said the other, 
 smiling reassuringly, and at the same time putting 
 her arm about the girl ; "there is no hurry, my love, 
 and no one has the least thought of asking you to 
 do what you do not want to do. But a chance like 
 this does not come often to any girl, my dear. Mr. 
 Harrison is in every way a desirable man." 
 
 "But he s stupid, Aunt Polly, I know he s stupid! 
 All self-made men are; they tell you about how they 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 made themselves, and what wonderful things they 
 have made!" 
 
 k You must of course not expect to find Mr. Har 
 rison as cultured as yourself, Helen," was the reply; 
 "his education has been that of the world, and not 
 of books. But nobody thinks less of a man for that 
 in the world; the most one can ask is that he does 
 not make pretenses. And he is very far from 
 stupid, I assure you, or he would not have been 
 what he is." 
 
 "I suppose not," said Helen, weakly. 
 
 "And, besides," observed Aunt Polly, laughing to 
 cheer the girl up, "I assure you it doesn t make any 
 difference. My husband makes no pretense to be 
 ing a wit, or a musician, or anything like that; he s 
 just a plain, sensible man, but we get along as 
 happily as you could wish. We each of us go our 
 own way, and understand each other perfectly." 
 
 "So I m to marry a plain, sensible man?" asked 
 the girl, apparently not much comforted by the 
 observation. 
 
 "A plain, sensible man with ten million dollars, 
 my dear," said Aunt Polly, "who adores you and 
 has nothing to do with his money but to let you 
 make yourself happy and glorious with it? But 
 don t worry yourself, my child, because the first 
 thing for you to feel is that if you don t like him 
 you need not take him. It all rests upon you; he 
 won t be here till after the rest, till the evening 
 train, so you can have time to think it over and 
 calculate whether ten million dollars will buy any 
 thing you want." And Mrs. Roberts laughed. 
 
 Then the carriage having passed within the gates 
 
 91 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of her home, she kissed the girl upon her cheek. 
 "By the way," she added, "if you want to meet a 
 romantic person to offset Mr. Harrison, I ll tell you 
 about Mr. Howard. I haven t mentioned him, 
 have I?" 
 
 "I never heard of him/ said Helen. 
 
 "It s a real romance," said the other. "You 
 didn t suppose that your sensible old auntie could 
 have a romance, did you?" 
 
 "Tell me about it," laughed Helen. 
 
 The carriage was driving up the broad avenue 
 that led to the Roberts house; it was a drive of a 
 minute or two, however, and so Aunt Polly had 
 time for a hasty explanation. 
 
 "It was over twenty years ago," she said, "before 
 your mother was married, and when our family had 
 a camp up in the Adirondacks; there were only two 
 others near us, and in each of them there was a 
 young man about my age. We three were great 
 friends for three or four years, but we ve never 
 seen each other since till a short while ago." 
 
 "And one of them is this man?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Roberts; "his name is David 
 Howard; I met him quite by accident the other day, 
 and recognized him. He lives all alone, in the 
 winter in New York somewheres, and in the sum 
 mer up at the same place in the mountains; he s the 
 most romantic man you ever met, and I know you ll 
 find him interesting. He s a poet, I fancy, or a 
 musician at any rate, and he s a very great scholar." 
 
 "Is he rich too?" asked the girl, laughing. 
 
 "I fancy not," was the reply, "but I can t tell; 
 he lives very plainly." 
 
 92 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Aren t you afraid I ll fall in love with him, 
 Auntie?" 
 
 "No," said the other, smiling to herself; "I m not 
 worrying about that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Wait till you see him, my dear," was the reply; 
 "if you choose him for a husband I ll give my con 
 sent." 
 
 "That sounds mysterious," observed the girl, 
 gazing at her aunt; "tell me, is he here now?" 
 
 "Yes," said Aunt Polly; .^he s been here a day or 
 two; but I don t think you ll see him at dinner, be 
 cause he has been feeling unwell to-day; he may 
 be down a while this evening, for I ve been telling 
 him about you, and he s anxious to see you. You 
 must be nice to him, Helen, and try to feel as sorry 
 for him as I do." 
 
 "Sorry for him?" echoed the girl with a start. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, he is an invalid, with some very 
 dreadful affliction." 
 
 And Helen stared at her aunt. "An affliction!" 
 she cried. "Aunt Polly, that is horrible! What in 
 the world did you invite an invalid for at this time, 
 with all the other people? I hate invalids!" 
 
 "I had asked him before," was the apologetic 
 reply, "and so I couldn t help it. I had great diffi 
 culty in getting him to promise to come anyway, 
 for he s a very strange, solitary man. But I wanted 
 to have my little romance, and renew our acquaint 
 ance, and this was the only time the third party 
 could come." 
 
 "Oh, the third one is here too?" 
 
 "He will be in a day or two." 
 
 93 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "His name is Lieutenant Maynard, and he s in the 
 navy; he s stationed at Brooklyn just now, but he 
 expects to get leave for a while." 
 
 "That is a little better," Helen remarked, as the 
 carriage was drawing up in front of the great 
 house. "I d marry a naval officer." 
 
 "No," laughed Aunt Polly; "he leaves a wife and 
 some children in Brooklyn. We three are going to 
 keep to ourselves and talk about old times and what 
 has happened to us since then, and so you young 
 folks will not be troubled by us." 
 
 "I hope you will," said the other, "for I can t 
 ever be happy with invalids. 
 
 And there, as the carriage door was opened, the 
 conversation ended abruptly. When Helen had 
 sprung out she found that there were six or eight 
 people upon the piazza, to whom the excitement of 
 being introduced drove from her mind for a time 
 all thoughts which her aunt s words had brought. 
 
 -4-J-.E 
 
 
 94 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 "If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me, 
 Without my stir." 
 
 MOST of the people whom Helen met upon her ar 
 rival were of her own sex, so that she did not feel 
 called upon to make special exertions to please 
 them; but she was naturally cheerful and happy 
 with everyone, and the other matters of which Mrs. 
 Roberts had talked took on such vast proportions 
 before her mind that it was a relief to her to put 
 them aside and enjoy herself for a while in her 
 usual way. Helen was glad that most of the men 
 were to arrive later, so that she might make her 
 appearance before them under the most favorable 
 circumstances. When she heard the distant whistle 
 of the afternoon train a couple of hours later, it 
 was with that thought that she retired to her room 
 to rest before dressing. 
 
 Aunt Polly, following her plan of accustoming 
 the girl to a proper style of living, had engaged 
 a maid to attend her during her stay; and Helen 
 found therefore that her trunks were unpacked and 
 everything in order. It was a great relief to her to 
 be rid of all care, and she took off her dress and 
 flung herself down upon the bed to think. 
 
 Helen had imbided during her Sunday-school days 
 the usual formulas of dogmatic religion, but upon 
 
 95 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 matters of morality her ideas were of the vaguest 
 possible description. The guide of her life had 
 always been her instinct for happiness, her "genial 
 sense of youth." She had never formulated any 
 rule of life to herself, but that which she sought 
 was joy, primarily for herself, and incidentally for 
 other people, because unhappy people were disturb 
 ing (unless it were possible to avoid them). In de 
 bating within herself the arguments which her aunt 
 had brought before her mind, it was that principle 
 chiefly by which she tested them. 
 
 To the girl s eager nature, keenly sensitive to 
 pleasure and greedy for it, the prospect so suddenly 
 flung wide before her eyes was so intoxicating that 
 again and again as she thought of it it made her 
 tremble and burn. So far as Helen could see at that 
 moment, a marriage with this Mr. Harrison would 
 mean the command of every source of happiness; 
 and upon a scale so magnificent, so belittling of 
 everything she had known before, that she shrank 
 from it as something impossible and unnatural. 
 Again and again she buried her heated brow in her 
 hands and muttered: "I ought to have known it 
 before! I ought to have had time to realize it." 
 
 That which restrained the girl from welcoming 
 such an opportunity, from clasping it to her in 
 ecstasy and flinging herself madly into the whirl 
 of pleasure it held out, was not so much her con 
 science and the ideals which she had formed more 
 or less vaguely from the novels and poems she had 
 read, as the instinct of her maidenhood, which 
 made her shrink from the thought of marriage with 
 a man whom she did not love. So strong was this 
 
KIXG MIDAS 
 
 feeling in her that at first she felt that she could 
 not even bear to be introduced to him with such an 
 idea in her mind. 
 
 It was Aunt Polly s wisdom and diplomacy which 
 finally overcame her scruples enough to persuade 
 her to that first step; Helen kept thinking of her 
 aunt s words that no one wanted to compel her to 
 marry the man, that she might do just as she chose. 
 She argued that it was foolish to worry herself, or 
 to be ill at ease. She might see what sort of a man 
 he was; if he fell in love with her it would do no 
 harm, Helen was not long in discovering by the 
 increased pace of her pulses that she would find it 
 exciting to have everyone know that a multi-mil 
 lionaire was in love with her. "As for the rest," 
 she said to herself, "we ll see when the time comes," 
 and knew not that one who goes to front his life s 
 temptation with that resolution is a mariner who 
 leaves the steering of his vessel to the tempest. 
 
 She had stilled her objection by such arguments, 
 and was just beginning to feel the excitement of the 
 prospect once more, when the maid knocked at the 
 door and asked to know if mademoiselle were ready 
 to dress for dinner. And mademoiselle arose and 
 bathed her face and arms and was once more her 
 old refreshed and rejoicing self, ready for that 
 mysterious and wonderful process which was to 
 send her out an hour or two later a vision of perfe.-t 
 ness, compounded of the hues of the rose and the 
 odors of evening, with the new and unutterable 
 magic that is all the woman s own. Besides the 
 prospects her aunt had spoken of, there were reasons 
 enough why Helen should be radiant, for it was her 
 
 7 97 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 first recognized appearance in high society; ana so 
 she sat in front of the tall mirror and criticised 
 every detail of the coiffure which the maid pre 
 pared, and eyed by turns her gleaming neck and 
 shoulders and the wonderful dress, as yet unworn, 
 which shone from the bed through its covering of 
 tissue paper; and was all the time so filled with 
 joy and delight that it was a pleasure to be near 
 her. Soon Aunt Polly, clad in plain black as a sign 
 that she retired in favor of Helen, came in to assist 
 and superintend the toilet. So serious at the task, 
 and so filled with a sense of its importance and the 
 issues that were staked upon it was she and the 
 maid also, that one would not dare think of the 
 humor of the situation if Helen herself had not 
 broken the spell by declaring that she felt like an 
 Ashantee warrior being decked out for battle with 
 plumes and war paint, or like Kinaldo, or Amadis 
 donning his armor. 
 
 And Helen was in fact going to war, a war for 
 which nature has been training woman since the 
 first fig-tree grew. She carried a bow strong as the 
 one of Ulysses, which no man could draw, and an 
 arrow sharp as the sunbeam and armed with a 
 barb; for a helmet, beside her treasure of golden 
 hair, she wore one rose, set there with the art that 
 conceals art, so that it was no longer a red rose, 
 but one more bright perfection that had come to 
 ripeness about the glowing maiden. Her dress was 
 of the same color, a color which when worn upon 
 a woman is a challenge, crying abroad that here is 
 perfection beyond envy and beyond praise. 
 
 When the last touch was finished and Helen 
 
 98 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 upon herself, with her bare shoulders and 
 arms and her throat so soft and white, she knew 
 that she was, compared to all about her, a vision 
 from another world. Chiefest of all, she knew that 
 neither arms and shoulders, nor robe, nor gleaming 
 hair, would ever be thought of when once the face 
 that smiled upon her with its serene perfectness 
 had caught the eye; she knew that as usual, men 
 must start when they saw her, and never take their 
 eyes from her. The thought filled her with an 
 exulting consciousness of power, and reared her 
 form with a new dignity, and made her chest heave 
 and her cheeks burn with yet a new beauty. 
 
 When everything was ready, Aunt Polly s hus 
 band was called in to gaze upon her. A little man 
 was Aunt Polly s husband, with black side whiskers 
 and a head partly bald; a most quiet and unob 
 trusive person, looking just what he had been rep 
 resented, a "plain, sensible man," who attended 
 to his half of the family affairs, and left the other 
 half to his wife. He gazed upon Helen and blinked 
 once or twice, as if blinded by so much beauty, and 
 then took the end of her fingers very lightly in his 
 and pronounced her "absolutely perfect." "And, 
 my dear," he added, "it s after seven, so perhaps 
 we d best descend." 
 
 So he led the girl down to her triumph, to the 
 handsome parlors of the house where eight or ten 
 men were strolling about. It was quite exciting to 
 Helen to meet them, for they were all strangers, 
 and Aunt Polly had apparently considered Mr. Har 
 rison of so much importance that she had said 
 
 99 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 nothing about the others, leaving her niece at lib 
 erty to make what speculations she pleased. 
 
 It was a brilliant company which was seated in 
 the dining room a short while later. As it was as 
 sembled in Helen s honor, Aunt Polly had taken 
 care to bring those who would please the girl, and 
 represent high life and luxury at its best; all of 
 the guests were young, and therefore perfect. The 
 members of the "smart set," when they have passed 
 the third decade, are apt to show signs of weariness; 
 a little of their beauty and health is gone, and some 
 of their animation, and all of their joy, so that 
 one may be led to ask himself if there be not really 
 something wrong about their views and ways of 
 living. When they are young, however, they repre 
 sent the possibilities of the human animal in all 
 things external. In some wonderful way known 
 only to themselves they have managed to manipu 
 late the laws of men so as to make men do for them 
 all the hard and painful tasks of life, so that they 
 have no care but to make themselves as beautiful 
 and as clever and as generally excellent as selfish 
 ness can be. Helen, of course, was not in the least 
 troubled about the selfishness, and she was quite 
 satisfied with externals. She saw about her perfect 
 toilets and perfect manners; she saw everyone as 
 happy as she liked everyone to be; and the result 
 was that her spirits took fire, and she was clever 
 and fascinating beyond even herself. She carried 
 everything before her, and performed the real feat 
 of dominating the table by her beauty and clever 
 ness, without being either presumptuous or vain. 
 Aunt Polly replied to the delighted looks of her 
 
 100 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 husband at the other end of the table, and the two 
 only wished that Mr. Harrison had been there then. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Helen had forgotten Mr. 
 Harrison entirely, and he did not come back to her 
 mind until the dinner was almost over, when sud 
 denly she heard the bell ring. It was just the time 
 that he was due to arrive, and so she knew that she 
 would see him in another half hour. In the exulta 
 tion of the present moment all of her hesitation was 
 gone, and she was as ready to meet him as her aunt 
 could have wished. 
 
 When the party rose a few minutes later and 
 went into the parlors again, Helen was the first to 
 enter, upon the arm of her neighbor. She was think 
 ing of Mr. Harrison; and as she glanced about her, 
 she could not keep from giving a slight start. Far 
 down at the other end of the room she had caught 
 sight of the figure of a man, and her first thought 
 had been that it must be the millionaire. His frail, 
 slender form was more than half concealed by the 
 cushions of the sofa upon which he was seated, but 
 even so, Helen could discover that he was a slight 
 cripple. 
 
 The man rose as the party entered, and Aunt 
 Polly went towards him; she apparently expected 
 her niece to follow and be introduced to the 
 stranger, but in the meantime the truth had oc 
 curred to Helen, that it must be the Mr. Howard 
 she had been told of; she turned to one side with 
 her partner, and began remarking the pictures in 
 the room. 
 
 When she found opportunity, she glanced over 
 and saw that the man had seated himself on the 
 
 101 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 sofa and was talking to Mrs. Roberts. He looked, 
 as Helen thought, all the invalid her aunt had de 
 scribed him to be, for his face was white and very 
 wan, so that it made her shudder. "Dear me!" she 
 exclaimed to herself, "I don t think such a man 
 ought to go into public." And she turned reso 
 lutely away, and set herself to the task of forget 
 ting him, which she very easily did. 
 
 A merry party was soon gathered about her, re 
 joicing in the glory of her presence, and listening to 
 the stories which she told of her adventures in 
 Europe. Helen kept the circle well in hand that 
 way, and was equally ready when one of the young 
 ladies turned the conversation off upon French 
 poetry in the hope of eclipsing her. Thus her ani 
 mation continued without rest until Mrs. Roberts 
 escorted one of the guests to the piano to sing for 
 them. 
 
 "She s keeping me for Mr. Harrison," thought 
 Helen, laughing mischievously to herself; "and I 
 suppose she s picked out the worst musician first, 
 so as to build up a climax." 
 
 It seemed as if that might have been the plan for 
 a fact; the performer sang part of Gluck s "J ai 
 perdu mon Eurydice," in strange French, and in a 
 mournful voice which served very well to display 
 the incompatibility of the melody and the words. 
 As it happened, however, Mistress Helen heard not 
 a word of the song, for it had scarcely begun before 
 she turned her eyes towards the doorway and 
 caught sight of a figure that drove all other ideas 
 from her mind. Mr. Harrison had come at last. 
 
 He was a tall, dignified man, and Helen s first 
 102 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 feeling was of relief to discover that he was neither 
 coarse-looking, nor even plain. He had rather too 
 bright a complexion, and rather too large a sandy 
 mustache, but his clothes fitted him, and he seemed 
 to be at ease as he glanced about him and waited in 
 the doorway for the young lady at the piano to 
 finish. While the faint applause was still sounding 
 he entered with Mrs. Roberts, moving slowly across 
 the room. "And now!" thought Helen, "now for it!" 
 
 As she expected, the two came towards her, and 
 Mr. Harrison was presented; Helen, who was on the 
 watch with all her faculties, decided that he bore 
 that trial tolerably, for while his admiration of 
 course showed itself, he did not stare, and he was 
 not embarrassed. 
 
 "I am a little late, I fear," he said; "have I 
 missed much of the music?" 
 
 "No," said Helen, "that was the first selection." 
 
 "I am glad of that," said the other. 
 
 According to the laws which regulate the drift 
 ing of conversation, it was next due that Helen 
 should ask if he were fond of singing; and then 
 that he should answer that he was very fond of it, 
 which he did. 
 
 "Mrs. Roberts tells me you are a skillful musi 
 cian," he added; "I trust that I shall hear you?" 
 
 Helen of course meant to play, and had devoted 
 some thought to the selection of her program; 
 therefore she answered: "Possibly; we shall see 
 by and by." 
 
 "I am told that you have been studying in Ger 
 many," was the next observation. "Do you like 
 Germany?" 
 
 103 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Very much, 7 said Helen. "Only they made me 
 work very hard at music, and at everything else." 
 
 "That is perhaps why you are a good player," 
 said Mr. Harrison. 
 
 "You ought to wait until you hear me," the girl 
 replied, following his example of choosing the most 
 obvious thing to say. 
 
 "I fear I am not much of a critic/ said the other. 
 
 And so the conversation drifted on for several 
 minutes, Mr. Harrison s remarks being so very un 
 inspiring that his companion could find no way to 
 change the subject to anything worth talking about. 
 
 "Evidently," the girl thought, during a moment 
 ary lull, "he has learned all the rules of talking, 
 and that s why he s at ease. But dear me, what an 
 awful prospect! It would kill me to have to do this 
 often. But then, to be sure I shan t see him in the 
 day time, and in the evenings we should not be at 
 home. One doesn t have to be too intimate with 
 one s husband, I suppose. And then " 
 
 "I think," said Mr. Harrison, "that your aunt is 
 coming to ask you to play." 
 
 That was Aunt Polly s mission, for a fact, and 
 Helen was much relieved, for she had found herself 
 quite helpless to lift the conversation out of the 
 slough of despond into which it had fallen; she 
 wanted a little time to collect her faculties and 
 think of something clever to start with again. 
 When in answer to the request of Aunt Polly she 
 arose and went to the piano, the crushed feeling of 
 course left her, and her serenity returned ; for Helen 
 was at home at the piano, knowing that she could 
 do whatever she chose, and do it without effort. It 
 
 104 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 was a stimulus to her faculties to perceive that a 
 general hush had fallen upon the room, and that 
 every eye was upon her; as she sat down, there 
 fore, all her old exultation was back. 
 
 She paused a moment to collect herself, and gave 
 one easy glance down the room at the groups of 
 people. She caught a glimpse as she did so of Mr. 
 Howard, who was still seated upon the sofa, lean 
 ing forward and resting his chin in his hand and 
 fixing his eyes upon her. At another time the sight 
 of his wan face might perhaps have annoyed the 
 girl, but she was carried beyond that just then by 
 the excitement of the moment; her glance came 
 back to the piano, and feeling that everyone was 
 attentive and expectant, she began. 
 
 Helen numbered in her repertoire a good many 
 pieces that were hopelessly beyond the technic 
 of the average salon pianist, and she had chosen the 
 most formidable with which to astonish her hear* 
 ers that evening. She had her full share of that 
 pleasure which people get from concerning them 
 selves with great things: a pleasure which is re 
 sponsible for much of the reading, and especially 
 the discussing, of the world s great poets, and which 
 brings forth many lofty sentiments from the numer 
 ous class of persons who combine idealism with 
 vanity. Helen s selection was the first movement 
 of the "Sonata Appassionata," and she was filled 
 with a pleasing sense of majesty and importance as 
 she began. She liked the first theme especially be 
 cause it was striking and dignified and never failed 
 to attract attention; and in what followed there 
 was room for every shading of tone, from delicate 
 
 105 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 softness that showed much feeling and sympathy, 
 to stunning fortissimos that made everyone stare. 
 The girl was relieved of any possible fear by the 
 certainty that the composition was completely be 
 yond her hearers understanding, and so she soon 
 lost herself in her task, and, as her excitement 
 mounted, played with splendid spirit and abandon. 
 Her calculations proved entirely well made, for 
 when she stopped she received a real ovation, hav 
 ing genuinely astonished her hearers; and she 
 crossed the room, beaming radiantly upon everyone 
 and acknowledging their compliments, more as 
 sured of triumph than ever before. To cap the 
 climax, when she reached her seat she found Mr. 
 Harrison betraying completely his profound ad 
 miration, his gaze being riveted upon the glowing 
 girl as she sat down beside him. 
 
 "Miss Davis," he said, with evident sincerity, 
 "that was really wonderful!" 
 
 "Thank you very much, 7 said Helen, radiantly. 
 
 "It was the most splendid piano-playing I have 
 ever heard in my life," the other went on. "Pray 
 what was it that you played something new?" 
 
 "Oh, no," was the answer, "it is very old indeed." 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Harrison, "those old composers 
 were very great men." 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, demurely. 
 
 "I was astonished to see with what ease you 
 played," the other continued, "and yet so marvel- 
 ously fast! That must be a fearfully hard piece of 
 music to play." 
 
 "Yes, it is," said Helen; "but it is quite exciting," 
 she added, fanning herself and laughing. 
 
 106 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Helen was at the top of her being just then, and 
 in perfect command of things; she had no idea of 
 letting herself be dragged down into the common 
 place again. "I think it s about time I was fasci 
 nating him," she said to herself, and she started in, 
 full of merriment and life. Taking her last remark 
 as a cue, she told him funny stories about the eccen 
 tricities of the sonata s great composer, how he 
 would storm and rage up and down his room like a 
 madman., and how he hired a boy to pump water 
 over his head by the hour, in case of emergency. 
 
 Mr. Harrison remarked that it was funny how 
 all musicians were such queer chaps, but even that 
 did not discourage Helen. She rattled on, quite as 
 supremely captivating as she had been at the din 
 ner table, and as she saw that her companion was 
 yielding to her spell, the color mounted to her 
 cheeks and her blood flowed faster yet. 
 
 It is of the nature of such flame to feed itself, and 
 Helen grew the more exulting as she perceived her 
 success, and consequently all the more irresistible. 
 The eyes of the man were soon riveted upon the 
 gorgeous vision of loveliness before him, and the 
 contagion of the girl s animation showed itself 
 even in him, for he brightened a little, and was 
 clever enough to startle himself. It was a new 
 delight and stimulus to Helen to perceive it, and she 
 was soon swept away in much the same kind of 
 nervous delight as her phantasy with the thunder 
 storm. The sofa upon which the two were seated 
 had been somewhat apart from the rest, and so they 
 had nothing to disturb them. A short half hour fled 
 by, during which Helen s daring animation ruled 
 
 107 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 everything, and at the end of which Mr. Harrison 
 was quite oblivious to everything about him. 
 
 There were others, however, who were watching 
 the affair; the keen-eyed Aunt Polly was compre 
 hending all with joy, but she was as ever calculating 
 and prudent, and she knew that Helen s monopoly 
 of Mr. Harrison would soon become unpleasantly 
 conspicuous, especially as she had so far introduced 
 him to no one else. She felt that little would be 
 lost by breaking the spell, for what the girl was 
 doing then she might do any time she chose; and 
 so after waiting a while longer she made her way 
 unobtrusively over to them and joined their con 
 versation. 
 
 Helen of course understood her aunt s meaning, 
 and acquiesced; she kept on laughing and talking 
 for a minute or two more, and then at a lull in the 
 conversation she exclaimed: "But I ve been keep 
 ing Mr. Harrison here talking to me, and nobody 
 else has seen anything of him." And so Mr. Harri 
 son, inwardly anathematizing the rest of the com 
 pany, was compelled to go through a long series of 
 handshakings, and finally to be drawn into a group 
 of young persons whose conversation seemed to him 
 the most inane he had ever heard in his life. 
 
 In the meantime someone else was giving a piano 
 selection, one which Helen had never heard, but 
 which sounded to every one like a finger exercise 
 after her own meteoric flight; the girl sat half 
 listening to it and half waiting for her aunt to re 
 turn, which Mrs. Roberts finally did, beaming with 
 gratitude. 
 
 108 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "My love/ she whispered, "you are an angel; you 
 have done better than I ever dreamed of!" 
 
 And Helen felt her blood give a sudden leap that 
 was not quite pleasant; the surging thoughts that 
 were in her mind at that moment brought back the 
 nervous trembling she had felt in the carriage, so 
 that she leaned against the sofa for support. 
 
 "Now listen, my dear," the other went swiftly on, 
 perhaps divining the girl s state, "I want you to do 
 a great favor for me." 
 
 "Was not that for you, Auntie?" asked Helen, 
 weakly. 
 
 "No, my dear, that was for yourself. But 
 this 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "I want you to come and talk to my David How 
 ard a little while." 
 
 The girl gave a start, and turned a little paler. 
 "Aunt Polly," she exclaimed, "not now! He looks 
 so ill, it makes me nervous even to see him." 
 
 "But, Helen, my dear, that is nonsense, was the 
 reply. "Mr. Howard is one of the most interesting 
 men you ever met. He knows more than all the 
 people in this room together, and you will forget he 
 is an invalid when you have talked to him a while." 
 
 Helen was, or wished to think herself, upon the 
 heights of happiness just then, and she shrunk 
 more than ever from anything that was wretched. 
 "Not now, Aunt Polly," she said, faintly. "Please 
 wait until " 
 
 "But, my dear," said Aunt Polly, "now is the 
 very time; you will wish to be with Mr. Harrison 
 
 109 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 again soon. And you must meet Mr. Howard, for 
 that is what he came for." 
 
 "I suppose then I ll have to, said Helen, knit 
 ting her brows; "I ll stroll over in a minute or two." 
 
 "All right," said the other; "and please try to 
 get acquainted with him, Helen, for I want you to 
 like him." 
 
 "I will do my best," said the girl. "He won t talk 
 about his ailments, will he?" 
 
 "No," said the other, laughing, "I fancy not. 
 Talk to him about music he s a great musician, 
 you know." 
 
 And as her aunt left the room, Helen stole a side 
 glance at the man, who was alone upon the sofa 
 just then. His chin was still resting in his hand, 
 and he was looking at Helen as before. As she 
 glanced at him thus he seemed to be all head, or 
 rather all forehead, for his brow was very high 
 and white, and was set off by heavy black hair. 
 
 "He does look interesting," the girl thought, as 
 she forced a smile and walked across the room; her 
 aunt entered at the same time, as if by accident, 
 and the two approached Mr. Howard. As he saw 
 them coming he rose, with some effort as Helen 
 noticed, and with a very slight look of pain; it 
 cost her some resolution to give the man her hand. 
 In a minute or two more, however, they were 
 seated alone upon the sofa, Aunt Polly having 
 gone off with the remark to Helen that she had 
 made Mr. Howard promise to talk to her about 
 music, and that they both knew too much about it 
 for her. "You must tell Helen all about her play 
 ing," she added to him, laughingly. 
 
 no 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 And then Helen, to carry on the conversation, 
 added, "I should be very much pleased if you 
 would." 
 
 "I am afraid it is an ungracious task Mrs. Rob 
 erts has chosen me," the man answered, smiling. 
 "Critics are not a popular race." 
 
 "It depends upon the critics," said Helen. "They 
 must be sincere." 
 
 "That is just where they get into trouble," was 
 the response. 
 
 4k lt looks as if he were going to be chary with 
 his praise/ thought Helen, feeling just the least 
 bit uncomfortable. She thought for a moment, and 
 then said, not without truth, "You pique my curi 
 osity, Mr. Howard." 
 
 "My criticism could not be technical," said the 
 other, smiling, again, "for I am not a pianist." 
 
 "You play some other instrument?" asked Helen; 
 afterwards she added, mischievously, "or are you 
 just a critic?" 
 
 "I play the violin," the man answ r ered. 
 
 "You are going to play for us this evening?" 
 
 "No," said the other, "I fear I shall not." 
 
 "Why not?" Helen inquired. 
 
 "I have not been feeling very well to-day," was 
 the response. "But I have promised your aunt to 
 play some evening; we had quite a long dispute." 
 
 "You do not like to play in public?" asked Helen. 
 
 The question was a perfectly natural one, but it 
 happened unfortunately that as the girl asked it 
 her glance rested upon the figure of her companion. 
 The man chanced to look at her at the same instant, 
 and she saw in a flash that her thought had been 
 
 in 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 misread. Helen colored with the most painful 
 mortification; but Mr. Howard gave, to her sur 
 prise, no sign of offense. 
 
 "No, not in general," he said, with simple dignity. 
 "I believe that I am much better equipped as a 
 listener." 
 
 Helen had never seen more perfect self-possession 
 than that, and she felt quite humbled. 
 
 It would have been difficult to guess the age of 
 the man beside her, but Helen noticed that his hair 
 was slightly gray. A closer view had only served 
 to strengthen her first impression of him, that he 
 was all head, and she found herself thinking that 
 if that had been all of him he might have been 
 handsome, tho in a strange, uncomfortable way. 
 The broad forehead seemed more prominent than 
 ever, and the dark eyes seemed fairly to shine from 
 beneath it. The rest of the face, tho wan, was as 
 powerful and massive as the brow, and seemed to 
 Helen, little used as she was to think of such things, 
 to indicate character as well as suffering. 
 
 "It looks a little like Arthur s, she thought. 
 
 This she had been noticing in the course of the 
 conversation; then, because her curiosity had really 
 been piqued, she brought back the original topic 
 again. "You have not told me about my playing," 
 she smiled, "and I wish for your opinion. I am very 
 vain, you know." (There is wisdom in avowing a 
 weakness which you wish others to think you do 
 not possess.) 
 
 "It gave me great pleasure to watch you, said 
 the man, after a moment. 
 
 "To watch me!" thought Helen. "That is a pal- 
 
 112 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 pable evasion. That is not criticising my music 
 itself," she said aloud, not showing that she was a 
 trifle annoyed. 
 
 "You have evidently been very well taught," said 
 the other, "unusually well; and you have a very 
 considerable technic." And Helen was only more 
 uncomfortable than ever; evidently the man would 
 have liked to add a "but to that sentence, and the 
 girl felt as if she had come near an icicle in the 
 course of her evening s triumph. However, she was 
 now still more curious to hear the rest of his opin 
 ion. Half convinced yet that it must be favorable 
 in the end, she said: 
 
 "I should not in the least mind your speaking 
 plainly; the admiration of people who do not un 
 derstand music I really do not care for." And then 
 as Mr. Howard fixed his deep, clear eyes upon her, 
 Helen involuntarily lowered hers a little. 
 
 "If you really want my opinion," said the other, 
 "you shall have it. But you must remember that it 
 is yourself who leads me to the bad taste of being 
 serious in company." 
 
 That last remark was in Helen s own style, and 
 she looked interested. For the rest, she felt that 
 she had gotten into grave trouble by her question; 
 but it was too late to retreat now. 
 
 "I will excuse you," she said. "I wish to know." 
 
 "Very well, then," said Mr. Howard; "the truth 
 is that I did not care for your selection." 
 
 Helen gave a slight start. "If that is all the 
 trouble, I need not worry/ she thought; and she 
 added easily, "The sonata is usually considered one 
 of Beethoven s very greatest works, Mr. Howard." 
 
 8 113 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I am aware of that," said the other; "but do you 
 know how Beethoven came to compose it?" 
 
 Helen had the happy feeling of a person of mod 
 erate resources when the conversation turns to one 
 of his specialties. "Yes," she said; "I have read 
 how he said So pocht das Schicksal auf die 
 Pforte. * Do you understand that, Mr. Howard?" 
 
 "Only partly," said the other, very gently; "do 
 you?" And Helen felt just then that she had 
 made a very awkward blunder indeed. 
 
 "Fate is a very dreadful thing to understand, 
 Miss Davis," the other continued, slowly. "When 
 one has heard the knock, he does not forget it, and 
 even the echo of it makes him tremble." 
 
 "I suppose then," said Helen, glibly, trying to 
 save herself, "that you think the sonata is too seri 
 ous to be played in public?" 
 
 "Not exactly," was the answer; "it depends upon 
 the circumstances. There are always three persons 
 concerned, you know. In this case, as you have 
 pardoned me for being serious, there is in the first 
 place the great genius with his sacred message; you 
 know how he learned that his life work was to be 
 ruined by deafness, and how he poured his agony 
 and despair into his greatest symphony, and into 
 this sonata. That is the first person, Miss Davis." 
 
 He paused for a moment; and Helen took a deep 
 breath, thinking that it was the strangest conver 
 sation she had ever been called upon to listen to 
 during an evening s merriment. Yet she did not 
 smile, for the man s deep, resonant voice fascinated 
 her. 
 
 "So knocks Fate upon the door. 
 114 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "And tin* second?" she asked. 
 
 The second," said Mr. Howard, turning his dark, 
 sunken eves full upon the girl, "is another man, 
 not a genius, hut one who has suffered, I fear, nearly 
 as much as one; a man who is very hungry for 
 beauty, and very impatient of insincerity, and who 
 is accustomed to look to the great masters of art 
 for all his help and courage." 
 
 Helen felt very uncomfortable indeed. 
 
 "Evidently," she said, "I am the third." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Howard, *the pianist is the third. 
 It is the pianist s place to take the great w r ork and 
 live it, and study it until he knows all that it 
 means; and then 
 
 "I don t think I took it quite so seriously as that," 
 said Helen, with a poor attempt at humility. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Howard, gravely; "it was made 
 evident to me that you did not by every note you 
 played; for you treated it as if it had been a Liszt 
 show-piece." 
 
 Helen was of course exceedingly angry at those 
 last blunt words; but she was too proud to let her 
 vexation be observed. She felt that she had got 
 ten herself into the difficulty by asking for serious 
 criticism, for deep in her heart she knew that it 
 was true, and that she would never have dared to 
 play the sonata had she known that a musician was 
 present. Helen felt completely humiliated, her few 
 minutes conversation having been enough to put 
 her out of humor with herself and all of her sur 
 roundings. There was a long silence, in which she 
 had time to think of what she had heard; she felt in 
 spite* of herself the folly of what she had done, and 
 
 US 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her whole triumph had suddenly come to look very 
 small indeed; yet, as was natural, she felt only 
 anger against the man who had broken the spell 
 and destroyed her illusion. She was only the more 
 irritated because she could not find any ground 
 upon which to blame him. 
 
 It would have been very difficult for her to have 
 carried on the conversation after that. Fortunately 
 a diversion occurred, the young person who had 
 last played having gone to the piano again, this 
 time with a young man and a violin. 
 
 "Aunt Polly has found someone to take your 
 place/ said Helen, forcing a smile. 
 
 "Yes," said the other, "she told me we had an 
 other violinist." 
 
 The violinist played Raff s Cavatina, a thing with 
 which fiddlers all love to exhibit themselves; he 
 played it just a little off the key at times, as Helen 
 might have told by watching her companion s eye 
 brows. She in the meantime was trying to recover 
 her equanimity, and to think what else she could 
 say. "He s the most uncomfortable man I ever 
 met," she thought with vexation. "I wish I d in 
 sisted upon keeping away from him !" 
 
 However, Helen was again relieved from her 
 plight by the fact that as the fiddler stopped and 
 the faint applause died out, she saw Mr. Harrison 
 coming towards her. Mr. Harrison had somehow 
 succeeded in extricating himself from the difficulty 
 in which his hostess had placed him, and had no 
 doubt guessed that Helen was no better pleased 
 with her new companion. 
 
 116 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "May I join you?" he asked, as lie neared the 
 sofa. 
 
 "Certainly," said Helen, smiling; she introduced 
 the two men, and Mr. Harrison sat down upon the 
 other side of the girl. Somehow or other he seemed 
 less endurable than he had just before, for his voice* 
 was not as soft as Mr. Howard s, and now that 
 Helen s animation was gone she was again aware 
 of the millionaire s very limited attainments. 
 
 "That was a very interesting thing we just 
 heard," he said. "What was it? Do you know?" 
 
 Helen answered that it was Raff s Cavatina. 
 
 "Cavatina?" said Mr. Harrison. "The name 
 sounds familiar; I may have heard it before." 
 
 Helen glanced nervously at Mr. Howard; but the 
 latter gave no sign. 
 
 "Mr. Howard is himself a violinist," she said. 
 "We must be careful what criticisms we make." 
 
 "Oh, I do not make any I do not know 
 enough about it," said the other, with heartiness 
 which somehow seemed to Helen to fail of deserv 
 ing the palliating epithet of "bluff. 
 
 "Mr. Howard has just been telling me about my 
 own playing," Helen went on, growing a little 
 desperate. 
 
 "I hope he admired it as much as I did," said 
 the unfortunate railroad-president. 
 
 "I m afraid he didn t," said Helen, trying to turn 
 the matter into a laugh. 
 
 "He didn t!" exclaimed Mr. Harrison, in surprise. 
 "Pray, why not?" 
 
 Tie asked the question of Mr. Howard, and Helen 
 shuddered, for fear he might begin with thai dread- 
 
 117 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ful "There are always three persons concerned, 
 you know." But the man merely said, very quietly, 
 "My criticism was of rather a technical nature, Mr. 
 Harrison. 
 
 "I m sure, for my part I thought her playing 
 wonderful," said the gentleman from Cincinnati, 
 to which the other did not reply. 
 
 Helen felt herself between two fires and her vex 
 ation was increasing every moment; yet, try as she 
 might, she could not think of anything to change 
 the subject, and it was fortunate that the watchful 
 Aunt Polly was on hand to save her. Mrs. Roberts 
 was too diplomatic a person not to see the unwis 
 dom of putting Mr. Harrison in a position where 
 his deficiencies must be so very apparent, and so 
 she came over, determined to carry one of the two 
 men away. She was relieved of the trouble by the 
 fact that, as she came near, Mr. Howard rose, again 
 with some pain as it seemed to Helen, and asked the 
 girl to excuse him. "I have been feeling quite ill 
 to-day," he explained. 
 
 Helen, as she saw him walk away with Mrs. Rob 
 erts, sank back with a sigh which was only half 
 restrained. "A very peculiar person," said Mr. 
 Harrison, who was clever enough to divine her 
 vexation." 
 
 "Yes," said the girl, "very, indeed." 
 
 "He seemed to be lecturing you about something, 
 from what I saw," added the other. The remark 
 was far from being in the best taste, but it pleased 
 Helen, because it went to justify her to herself, 
 and at the same time offered her an opportunity 
 to vent her feelings. 
 
 118 
 

 
 
 
 
ful ; ied, 
 
 tly. 
 Mr. 
 
 : I thought her playing 
 _M iii ieman from Cincinnati, 
 
 y- 
 
 i two fires and her vox- 
 
 >-ry moment; yet, try as she 
 
 I noi think of i Change 
 
 fortunai hful 
 
 iiand to save her. Mrs. Roberts 
 
 11 not t< 1111 wis- 
 
 Mr. Harrison in a po- -hero 
 
 must It- v appan ;if. and so 
 
 : *MUF 
 
 icved of the trouble by the 
 
 Mr. Howard rose, again 
 
 ; io Helen, and asked the 
 
 < been i quite ill 
 
 vvay with Mrs. Rob- 
 
 -. hich was only half 
 
 person, said Mr. 
 
 divine her 
 
 "H* liing, 
 
 from what 
 was far froi: 
 
 Helen, because --self, 
 
 and at the san urt unity 
 
 to vent her feelii 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Yes," she said. "It was about music; he was 
 very much displeased w r ith me." 
 
 "So!" exclaimed Mr. Harrison. "I hope you do 
 not let that disturb you?" 
 
 "Xo, v said the girl, laughing, "or at any rate, 
 I shall soon recover my equanimity. It is very hard 
 to please a man who plays himself, you know." 
 
 "Or who says he plays," observed Mr. Harrison. 
 "He didn t play, you notice." 
 
 Helen was pleased to fancy that there might be 
 wisdom in the remark. "Let us change the sub 
 ject," she said more cheerfully. "It is best to for 
 get things that make one feel uncomfortable." 
 
 "I ll leave the finding of a new topic to you," re 
 plied the other, with graciousness which did a little 
 more to restore Helen s self-esteem. ".I have a very 
 humble opinion of my own conversation." 
 
 "Do you like mine?" the girl asked with a laugh. 
 
 "I do, indeed," said Mr. Harrison with equally 
 pleasing frankness. "I was as interested as could 
 be^in the story that you were telling me when we 
 were stopped." 
 
 "Well, we ll begin where we left off!" exclaimed 
 Helen, and felt as if she had suddenly discovered a 
 doorway leading from a prison. She found it easy 
 to forget the recent events after that, and Mr. Har 
 rison grew more tolerable to her every moment now 
 that the other was gone; her self-possession came 
 back to her quickly as she read his admiration in 
 his eyes. Besides that, it was impossible to forget 
 for very long that Mr. Harrison was a multi-niillion- 
 aire, and the object of the envious glances of every 
 other girl in the room; and so when Aunt Polly re- 
 
 119 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 turned a while later she found the conversation 
 between the two progressing very well, and in fact 
 almost as much enjoyed by both as it had been the 
 first time. After waiting a few minutes she came 
 to ask Helen to sing for the company, a treat which 
 she had reserved until the last. 
 
 Helen s buoyant nature had by that time flung 
 all her doubts behind her, and this last excitement 
 was all that was needed to sweep her away entirely 
 again. She went to the piano as exulting as ever in 
 her command of it and in the homage which it 
 brought her. She sang an arrangement of the 
 "Preislied," and she sang it with all the energy and 
 enthusiasm she possessed; partly because she had 
 a really good voice and enjoyed the song, and partly 
 because an audience appreciates singing more easily 
 than any other kind of music. She really scored 
 the success of the evening. Everybody was as 
 enthusiastic as the limits of good taste allowed, and 
 Helen was compelled, not in the least against her 
 will, to sing again and again. While she was laugh 
 ing with happiness and triumph, something brought 
 back "Wohin" to her mind, and she sang it again, 
 quite as gaily as she had sung it by the streamlet 
 with Arthur. It was enough to delight even the 
 dullest, and perhaps if Mr. Howard had been there 
 even he would have applauded a little. 
 
 At any rate, as Helen rose from the piano she re 
 ceived a complete ovation, everyone coming to her 
 to thank her and to praise her, and to share in the 
 joy of her beauty; she herself had never been more 
 radiant and more exulting in all her exulting life, 
 drinking in even Mr. Harrison s rapturous compli- 
 
 120 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ments and finding nothing exaggerated in them. 
 And in the meantime, Aunt Polly having suggested 
 a waltz to close the festivities, the furniture was 
 rapidly moved to one side, and the hostess herself 
 took her seat at the piano and struck up the "Invita 
 tion to the Dance;" Mr. Harrison, who had been at 
 Helen s side since her singing had ceased, was of 
 course her partner, and the girl, flushed and excited 
 by all the homage she had received, was soon waltz 
 ing delightedly in his arms. The man danced well, 
 fortunately for him, and that he was the beautiful 
 girl s ardent admirer was by this time evident, not 
 only to Helen, but to everyone else. 
 
 In the mood that she was then, the fact was as 
 welcome to her as it could possibly have been, and 
 when, therefore, Mr. Harrison kept her arm and 
 begged for the next dance, and the next in turn, 
 Helen was sufficiently carried away to have no wish 
 to refuse hjm; when after the third dance she was 
 tired out and sat down to rest, Mr. Harrison was 
 still her companion. 
 
 Helen was at the very height of her happiness 
 then, every trace of her former vexation gone, and 
 likewise every trace of her objections to the man 
 beside her. The music was still sounding merrily, 
 and everyone else was dancing, so that her anima 
 tion did not seem at all out of taste; and so brilliant 
 and fascinating had she become, and so completely 
 enraptured was Mr. Harrison, that he would prob 
 ably have capitulated then and there if the dancing 
 had not ceased and the company separated when it 
 did. The end of all the excitement was a great 
 disappointment to Helen; she was completely happy 
 
 121 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 just then, and would have gone just as far as the 
 stream had carried her. It being her first social 
 experience was probably the reason that she w r as 
 less easily wearied than the rest ; and besides, when 
 one has thus yielded to the sway of the senses, he 
 dreads instinctively the subsiding of the excitement 
 and the awakening of reason. 
 
 The awakening, however, is one that must always 
 come; Helen, having sent away the maid, suddenly 
 found herself standing alone in the middle of her 
 own room gazing at herself in the glass, and seeing 
 a frightened look in her eyes. The merry laughter 
 of the guests ceased gradually, and silence settled 
 about the halls of the great house; but even then 
 Helen did not move. She was standing there still 
 when her aunt came into the room. 
 
 Mrs. Roberts was about as excited as was possible 
 in a matron of her age and dignity; she flung her 
 arms rapturously around Helen, and clasped her to 
 her. "My dear," she cried, "it was a triumph ! > 
 
 "Yes, Auntie," said Helen, weakly. 
 
 "You dear child, you!" went on the other, laugh 
 ing; "I don t believe you realize it yet! Do you 
 know, Helen, that Mr. Harrison is madly in love 
 with you? You ought to be the happiest girl in 
 the land to-night!" 
 
 "Yes, Auntie," said Helen again, still more 
 weakly. 
 
 "Come here, my dear," said Mrs. Roberts, drawing 
 her gently over to the bed and sitting down beside 
 her; "you are a little dazed, I fancy, and I do not 
 blame you. I should have been beside myself at 
 your age if such a thing had happened to me; do 
 
 122 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 you realize, child, what a fortune like Mr. Harri 
 son s is?" 
 
 "No, said Helen, "it is very hard, Aunt Polly. 
 I m afraid about it; I must have some time to 
 think." 
 
 "Think!" laughed the other. "You queer child! 
 My dear, do you actually mean that you could think 
 of refusing this chance of your lifetime?" 
 
 "I don t know," said Helen, trembling; "I 
 don t- 
 
 "Everybody d think you were crazy, child! I 
 know I should, for one. And she added, coaxingly, 
 "Let me tell you what Mr. Roberts said." 
 
 "What, Auntie?" 
 
 "He sent you in this message; he s a great person 
 for doing generous things, when he takes it into his 
 head. He told me to tell you that if you d accept 
 Mr. Harrison s offer he would give you the finest 
 trousseau that he could buy. Wasn t that splendid 
 of him?" 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, "thank him for me;" and she 
 shuddered. "Don t talk to me any more about it 
 now, tho," she pleaded. "Please don t, Aunt 
 Polly. I was so excited, and it was all like a dream, 
 and I m half dazed now; I can t think about it, and 
 I must think, somehow! It s too dreadful!" 
 
 "You shan t think about it to-night, child," 
 laughed the other, "for I want you to sleep and be 
 beautiful to-morrow. See," she added, beginning 
 to unfasten Helen s dress, "I m going to be your 
 little mother to-night, and put you to bed." 
 
 And so, soothing the girl and kissing her burn 
 ing forehead and trying to laugh a way her fears, her 
 
 123 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 delighted protectress undressed her, and did not 
 leave her until she had seen her in bed and kissed 
 her again. "And promise me, child, she said, " that 
 you won t worry yourself to-night. Go to sleep, 
 and you ll have time to think to-morrow." 
 
 Helen promised that she would; but she did not 
 keep her promise. She heard the great clock in the 
 hallway strike many times, and when the darkest 
 hours of the night had passed she was sitting up in 
 bed and gazing about her at the gray shadows in 
 the room, holding the covering tightly about her, 
 because she was very cold; she was muttering nerv 
 ously to herself, half deliriously: "No, no, I will not 
 do it! They shall not make me do it! I must have 
 time to think." 
 
 And when at last she fell into a restless slumber, 
 that thought was still in her mind, and those words 
 upon her lips: "I will not do it; I must have time 
 to think!" 
 
 124 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 "And yet methinks I see it in thy face, 
 What thou shouldst be: th occasion speaks thee; and 
 My strong imagination sees a crown 
 Dropping upon thy head." 
 
 WHEN Helen awoke upon the following morning, 
 the resolution to withstand her aunt s urging was 
 still strong within her; as she strove to bring back 
 the swift events of the night before, the first dis 
 covery she made was a headache and a feeling of 
 weariness and dissatisfaction that was new to her. 
 She arose and looked in the glass, and seeing that 
 she was pale, vowed again, "They shall not torment 
 me in this way! I do not even mean that he shall 
 propose to me; I must have time to realize it! 
 
 And so firm was she in her own mind that she 
 rang the bell and sent the maid to call her aunt. It 
 was then only nine o clock in the morning, and 
 Helen presumed that neither Mrs. Roberts nor any 
 of the other guests would be awake, they not be.ing 
 fresh from boarding school as she was; but the 
 girl was so nervous and restless, and so weighed 
 upon by her urgent resolution, that she felt she 
 could do nothing else until she had declared it and 
 gotten rid of the matter. "I m going to tell her once 
 for all," she vowed; "they shall not torment me any 
 more." 
 
 125 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 It turned out, however, that Mrs. Roberts had 
 been up and dressed a considerable time, for a 
 reason which, when Helen learned it, prevented her 
 delivering so quickly the speech she had upon her 
 mind; she noticed a worried expression upon her 
 aunt s face as soon as the latter came into the 
 room. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she asked, in some sur 
 prise. 
 
 "A very dreadful misfortune, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Roberts; "I don t know how to tell you, you ll be 
 so put out." 
 
 Helen was quite alarmed as she saw her aunt sink 
 down into a chair; but then it flashed over her that 
 Mr. Harrison might have for some reason been 
 called away. 
 
 "What is it? Tell me!" she asked eagerly. 
 
 "It s Mr. Howard, my dear," said the other; and 
 Helen frowned. 
 
 "Oh, bother!" she cried; "what about him?" 
 
 "He s been ill during the night," replied Aunt 
 Polly. 
 
 "111!" exclaimed Helen. "Dear me, what a 
 nuisance!" 
 
 "Poor man," said the other, deprecatingly; "he 
 cannot help it." 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Helen, "but he ought not to be 
 here. What is the matter w r ith him?" 
 
 "I don t know," was the reply, "but he has been 
 suffering so all night that the doctor has had to give 
 him an opiate." 
 
 The wan countenance of Mr. Howard rose up be 
 fore Helen just then, and she shuddered inwardly. 
 
 126 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "l)-;ir nif, what a stale of atl airs!" she exclaimed. 
 "It seems to me as if I were to have nothing but 
 fright and worry. Why should there be such things 
 in the world?- 
 
 "I don t know, Helen," said the other, "but it is 
 certainly inopportune for you. Of course the com 
 pany will all have to leave." 
 
 "To leave I" echoed Helen; she had never once 
 thought of that. 
 
 "Why, of course," said her aunt. "It would not 
 be possible to enjoy ourselves under such very 
 dreadful circumstances." 
 
 "But, Aunt Polly, that is a shame!" cried the 
 girl. "The idea of so many people being inconve 
 nienced for such a cause. Can t he be moved?" 
 
 "The doctor declares it would be impossible at 
 present, Helen, and it would not look right anyway, 
 you know. He will certainly have to remain until 
 he is better." 
 
 "And how long will that be?" 
 
 "A week, or perhaps more," was the reply. 
 
 And Helen saw that her promised holiday was 
 ruined; her emotions, however, were not all of dis 
 appointment, for though she was vexed at the in 
 terruptions, she recollected with sudden relief that 
 she could thus obtain, and without so much effort 
 of her own, the time to debate the problem of Mr. 
 Harrison. Also there was in her mind, if not ex 
 actly pity for the invalid, at any rate the nearest 
 to it that Helen had ever learned to feel, an uncom 
 fortable fright at the idea of such suffering. 
 
 "I promise you," said Aunt Polly, who had been 
 watching her face and trying to read her emotions, 
 
 127 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "that we shall only postpone the good time I meant 
 to give you. You cannot possibly be more vexed 
 about it than I, for I was rejoicing in your triumph 
 with Mr. Harrison." 
 
 "I m not worrying on that account," said Helen, 
 angrily. 
 
 "Helen, dear," said Mrs. Roberts, pleadingly, 
 "what can be the matter with you? I think anyone 
 who was watching you and me would get the idea 
 that I was the one to whom the fortune is coming. 
 I suppose that was only one of your jokes, my 
 dear, but I truly don t think you show a realization 
 of what a tremendous opportunity you have. You 
 show much more lack of experience than I had any 
 idea could be possible." 
 
 "It isn t that, Aunt Polly," protested Helen; "I 
 realize it, but I want time to think." 
 
 "To think, Helen! But what is there to think? 
 It seems to be madness to trifle with such a chance." 
 
 "Will it be trifling to keep him waiting a while?" 
 asked Helen, laughing in spite of her vexation. 
 
 "Maybe not, my dear; but you ought to know that 
 every other girl in this house would snap him up at 
 one second s notice. If you d only seen them watch 
 ing you last night as I did." 
 
 "I saw a little," was the reply. "But, Aunt Polly, 
 is Mr. Harrison the only man whom I can find?" 
 
 "My husband and I have been over the list of our 
 acquaintances, and not found anyone that can be 
 compared with him for an instant, Helen. We 
 know of no one that would do for you that has half 
 as much money." 
 
 "I never said he d do for me," said Helen, again 
 
 128 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 laughing. "Understand me, Auntie," she added; 
 "it isn t that I d not like the fortune! If I could 
 get it without its attachment 
 
 "Hut, my dear, you know you can never get any 
 wealth except by marriage; what is the use of 
 talking such nonsense, even in fun?" 
 
 "Hut, listen," objected Helen in turn; "suppose I 
 don t want such a great fortune suppose I should 
 marry one of these other men?" 
 
 "Helen, if you only could know as much as I 
 know about these things," said Mrs. Roberts, "if 
 you only could know the difference between being 
 in the middle and at the top of the social ladder! 
 Dear, why will you choose anything but the best 
 when you can have the best if you want it? I tell 
 you once for all I do not care how clever you are, 
 or how beautiful you are, the great people will look 
 down on you for an upstart if you cannot match 
 them and make just as much of a show. And why 
 can you not discover what your own tastes are? I 
 watched you last night, child; anyone could have 
 seen that you were in your element! You outshone 
 everyone, Helen, and you should do just the same 
 all your life. Can you not see just what that means 
 to you?" 
 
 "Yes, Auntie," said Helen, "but then 
 
 "Were you not perfectly happy last night?" in- 
 hMTupted the other. 
 
 "No," protested the other, "that s just what .1 was 
 going to say." 
 
 "The only reason in the world why you are not, 
 my dear, is that you were tormenting yourself with 
 foolish scruples. Can you not see that if you once 
 9 129 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 had the courage to rid yourself of them it would be 
 all that you need. Why are you so weak, Helen?" 
 
 "It is not weak!" exclaimed the other. 
 
 "Yes," asserted Mrs. Roberts, "I say it is weak. 
 It is weak of you not to comprehend what your life 
 is to be, and what you need for your happiness. It 
 is a shame for you to make no use of the glorious 
 gifts that are yours, and to cramp and hinder all 
 your own progress. I want you to have room to 
 show your true powers, Helen!" 
 
 Helen had been leaning over the foot of the bed 
 listening to her aunt, stirred again by all her old 
 emotion, and angry with herself for being stirred; 
 her unspoken resolution was not quite so steady as 
 it had been, tho like all good resolutions it re 
 mained in her mind to torment her. 
 
 She sprang up suddenly with a very nervous and 
 forced laugh. "I m glad I don t have to argue 
 with you, Auntie," she said, "and that I m saved 
 the trouble of worrying myself ill. You see the 
 Fates are on my side, I must have time to think, 
 whether I want to or not." .It was that comfort 
 which saved her from further struggle with herself 
 upon the subject. (Helen much preferred being 
 happy to struggling.) She set hurriedly to work 
 to dress, for her aunt told her that the guests were 
 nearly ready for breakfast. 
 
 "Nobody could sleep since all the excitement," 
 she said. "I wonder it did not wake you." 
 
 "I was tired," said Helen; "I guess that was it." 
 
 "You ll find the breakfast rather a sombre re 
 past," added Mrs. Roberts, pathetically. "I ve been 
 up nearly three hours myself, so frightened about 
 
 130 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 on, l( . 
 ^MyiU,andIwa. qiI ltecertal, ..... was 1. hto death 
 
 Ann< .-oiiv:- cried II,lon win, . ,,,. wild 
 stari, why <l<, von (; ,lk like that?" 
 won t Kly ilnv mo ,. e about 
 
 to0,r ." SUid MrS R bertS " D0t unless yo want 
 ; ear >?" USe W0n>t be a -> cheerful p.ace, I 
 
 mm 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 little excited when she heard Mr. Harrison coming 
 out to join her there. 
 
 "Rather a sad ending of our little party, wasn t 
 it, Miss Davis?" he said. 
 
 a Yes," answered the girl, "I feel so sorry for poor 
 Mr. Howard." 
 
 "He seemed to be rather ill last night," said the 
 other. He was going to add that the fact perhaps 
 accounted for the invalid s severity, but he was 
 afraid of shocking Helen by his levity, a not en 
 tirely necessary precaution, unfortunately. 
 
 "You are going back to town this morning, with 
 the others?" Helen asked. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Harrison, somewhat to her sur 
 prise; "I have a different plan. 
 
 "Good Heavens, does he suppose he s going to 
 stay here with me?" thought the girl. 
 
 "I received your aunt s permission to ask you," 
 continued Mr. Harrison, "and so I need only yours." 
 
 "For what?" Helen inquired, with varied emo 
 tions. 
 
 "To drive you over to Oakdale with my rig," said 
 the other. "I had it brought down, you know, be 
 cause I thought there might be a chance to use it." 
 
 Helen had turned slightly paler, and was staring 
 in front of her. 
 
 "Are you not fond of driving, then, Miss Davis?" 
 asked the other, as she hesitated. 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, "but I don t like to trouble 
 you _ " 
 
 "I assure you it will be the greatest pleasure in 
 the world," said Mr. Harrison; "I only regret that I 
 
 132 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 shall not be able to see more of you, Miss Davis; it 
 is only for the present, I hope." 
 
 "Thank you," said Helen, still very faintly. 
 
 "And I have a pair of horses that I am rather 
 proud of," added Mr. Harrison, laughing; "I should 
 like you to tell me what you think of them. Will 
 you give me the pleasure?" 
 
 And Helen could not hesitate very much longer 
 without being rude. "If you really wish it, Mr. 
 Harrison," she said, "very well." And then some 
 one else came out on the piazza and cut short the 
 conversation; Helen had no time to think any more 
 about the matter, but she had a disagreeable con 
 sciousness that her blood was flowing faster again, 
 and that her old agitation was back in all its 
 strength. Soon afterwards Mrs. Roberts came out 
 and joined the two. 
 
 "Miss Davis has granted me the very great 
 favor/ said Mr. Harrison; "I fear I shall be happier 
 than I ought to be, considering what suffering I 
 leave behind." 
 
 "It will do no good to worry about it," said Mrs. 
 Roberts, a reflection which often keeps the world 
 from wasting its sympathy. "I shall have your 
 carriage brought round." | 
 
 "Isn t it rather early to start?" asked Helen. 
 
 "I don t know," said her aunt; "is it?" 
 
 "We can take a little drive if it is," said Mr. 
 Harrison; "I mean that Miss Davis shall think 
 a great deal of my horses. 
 
 Helen said nothing, but stood gazing in front of 
 her across the lawns, her mind in a tempest of 
 emotions. She could not put away from her the 
 
 J33 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 excitement that Mr. Harrison s presence brought; 
 the visions of wealth and power which gleamed 
 before her almost overwhelmed her with their vast- 
 ness. But she had also the memory of her morn 
 ing resolve to trouble her conscience; the result 
 was the same confused helplessness, the dazed and 
 frightened feeling which she so rebelled against. 
 
 "I do not want to be troubled in this way," she 
 muttered angrily to herself, again and again; "I 
 wish to be let alone, so that I can be happy!" 
 
 Yet there was no chance just then for her to find 
 an instant s peace, or time for further thought; 
 there were half a dozen people about her, and she 
 was compelled to listen to and answer commonplace 
 remarks about the beauty of the country in front of 
 her, and about her singing on the previous evening. 
 
 She had to stifle her agitation as best she could, 
 and almost before she realized it her aunt had come 
 to summon her to get ready for the drive. 
 
 Helen hoped to have a moment s quiet then; but 
 there was nothing to be done but put on her hat and 
 gloves, and Mrs. Roberts was with her all the time. 
 "Helen," she said pleadingly, as she watched the 
 girl surveying herself in the glass, "I do hope you 
 will not forget all that I told you." 
 
 "I wish you would let me alone about it!" cried 
 Helen, very peevishly. 
 
 "If you only knew, my dear girl, how much I have 
 done for you," replied the other, "and how I ve 
 planned and looked forward to this time, I don t 
 think you d answer me in that way." 
 
 "It isn t that, Aunt Polly," exclaimed Helen, 
 
 134 
 
K 1 XG MIDAS 
 
 "but I am so confused and I don t know what to 
 think." 
 
 "I am Irving inv poor, humble best to show you 
 what to think. And you could not possibly feel 
 more worried than I just now; Helen, you could 
 be rid of all these doubts and si rubles in one in 
 stant, if you chose. Ask yourself if it is not true; 
 you have only to give yourself into the arms of the 
 happiness that calls you. And you never will get 
 rid of the matter in any other way, indeed you 
 will not! If you should fling away this chance, the 
 memory of it would never leave you all your life; 
 after you knew it was too late, you would torment 
 yourself a thousand times more than ever you can 
 now." 
 
 "Oh, dear, dear!" cried Helen, half hysterically; 
 "I can t stand that, Aunt Polly. I ll do anything, 
 only let me alone! My head is aching to split, and 
 J don t know where I am." 
 
 "And you will never find another chance like it, 
 Helen," went on the other, with sledge-hammer re- 
 morselessness. "For if you behave in this perfectly 
 insane way and lose this opportunity, I shall simply 
 give you up in despair at your perversity. 
 
 "But I haven t said I was going to lose it," the 
 girl exclaimed. "He won t be any the less in love 
 with me if I make him wait, Aunt Polly! 
 
 "Mr. Harrison was going back to Cincinnati in a 
 day or two," put in Mrs. Roberts, swiftly. 
 
 "He will stay if I wish him to," was the girl s 
 reply. "There is no need for so much worry; one 
 would think I was getting old." 
 
 "Old!" laughed the other. "You are so beautiful 
 
 135 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 this morning, Helen, that I could fall in love with 
 you myself." She turned the girl towards her, see 
 ing that her toilet was finished. "I haven t a 
 thought in the world, dear, but to keep you so 
 beautiful," she said; "I hate to see you tormenting 
 yourself and making yourself so pale; why will you 
 not take my advice and fling all these worries aside 
 and let yourself be happy? That is all I want 
 you to do, and it is so easy! Why is it that you do 
 not want to be happy? I like to see you smile, 
 Helen!" And Helen, who was tired of struggling, 
 made a wry attempt to oblige her, and then broke 
 into a laugh at herself. Meanwhile the other picked 
 a rose from a great bunch of them that lay upon 
 the bureau, and pinned it upon her dress. 
 
 "There, child," she, said, "he can never resist you 
 now, J know!" 
 
 Helen kissed her excitedly upon the cheek, and 
 darted quickly out of the door, singing, in a brave 
 attempt to bring back her old, merry self: 
 
 "The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la-la, 
 Have nothing to do with the case." 
 
 A moment later, however, she recollected Mr. 
 Howard and his misfortune, and her heart sank; 
 she ran quickly down the steps to get the thought 
 of him from her mind. 
 
 It was easy enough to forget him and all other 
 troubles as well when she was once outside upon 
 the piazza; for there were plenty of happy people, 
 and everyone crowded about her to bid her good-by. 
 There too was Mr. Harrison standing upon the steps 
 waiting for her, and there was his driving-cart with 
 
 136 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 two magnificent black horses, alert and eager for 
 the sport. Helen was not much of a judge of horses, 
 having never had one of her own to drive, but she 
 had the eye of a person of aristocratic tastes for 
 what was in good form, and she saw that Mr. Harri 
 son s turnout was all of that, with another at 
 traction for her, that it was daring; for the horses 
 were lithe, restless creatures, thoroughbreds, both 
 of them; and it looked as if they had not been out 
 of the stable in a week. They were giving the 
 groom who held them all that he could do. 
 
 Mr. Harrison held out his hand to the girl as she 
 came down the steps, and eyed her keenly to see if 
 her flushed cheeks would betray any sign of fear. 
 But Helen s emotions were surging too strongly for 
 such thoughts, and she had, besides, a little of the 
 thoroughbred nature herself. She laughed gaily as 
 she gave her hand to her companion and sprang 
 into the wagon; he followed her, and as he took 
 the reins the groom sprang aside and the two 
 horses bounded away down the broad avenue. 
 Helen turned once to wave her hand in answer to 
 the chorus of good-bys that sounded from the porch, 
 and then she faced about and sank back into the 
 seat and drank in with delight the fresh morning 
 breeze that blew in her face. 
 
 "Oh, I think this is fine!" she cried. 
 
 "You like driving, then?" asked the other. 
 
 "Yes indeed," was the reply. "I like this kind 
 ever so much." 
 
 "Wait until we get out on the high-road," said Mr. 
 Harrison, "and then we will see what we can do. 
 
 137 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 I came from the West, you know, Miss Davis, so I 
 think I am wise on the subject of horses. 
 
 The woods on either side sped by them, and 
 Helen s emotions soon began to flow faster. It was 
 always easy for her to forget everything and lose 
 herself in feelings of joy and power, and it was 
 especially easy when she was as much wrought up 
 as she was just then. It was again her ride with 
 the thunderstorm, and soon she felt as if she were 
 being swept out into the rejoicing and the victory 
 once more. She might have realized, if she had 
 thought, that her joy was coming only because she 
 was following her aunt s advice, and yielding her 
 self into the arms of her temptation ; but Helen was 
 thoroughly tired of thinking; she wanted to feel, 
 and again and again she drank in deep breaths of 
 the breeze. 
 
 It was only a minute or so before they passed 
 the gates of the Roberts place, and swept out of the 
 woods and into the open country. It was really 
 inspiring then, for Mr. Harrison gave his horses 
 the reins, and Helen was compelled to hold on to 
 her hat. He saw delight and laughter glowing in 
 her countenance as she watched the landscape that 
 fled by them, with its hillsides clad in their brightest 
 green and with its fresh-plowed farm-lands and 
 snowy orchards; the clattering of the horses hoofs 
 and the whirring of the wheels in the sandy road 
 were music and inspiration such as Helen longed 
 for, and she would have sung with all her heart had 
 she been alone. 
 
 As was her way, she talked instead, with the same 
 animation and glow that had fascinated her com- 
 
 138 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 panion upon the previous evening. She talked of 
 the sights that were about them, and when they 
 came to the top of the hill and paused to gaze 
 around at the view, she told about her trip through 
 the Alps, and pictured the scenery to him, and nar 
 rated some of her mountain-climbing adventures; 
 and then Mr. Harrison, who must have been a dull 
 man indeed not to have felt the contagion of Helen s 
 happiness, told her about his own experiences in the 
 Rockies, to which the girl listened with genuine 
 interest. Mr. Harrison s father, so he told her, had 
 been a station-agent of a little town in one of the 
 wildest portions of the mountains; he himself had 
 begun as a railroad surveyor, and had risen step by 
 step by constant exertion and watchfulness. It 
 was a story of a self-made man, such as Helen had 
 vowed to her aunt she could not bear to listen to; 
 yet she did not find it disagreeable just then. There 
 was an exciting story of a race with a rival road, 
 to secure the right to the best route across the 
 mountains; Helen found it quite as exciting as 
 music, and said so. 
 
 "Perhaps it is a kind of music," said Mr. Harri 
 son, laughing; "it is the only kind I have cared any 
 thing about, excepting yours." 
 
 "I had no idea people had to work so hard in the 
 world," said Helen, dodging the compliment. 
 
 "They do, unless they have someone else to do it 
 for them," said the other. "It is a fierce race, now 
 adays, and a man has to watch and think every 
 minute of the time. But it is glorious to triumph." 
 
 Helen found herself already a little more in 
 a position to realize what ten million dollars 
 
 139 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 amounted to, arid very much more respectful and 
 awe-stricken in her relation to them. She was 
 sufficiently oblivious to the flight of time to be quite 
 surprised when she gazed about her, and discovered 
 that they were within a couple of miles of home. 
 "I had no idea of how quickly we were going," she 
 said. 
 
 "You are not tired, then?" asked the other. 
 
 "No indeed," Helen answered, "I enjoyed it ever so 
 much. 7 
 
 "We might drive farther," said Mr. Harrison; 
 "these horses are hardly waked up." 
 
 He reined them in a little and glanced at his 
 watch. "It s just eleven," he said, "I think there d 
 be time," and he turned to her with a smile. 
 "Would you like to have an adventure?" he asked. 
 
 "I generally do," replied the girl. "What is it?" 
 
 "I was thinking of a drive, 7 said the other; "one 
 that we could just about take and return by lunch- 
 time; it is about ten miles from here." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Helen. 
 
 "I have just bought a country place near here," 
 said Mr. Harrison. "I thought perhaps you would 
 like to see it." 
 
 "My aunt spoke of it," Helen answered; "the 
 Eversons old home." 
 
 "Yes," said the other; "you know it, then?" 
 
 "I only saw it once in my life, when I was a very 
 little girl," Helen replied, "and so I have only a 
 dim recollection of its magnificence; the old man 
 who lived there never saw any company." 
 
 "It had to be sold because he failed in business," 
 said Mr. Harrison. "Would you like to drive over?" 
 
 140 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Very much," said Helen, and a minute later, 
 when they came to a fork in the road, they took the 
 one which led them to "Fail-view," as the place was 
 called. 
 
 "I think it a tremendously fine property myself," 
 said Mr. Harrison; "I made up my mind to have it 
 the first time I saw it. I haven t seen anything 
 around here to equal it, and I hope to make a real 
 English country-seat out of it. I ll tell you about 
 what I want to do when we get there, and you can 
 give me your advice; a man never has good taste, 
 you know." 
 
 "I should like to see it," answered Helen, smiling; 
 "I have a passion for fixing up things." 
 
 "We had an exciting time at the sale," went on 
 Mr. Harrison reminiscently. "You know Mr. Ever- 
 son s family wanted to keep the place themselves, 
 and the three or four branches of the family had 
 clubbed together to buy it; when the bidding got 
 near the end, there was no one left but the family 
 and myself." 
 
 "And you got it?" said Helen. "How cruel!" 
 
 "The strongest wins, laughed the other. "I had 
 made up my mind to have it. The Eversons are a 
 very aristocratic family, aren t they?" 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, "very, indeed; they have lived 
 in this part of the country since the Revolution." 
 As Mr. Harrison went on to tell her the story of the 
 sale she found herself vividly reminded of what her 
 aunt had told her of the difference between having 
 a good deal of money and all the money one wanted. 
 Perhaps, also, her companion was not without sonip 
 such vaguely felt purpose in the telling. At any, 
 
 141 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 rate, the girl was trembling inwardly more and 
 more at the prospect which was unfolding itself 
 before her; as excitement always acted upon her as 
 a stimulant, she was at her very best during the rest 
 of the drive. She and her companion were con 
 versing very merrily indeed when Fairview was 
 reached. 
 
 The very beginning of the place was imposing, 
 for there was a high wall along the roadway for 
 perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then two massive 
 iron gates set in great stone pillars; they were 
 opened by the gate-keeper in response to Mr. Harri 
 son s call. Once inside the two had a drive of some 
 distance through what had once been a handsome 
 park, though it was a semi-wilderness then. The 
 road ascended somewhat all the way, until the end 
 of the forest was reached, and the first view of the 
 house was gained; Helen could scarcely restrain a 
 cry of pleasure as she saw it, for it was really a 
 magnificent old mansion, built of weather-beaten 
 gray stone, and standing upon a high plateau, sur 
 rounded by a lawn and shaded by half a dozen great 
 oaks; below it the lawn sloped in a broad terrace, 
 and in the valley thus formed gleamed a little trout- 
 pond, set off at the back by a thickly-wooded 
 hillside. 
 
 "Isn t it splendid!" the girl exclaimed, gazing 
 about her. 
 
 "I thought it was rather good," said Mr. Harri 
 son, deprecatingly. "It can be made much finer, of 
 course." 
 
 "When you take your last year s hay crop from 
 the lawn, for one thing," laughed she. "But I had 
 
 142 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 no idea there was anything so beautiful near our 
 little Oakdale. Just look at that tremendous 
 entrance!" 
 
 "It s all built in royal style," said Mr. Harrison. 
 "The family must have been wealthy in the old 
 days." 
 
 "Probably slave-dealers, or something of that 
 kind," observed Helen. "Is the house all furnished 
 inside?" 
 
 "Yes," said the other, "but I expect to do most of 
 it over. Wouldn t you like to look?" He asked 
 the question as he saw the gate-keeper coming up 
 the road, presumably with the keys. 
 
 The girl gazed about her dubiously; she would 
 have liked to go in, except that she was certain it 
 would be improper. Helen had never had much re 
 spect for the proprieties, however, being accus 
 tomed to rely upon her own opinions of things; and 
 in the present case, besides, she reflected that no 
 one would ever know anything about it. 
 
 "We d not have time to do more than glance 
 around," continued the other, "but we might do 
 that, if you like." 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, after a moment more of hesi 
 tation, "I think I should." 
 
 Her heart was beating very fast as the two as 
 cended the great stone steps and as the door opened 
 before them; her mind could not but be filled with 
 the overwhelming thought that all that she saw 
 might be hers if she really wanted it. The mere 
 imagining of Mr. Harrison s wealth had been 
 enough to make her thrill and burn, so it was to be 
 expected that the actual presence of some of it 
 
 143 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 would not fail of its effect. It is to be observed 
 that the great Temptation took place upon a high 
 mountain, where the kingdoms of the earth could 
 really be seen; and Helen as she gazed around had 
 the further knowledge that the broad landscape and 
 palatial house, which to her were almost too splen 
 did to be real, were after all but a slight trifle to 
 her companion. 
 
 "* The girl entered the great hallway, with its huge 
 fireplace and its winding stairway, and then strolled 
 through the parlors of the vast house; Helen had in 
 all its fullness the woman s passion for spending 
 money for beautiful things, and it had been her 
 chief woe in all her travels that the furniture and 
 pictures and tapestry which she gazed at with such 
 keen delight must be forever beyond her thoughts. 
 Just at present her fancy was turned loose and 
 madly reveling in these memories, while always 
 above her wildest flights was the intoxicating cer 
 tainty that there was no reason why they should 
 not all be possible. She could not but recollect with 
 a wondering smile that only yesterday she had been 
 happy at the thought of arranging one dingy little 
 parlor in her country parsonage, and had been try 
 ing to persuade her father to the extravagance of 
 re-covering two chairs. 
 
 It would have been hard for Helen to keep her 
 emotions from Mr. Harrison, and he must have 
 guessed the reason why she was so flushed and ex 
 cited. They were standing just then in the center 
 of the great dining-room, with its massive furniture 
 of black mahogany, and she was saying that it 
 ought to be papered in dark red, and was conjuring 
 
 144 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 up the effect to herself. "Something rich, you 
 know, to set off the furniture," she explained. 
 
 "And you must take that dreadful portrait from 
 over the mantel," she added, laughing. (It was a 
 picture of a Revolutionary warrior, on horseback 
 and in full uniform, the coloring looking like faded 
 oilcloth.) 
 
 "I had thought of that myself," said Mr. Harri 
 son. "It s the founder of the Eversons; there s a 
 picture gallery in a hall back of here, with two 
 whole rows of ancestors in it." 
 
 "Why don t you adopt them?" asked Helen mis 
 chievously. 
 
 "One can buy all the ancestors one wants to, now 
 adays," laughed Mr. Harrison. "I thought I d make 
 something more interesting out of it. I m not much 
 of a judge of art, you know, but I thought if I ever 
 went abroad I d buy up some of the great paintings 
 that one reads about some of the old masters, 
 you know." 
 
 "I m afraid you d find very few of them for sale," 
 said Helen, smiling. 
 
 "I m not accustomed to fail in buying things that 
 I want, was the other s reply. "Are you fond of 
 pictures?" 
 
 "Very much indeed," answered the girl. As a 
 matter of fact, the mere mention of the subject 
 opened a new kingdom to her, for she could not 
 count the number of times she had sat before 
 beautiful pictures and almost wept at the thought 
 that she could never own one that was really worth 
 looking at. U I brought home ti few myself," she 
 said to her companion, "just engravings, you 
 10 145 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 know, half a dozen that I thought would please me; 
 I mean to hang them around mj music-room. 7 
 
 a Tell me about it," said Mr, Harrison. "I have 
 been thinking of fixing up such a place myself, you 
 know. I thought of extending the house on the 
 side that has the fine view of the valley, and mak 
 ing part a piazza, and part a conservatory or music- 
 room." 
 
 "It could be both!" exclaimed the girl, eagerly. 
 "That would be the very thing; there ought not to 
 be anything in a music-room, you know, except the 
 piano and just a few chairs, and the rest all flowers. 
 The pictures ought all to be appropriate pictures 
 of nature, of things that dance and are beautiful; 
 oh, I could lose myself in such a room as that!" 
 and Helen ran on, completely carried away by the 
 fancy, and forgetting even Mr. Harrison for a 
 moment. 
 
 "I have often dreamed of such a place," she said, 
 "where everything would be sympathetic; it s a 
 pity that one can t have a piano taken out into 
 the fields, the way I remember reading that Haydn 
 used to do with his harpsichord. If I were a violin 
 ist, that s the way I d do all my playing, because 
 then one would not need to be afraid to open his 
 eyes; oh, it would be fine 
 
 Helen stopped; she was at the height of her ex 
 citement just then; and the climax came a moment 
 afterwards. "Miss Davis," asked the man, "would 
 you really like to arrange such a music-room?" 
 
 The tone of his voice was so different that the 
 girl comprehended instantly; it was this moment 
 to which she had been rushing with so much exul- 
 
 146 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 tation; but when it came her heart almost stopped 
 beating, and she gave a choking gasp. 
 
 "Would you really like it?" asked Mr. Harrison 
 again, bending towards her earnestly. 
 
 "Why, certainly, said Helen, making one blind 
 and desperate effort to dodge the issue. "I ll tell 
 you everything that is necessary." 
 
 "That is not what I mean, Miss Davis!" 
 
 "Not?" echoed Helen, and she tried to look at 
 him with her frank, open eyes; but when she saw 
 his burning look, she could not; she dropped her 
 eyes and turned scarlet. 
 
 "Miss Davis," went on the man rapidly, "I have 
 been waiting for a chance to tell you this. Let me 
 tell you now!" 
 
 Helen gazed wildly about her once, as if she 
 would have fled; then she stood with her arms lying 
 helplessly at her sides, trembling in every nerve. 
 
 "There is very little pleasure that one can get 
 from such beautiful things alone, Miss Davis, and 
 especially when he is as dulled by the world as my 
 self. I thought that some day I might be able to 
 share them with some one who could enjoy them 
 more than I, but I never knew who that person was 
 until last night. I know that I have not much else 
 to offer you, except what wealth and position I have 
 gained; and when I think of all your accomplish 
 ments, and all that you have to place you so far 
 beyond me, I almost fear to offer myself to you. 
 But I can only give what I have my humble ad 
 miration of your beauty and your powers; and the 
 promise to worship you, to give the rest of my life 
 to seeing that you have everything in the world 
 
 147 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 that you want. I will put all that I own at your 
 command, and get as much more as I can, with no 
 thought but of your happiness." 
 
 Mr. Harrison could not have chosen words more 
 fitted to win the trembling girl beside him; that 
 he should recognize as well as she did her superior 
 ity to him, removed half of his deficiency in her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Miss Davis," the other went on, "I cannot know 
 how you will feel toward such a promise, but I 
 cannot but feel that what I possess could give you 
 opportunities of much happiness. You should have 
 all the beauty about you that you wished, for there 
 is nothing in the world too beautiful for you; and 
 you should have every luxury that money can buy, 
 to save you from all care. If this house seemed too 
 small for you, you should have another wherever 
 you desired it, and be mistress of it, and of every 
 thing in it ; and if you cared for a social career, you 
 should have everything to help you, and it would 
 be my one happiness to see your triumph. I would 
 give a thousand times what I own to have you for 
 my wife." 
 
 So the man continued, pleading his cause, until at 
 last he stopped, waiting anxiously for a sign from 
 the girl; he saw that she was agitated, for her 
 breast was heaving, and her forehead flushed, but 
 he could not tell the reason. "Perhaps, Miss Davis," 
 he said, humbly, "you will scorn such things as I 
 have to offer you; tell me, is it that?" 
 
 Helen answered him, in a faint voice, "It is not 
 that, Mr. Harrison; it is, it is, " 
 
 "What, Miss Davis?" 
 
 148 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "II has been but a day! I have had no time to 
 know you to love you." 
 
 And Helen stopped, afraid at the words she her 
 self was using; for she knew that for the first time 
 in her life she had stooped to a sham and a lie. Her 
 whole soul was ablaze with longing just then, with 
 longing for the power ;t:id the happiness which this 
 man held out to IKM-; and she meant to take him, 
 she had no longer a thought of resistance. It was 
 all the world which offered itself to her, and she 
 meant to clasp it to her- to lose herself quite 
 utterly and forget herself in it, and she was already 
 drunk with the thought. Therefore she could not 
 but shudder as she heard the word "love" upon 
 her lips, and knew that she had used it because she 
 w r ished to make a show of hesitation. 
 
 "I did not need but one day, Miss Davis," went 
 on the other pleadingly, "to know that .1 loved you 
 to know that I no longer set any value on the 
 things that I had struggled all my life to win; 
 for you are perfect, Miss Davis. You are so far 
 beyond me that I have scarcely the courage to ask 
 you what I do. But I must ask you, and know my 
 fate." 
 
 He stopped again and gazed at her; and Helen 
 looked at him wildly, and then turned away once 
 more, 1 trembling. She wished that he would only 
 continue still longer, for the word was upon her 
 lips, and yet it was horror for her to utter it, be 
 cause she felt she ought not to yield so soon, 
 because she wanted some delay; she sought for 
 some word that would be an evasion, that would 
 make him urge her more strongly; she wished to be 
 
 149 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 wooed and made to surrender, and yet she could 
 find no pretext. 
 
 "Answer me, Miss Davis!" exclaimed the other, 
 passionately. 
 
 "What what do you wish me to say?" asked 
 Helen faintly. 
 
 "I wish you to tell me that you will be my wife; 
 I wish you to take me for what I can give you for 
 your happiness and your glory. I ask nothing else, 
 I make no terms; if you will do it, it will make me 
 the happiest man in the world. There is nothing 
 else that I care for in life." 
 
 And then as the girl still stood, flushed and shud 
 dering, hovering upon the verge, he took her hand 
 in his and begged her to reply. "You must not 
 keep me in suspense!" he exclaimed. "You must 
 tell me, tell me." 
 
 And Helen, almost sinking, answered him "Yes!" 
 It was such a faint word that she scarcely heard it 
 herself, but the other heard it, and trembling with 
 delight, he caught her in his arms and pressed a 
 burning kiss upon her cheek. 
 
 The effect surprised him; for the fire which had 
 burned Helen and inflamed her cheeks had been am 
 bition, and ambition alone. It was the man s 
 money that she wanted and she was stirred with no 
 less horror than ever at the thought of the price to 
 be paid; therefore the touch of his rough mustache 
 upon her cheek acted upon her as an electric con 
 tact, and all the shame in her nature burst into 
 flame. She tore herself loose with almost a scream. 
 "No, no!" she cried. "Stop!" 
 
 Mr. Harrison gazed at her in astonishment for a 
 
 150 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 moment, scarcely able to find a word to say. "Miss 
 Davis," he protested, "Helen what is the matter?" 
 
 "You had no right to do that! she cried, trem 
 bling with anger. 
 
 Helen! protested the other, "have you not just 
 promised to be my wife? And the words made the 
 girl turn white and drop her eyes in fear. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she panted helplessly, "but you should 
 not it is too soon!" The other stood watching 
 her, perhaps divining a little of the cause of her 
 agitation, and feeling, at any rate, that he could be 
 satisfied for the present with his success. He 
 answered, very humbly, "Perhaps you are right; I 
 am very sorry for offending you," and stood silently 
 waiting until the girl s emotions had subsided a 
 little, and she had looked at him again. "You will 
 pardon me?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she said, weakly, only " 
 
 "And you will not forget the promise you have 
 made me?" 
 
 "No," she answered, and then she gazed anxiously 
 toward the door. "Let us go," she said imploringly; 
 "it is all so hard for me to realize, and I feel so very 
 faint." 
 
 The two went slowly down the hallway, Mr. Har 
 rison not even venturing to offer her his arm; out 
 side they stood for a minute upon the high steps, 
 Helen leaning against a pillar and breathing very 
 hard. She dared not raise her eyes to the man 
 beside her. 
 
 "You wish to go now?" he asked, gently. 
 
 "Yes, please," she replied, "I think so; it is very 
 late." 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Helen scarcely knew what happened during the 
 drive home, for she passed it in a half -dazed con 
 dition, almost overwhelmed by what she had done. 
 She answered mechanically to all Mr. Harrison s 
 remarks about his arrangements of the house and 
 his plans elsewhere, but all reference to his wealth 
 seemed powerless to waken in her a trace of the 
 exultation that had swept her away before, while 
 every allusion to their personal relationship was 
 like the touch of fire. Her companion seemed to 
 divine the fact, and again he begged her anxiously 
 not to forget the promise she had given. Helen 
 answered faintly that she would not; but the words 
 were hard for her to say and it was an infinite 
 relief to her to see Oakdale again, and to feel that 
 the strain would soon be over, for the time at any 
 rate. 
 
 "I shall stay somewhere in the neighborhood," 
 said Mr. Harrison. "You will let me see you often, 
 Helen, will you not?" 
 
 "Yes, answered Helen, mechanically. 
 
 "I will come to-morrow," said the other, "and 
 take you driving if you like; I promised to go back 
 and lunch with your aunt to-day, as I thought I was 
 to return to the city." In a moment more the car 
 riage stopped in front of Helen s home, and the 
 girl, without waiting for anyone to assist her, 
 leaped out and with a hasty word of parting, ran 
 into the house. She heard the horses trotting away, 
 and then the door closed behind her, and she stood 
 in the dark, silent hallway. She saw no one, and 
 after gazing about her for a moment she stole into 
 her little music-room and flung herself down upon 
 
 152 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 the couch, where she lay with her head buried in 
 her hands. 
 
 It was a long time afterwards when she glanced 
 up again; she was trembling all over, and her face 
 was white. 
 
 "In Heaven s name, how can I have done it?" 
 she whispered hoarsely, to herself. "How can I 
 have done it? And what am I to do now?" 
 
 U - j J N ^ 
 
 U^-,--^ 
 
 Ky J J *- 
 
 Nur wer der 
 
 Min - ne Macht ent - 
 
 yi 
 
 nfe 
 
 ~bI3 : 
 
 P = 
 
 #? piu P 
 
 m- ] 
 
 PP 
 
 
 3rt 
 
 nur wer der Lie - be Lust ver - Jagf_ 
 
 If 1 
 
 T" 1 
 
 153 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 "Wie kommt s, dass du so traurig bist, 
 
 Da alles froh erscheint? 
 Man sieht dir s an den Augen an, 
 Gewiss, du hast geweint." 
 
 HELEN might have spent the afternoon in that 
 situation, tormenting herself with the doubts and 
 fears that filled her mind, had it not been for the 
 fact that her presence was discovered by Elizabeth, 
 the servant, who came in to clean the room. The 
 latter of course was astonished to see her, but 
 Helen was in no mood to vouchsafe explanations. 
 
 "Just leave me alone," she said. "I do not feel 
 very well. And don t tell father I am here yet." 
 
 "Your father, Miss Helen !" exclaimed the woman ; 
 "didn t you get his letter?" 
 
 "What letter?" And then poor Helen was made 
 aware of another trouble. 
 
 "Mr. Davis wrote Mrs. Roberts last night," 
 answered the servant. "He s gone away." 
 
 "Away!" cried the girl. "Where to?" 
 
 "To New York." Then the woman went on to 
 explain that Mr. Davis had been invited to take the 
 place of a friend who was ill, and had left Oakdale 
 for a week. Helen understood that the letter must 
 have reached her aunt after her own departure. 
 
 "Dear me!" the girl exclaimed, "How unfortu 
 nate! I don t want to sta here alone." 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 But afterwards it flashed over her that if she did 
 she might be able to have a week of quiet to regain 
 her self-possession. "Mr. Harrison couldn t expect 
 to visit me if I were alone," she thought. "But 
 then, I suppose he could, too," she added hastily, 
 "if I am engaged to him! And I could never stand 
 ihat!" 
 
 "Miss Helen," said the servant, who had been 
 standing and watching her anxiously, "you look 
 very ill; is anything the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing," Helen answered, "only I want to rest. 
 Leave me alone, please, Elizabeth." 
 
 "Are you going to stay?" the other asked; "I 
 must fix up your room." 
 
 "I ll have to stay," said Helen. "There s nothing 
 else to do." 
 
 "Have you had lunch yet?" 
 
 "No, but I don t want any; just let me be, please." 
 
 Helen expected the woman to protest, but she did 
 not. She turned away, and the girl sank back upon 
 the couch and covered her face again. 
 
 "Everything has gone wrong!" she groaned to 
 herself, "I know I shall die of despair; I don t want 
 to behere all alone with Mr. Harrison coming here. 
 Dear me, .1 wish I had never seen him!" 
 
 And Helen s nervous impatience grew upon her, 
 until she could stand it no more, and she sprang 
 up and began pacing swiftly up and down the room ; 
 she was still doing that when she heard a step in 
 the hall and saw the faithful servant in the door 
 way with a tray of luncheon. Elizabeth asked no 
 questions about matters that did not concern her, 
 but she regarded this as her province, and she 
 
 55 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 would pay no attention to Helen s protests. "You ll 
 be ill if you don t eat," she vowed; "you look paler 
 than I ever saw you." 
 
 And so the girl sat down to attempt to please 
 her, Elizabeth standing by and talking to her in the 
 meantime; but Helen was so wrapped up in her own 
 thoughts that she scarcely heard a word until the 
 woman chanced to ask one question: "Did you 
 hear about Mr. Arthur?" 
 
 And Helen gazed up at her. "Hear about him?" 
 she said, "hear what about him? 
 
 "He s very ill," said Elizabeth. Helen gave a 
 start. 
 
 "111!" she gasped. 
 
 "Yes," said Elizabeth, "I thought you must 
 know; Mr. Davis was over to see him yesterday." 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 "The doctor said he must have been fearfully run 
 down, and he was out in the storm and caught a 
 cold; and he s been in a very bad way, delirious and 
 unconscious by turns for two or three days." 
 
 Helen was staring at the servant in a dumt) 
 fright. "Tell me, Elizabeth, she cried, scarcely 
 able to say the words, "he is not dangerously ill?" 
 
 "The danger is over now," the other answered, 
 "so the doctor said, or else Mr. Davis would never 
 have left ; but he s in a bad way and it may be some 
 time before he s up again." 
 
 Perhaps it was the girl s overwrought condition 
 that made her more easily alarmed just then, for 
 she was trembling all over as she heard those 
 words. She had forgotten Arthur almost entirely 
 during the past two days, and he came back to 
 
 156 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her at that moment as another thorn in her con 
 science. 
 
 "Mr. Davis said he wrote you to go and see him," 
 went on the servant; "shall you, Miss Helen?" 
 
 "I I don t know," said Helen faintly, "I ll see." 
 
 As a matter of fact, she knew that she almost cer- 
 lainly would not go to see Arthur after what had 
 just passed; even to have him find out about it was 
 something of which she simply could not think. 
 She felt dread enough at having to tell her father of 
 what had occurred with Mr. Harrison, and to see 
 Arthur, even though he did not know about it, she 
 knew was not in her power. 
 
 "Perhaps I ought not to have told you about it 
 until after you had had your lunch; you are not 
 eating anything, Miss Helen." 
 
 "I don t want anything," said Helen, mournfully; 
 "take it now, please, Elizabeth, and please do not 
 1 rouble me any more. I have a great deal to worry 
 me." 
 
 When the w r oman had left the room, Helen shut 
 the door and then sat down on a chair, staring 
 blankly before her; there was a mirror just across 
 the room, and her own image caught her eye, start 
 ling her by its pale and haggard look. 
 
 "Dear me, it s dreadful!" she cried aloud, spring 
 ing up. "Why did I let people trouble me in this 
 way? I can t help Arthur, and I couldn t have 
 helped him in the beginning. It s every bit of it 
 his own fault, and I don t sec why I should let it 
 make me ill. And it s the same with the other 
 thing; I could have been happy without all that 
 
 157 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 wealth if I d never seen it, and now I know I ll 
 never be happy again, oh, I know it!" 
 
 And Helen began once more pacing up and down. 
 
 "I never was this way before in my life," she cried 
 with increasing vexation, "and I won t have it!" 
 
 She clenched her hands angrily, struggling within 
 herself to shake off what was tormenting her. But 
 she might as well have tried to shake off a moun 
 tain from her shoulders; hers had been none of the 
 stern experience that gives power and command 
 to the character, and of the kind of energy that she 
 needed she had none, and not even a thought of it. 
 She tried only to forget her troubles in some of her 
 old pleasures, and when she found that she could 
 not read, and that the music she tried to play 
 sounded hollow and meaningless, she could only 
 fling herself down upon the sofa with a moan. 
 There, realizing her own impotence, she sank into 
 dull despair, unable any longer to realize the diffi 
 culties which troubled her, and with only one cer 
 tainty in her mind that she was more lost and 
 helpless than she had ever thought it possible for 
 her to be. 
 
 Time is not a thing of much consequence under 
 such circumstances, and it was a couple of hours 
 before Helen wa,s aroused. She heard a carriage 
 stop at the door, and sprang up in alarm, with the 
 thought that it might be Mr. Harrison. But as she 
 stood trembling in the middle of the room she heard 
 a voice inquiring for her, and recognized it as that 
 of her aunt; a, moment later Mrs. Roberts rushed 
 into the room, and catching sight of Helen, flung 
 her arms eagerly about her. 
 
 158 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "My dear girl," she cried, "Mr. Harrison has just 
 told me about what has happened!" And then as 
 she read her niece s state of mind in her counte 
 nance, she added, "I expected to find you rejoicing, 
 Helen; what is the matter?" 
 
 In point of fact the woman had known pretty 
 well just how she w r ould find Helen, and having no 
 idea of leaving her to her own tormenting fancies, 
 she had driven over the moment she had finished 
 her lunch. "I received your father s letter," she 
 said, without waiting for Helen to answer her, "so 
 I came right over to take you back." 
 
 "To take me back!" echoed Helen. 
 
 "Yes, my dear; you don t suppose I mean to leave 
 you here all alone by yourself, do you? And espe 
 cially at such a time as this, when Mr. Harrison 
 wants to see you?" 
 
 "But, Aunt Polly," protested Helen, "I don t 
 want to see him!" 
 
 "Don t want to see him? Why, my dear girl, you 
 have promised to be his wife!" 
 
 Mrs. Roberts saw Helen shudder slightly, and so 
 she went on quickly, "He is going to stay at the 
 hotel in the village; you won t find it the same as 
 being in the house with him. But I do assure you, 
 child, there never was a man more madly in love 
 than he is." 
 
 "But, Auntie, dear, that Mr. Howard, too!" pro 
 tested Helen, trembling. 
 
 "He will not interfere with you, for he never 
 makes any noise; and you ll not know he s there. 
 Of course, you won t play the piano, but you can 
 do anything else you choose. And Mr. Harrison 
 
 159 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 will probably take you driving every day." Then 
 seeing how agitated Helen was, her aunt put her 
 arms around her again, and led her to the sofa. 
 "Come, Helen," she said, "I don t blame you for 
 being nervous. I know just how you feel, my dear." 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Polly!" moaned the girl. "I am so 
 wretched!" 
 
 "I know," laughed Aunt Polly; "it s the idea of 
 having to marry him, I suppose; I felt the very same 
 way when I was in your place. But you ll find that 
 wears off very quickly; you ll get used to seeing 
 him. And besides, you know that you ve got to 
 marry him, if you want any of the other happiness !" 
 
 And Mrs. Roberts stopped and gazed about her. 
 "Think, for instance, my dear/ she went on, "of 
 having to be content with this dingy little room, 
 after having seen that magnificent place of his! 
 Do you know, Helen, dear, that I really envy you; 
 and it seems quite ridiculous to come over here 
 and find you moping around. One would think you 
 were a hermit and did not care anything about 
 life." 
 
 "I do care about it," said the other, "and I love 
 beautiful things and all; but, Aunt Polly, I can t 
 help thinking it s dreadful to have to marry." 
 
 "Come and learn to like Mr. Harrison," said the 
 other, cheerfully. "Helen, you are really too weak 
 to ruin your peace of mind in this way; for you 
 could see if you chose that all your troubles are of 
 your own making, and that if you were really de 
 termined to be happy, you could do it. Why don t 
 you, dear?" 
 
 160 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I don t know, 1 protested the girl, faintly; "per 
 haps 1 am weak, but I can t help it." 
 
 "Of course not," laughed the other, "if you spend 
 your afternoons shut up in a half-dark room like 
 this. When you come with me you won t be able 
 to do that way; and I tell you you ll find there s 
 nothing like having social duties and an appearance 
 to maintain in the world to keep one cheerful. If 
 you didn t have me at your elbow I really believe 
 you d go all to pieces." 
 
 "I fear I should," said the girl; but she could not 
 help laughing as she allowed herself to be led up 
 stairs, and to have the dust bathed from her face 
 and the wrinkles smoothed from her brow. In the 
 meantime her diplomatic aunt was unobtrusively 
 dropping as many hints as she could think of to stir 
 Helen to a sense of the fact that she had suddenly 
 become a person of consequence; and whether it 
 was these hints or merely the reaction natural to 
 Helen, it is certain that she was much calmer when 
 she went down to the carriage, and much more dis 
 posed to resign herself to meeting Mr. Harrison 
 again. And Mrs. Roberts was correspondingly glad 
 that she had been foreseeing enough to come and 
 carry her away; she had great confidence in her 
 ability to keep Helen from foolish worrying, and to 
 interest her in the great future that was before her. 
 
 "And then it s just as well that she should be at 
 my house where she can find the comfort that she 
 loves," she reflected. "I can see that she learns to 
 love it more every day." 
 
 The great thing, of course, was to keep her ambi 
 tion as much awake as possible, and so during the 
 ii 161 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 drive home Mrs. Roberts conversation was of the 
 excitement which the announcement of Helen s en 
 gagement would create in the social world, and of 
 the brilliant triumph which the rest of her life 
 would be, and of the vast preparations which she 
 was to make for it. The trousseau soon came in for 
 mention then; and what woman could have been 
 indifferent to a trousseau, even for a marriage which 
 she dreaded? After that the conversation was no 
 longer a task, for Helen s animation never failed 
 to build itself up when it was once awake; she was 
 so pleased and eager that the drive was over before 
 she knew it, and before she had had time for even 
 one unpleasant thought about meeting Mr. Har 
 rison. 
 
 It proved not to be a difficult task after all, for 
 Mr. Harrison was quiet and dignifie-d, and even a 
 little reserved, as Helen thought, so that it oc 
 curred to her that perhaps he was offended at the 
 vehemence with which she had repelled him. She 
 did not know, but it seemed to her that perhaps 
 it might have been his right to embrace her after 
 she had promised to marry him; the thought made 
 her shudder, yet she felt sure that if she had asked 
 her aunt she would have learned that she was very 
 much in the wrong indeed. Helen s conscience was 
 very restless just at that time, and it was pleasant 
 to be able to lull it by being a little more gracious 
 and kind to her ardent lover. The latter of course 
 responded joyfully, so that the remainder of the 
 afternoon passed quite pleasantly. 
 
 When Mr. Roberts arrived and had been ac 
 quainted with the tidings, he of course sought the 
 
 162 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 first opportunity to see the girl, and to congratulate 
 her upon her wonderful fortune. Helen had always 
 found in her uncle a grave, business-like person, 
 who treated her with indifference, and therefore 
 inspired her with awe; it was not a little stirring to 
 her vanity to find that she was now a person of 
 sufficient consequence to reverse the relation. This 
 fact did yet a little more to make her realize the 
 vastness of her sudden conquest, and so throughout 
 dinner she was almost as exulting in her own heart 
 as she had been at the same time on the previous 
 day. 
 
 Her animation mounted throughout the evening, 
 for Mr. Harrison and her aunt talked of the future 
 of endless trips abroad, and of palatial houses 
 and royal entertainments at home until the girl 
 was completely dazed. Afterwards, when she and 
 Mr. Harrison were left alone, Helen fascinated her 
 companion as completely as ever, and was radiant 
 herself, and rejoicing. As if to cap the climax, 
 Mr. Harrison broached the subject of a trip to New 
 York, to see if she could find anything at the vari 
 ous picture dealers to suit her music room, and also 
 of a visit to Fairview to meet an architect and dis 
 cuss her plan there. 
 
 The girl went up to her room just as completely 
 full of exultation as she had been upon the night 
 before, yet more comfortable in the conviction that 
 there would be no repetition of that night s worry. 
 Yet even as the thought occurred to her, it made 
 her tremble; and as if some fiend had arranged it 
 especially for her torment, as she passed down the 
 hall a nurse came silently out of one of the rooms, 
 
 163 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 and through the half open doorway Helen fancied 
 that she heard a low moan. She shuddered and 
 darted into her own room and locked the door; yet 
 that did not exclude the image of the sufferer, or 
 keep it from suggesting a train of thought that 
 plunged the girl into misery. It made her think of 
 Arthur, and of the haggard look that had been 
 upon his face when he left her; and all Helen s 
 angry assertions that it was not her fault could 
 not keep her from tormenting herself after that. 
 Always the fact was before her that however sick 
 he might be, even dying, she could never bear to 
 see him again, and so Arthur became the embodi 
 ment of her awakening conscience. 
 
 The result was that the girl slept very little that 
 night, spending half of it in fact alternately sitting 
 in a chair and pacing the room in agitation, striv 
 ing in vain to find some gleam of light to guide her 
 out of the mazes in which she was lost. The gray 
 dawn found her tossing feverishly about upon her 
 pillow, yearning for the time when she had been 
 happy, and upbraiding herself for having been 
 drawn into her present trouble. 
 
 When she arose later on, she was more pale and 
 wearied than she had been upon the morning be 
 fore; then she had at least possessed a resolution, 
 while this time she was only helpless and despair 
 ing. Thus her aunt found her when she came in to 
 greet her, and the dismay of the worthy matron 
 may be imagined. 
 
 However, being an indefatigable little body, she 
 set bravely to work again; first of all, by rebuking 
 the girl for her weakness she managed to rouse 
 
 164 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her to effort once more, and then by urging the 
 necessity of seeing people and of hiding her weak 
 ness, she managed to obtain at last a semblance 
 of cheerfulness. In the meantime Mrs. Roberts 
 was helping her to dress and to remove all traces 
 of her unhappiness, so that when Helen descended 
 to breakfast she had received her first lesson in one 
 of the chief tasks of the social regime: 
 
 "Full many in the silent night 
 Have wept their grief away; 
 And in the morn you fancy 
 Their hearts were ever gay." 
 
 And Helen played her part so well that Mrs. Rob 
 erts was much encouraged, and beamed upon her 
 across the table. As a matter of fact, because her 
 natural happiness was not all crushed, and because 
 playing a part was not easy to the girl, she was 
 very soon interested in the various plans that were 
 being discussed. When Mr. Harrison called later 
 on and proposed a drive, she accepted with genuine 
 pleasure. 
 
 To be sure, she found it a trifle less thrilling than 
 on the day before, for the novelty was gone; but 
 that fact did not cause her much worry. In all her 
 anticipations of the pleasure before her, it had oc 
 curred to her as little as it occurs to others in her 
 situation to investigate the laws of the senses 
 through which the pleasure is to be obtained. 
 There is a whole moral philosophy to be extracted 
 from the little word "ennui by those who know; 
 but Helen was not of the knowing. She believed 
 that when she was tired of the horses she could 
 
 165 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 delight herself with her beautiful house, and that 
 when she was tired of the house she could have a 
 new one. All her life she had been deriving ecstasy 
 from beautiful things, from dresses, and flowers, and 
 books, and music, and pictures; and of course it 
 was only necessary to have an infinite quantity of 
 such things in order to be infinitely happy. The 
 way to have the infinite quantity was to marry 
 Mr. Harrison, or at any rate that was Helen s view, 
 and she was becoming more and more irritated be 
 cause it did not work well in practice, and more 
 and more convinced that her aunt must be right in 
 blaming her weakness. 
 
 In the meantime, being in the open air and among 
 all the things that she loved, she was bound to re 
 joice once more; and rejoice she did, not even allow 
 ing herself to be hindered by Mr. Harrison s too 
 obvious failures to comprehend her best remarks. 
 Helen argued that she was not engaged to the man 
 because of his cleverness, and that when she had 
 come to the infinite happiness towards which she 
 was traveling so fast, she would have inspiration 
 enough for two. She had enough for the present to 
 keep them both happy throughout the drive, and 
 when she returned she found that some of the neigh 
 bors had driven over to see her, and to increase her 
 excitement by their congratulations. The Machi 
 avellian Aunt Polly had told the news to several 
 friends on the day before, knowing full well that it 
 would spread during . the night, and that Helen 
 would have her first taste of triumph the next day. 
 
 And so it continued, and exactly as on the night 
 before, the feverish excitement swept Helen on 
 
 j66 
 
KING MIDAS, 
 
 until the bedtime hour arrived. Then she went up 
 into her room alone, to wrestle with the same dread 
 ful specter as before. 
 
 The story of that day was the story of all that 
 followed; Helen was destined to find that she might 
 sweep herself away upon the wings of her ambition 
 as often as she chose, and revel all she pleased in 
 the thought of Mr. Harrison s wealth; but when the 
 excitement was over, and she came to be all alone, 
 she could think only of the one dreadful fact of the 
 necessity of marrying him. She was paying a 
 Faustus price for her happiness; and in the night 
 time the price stared at her, and turned all her 
 happiness to misery. 
 
 A state of mind such as this was so alien to Helen 
 that it would have been strange indeed if she had 
 sunk into it without protest and rebellion; as day 
 after day passed, and the misery continued, her 
 dissatisfaction with everything about her built 
 itself into a climax; more and more plainly she 
 was coming to see the widening of the gulf between 
 the phantom she was pursuing and the place, where 
 she stood. Finally there came one day, nearly a 
 week after her engagement, when Helen was so 
 exhausted and so wretched that she had made up 
 her mind to remain in her room, and had withstood 
 all her aunt s attempts, to dissuade her. She had 
 passed the morning in bed, between equally vain 
 attempts to become interested in a book and to 
 make up for the sleep she had missed during the 
 night, and was just about giving up both in despair 
 when the maid entered to say that Elizabeth wished 
 to see her. Helen gave a start, for she knew that 
 
 167 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 something must be wrong; when the woman en 
 tered she asked breathlessly what it was. 
 
 "It s about Mr. Arthur," was the hurried reply, 
 and Helen turned paler than ever, and clutched 
 the bedclothing in her trembling hands. 
 
 "What is it? she cried. 
 
 "Why you know, Miss Helen," said Elizabeth, 
 "your father wrote me to go and see him whenever 
 I could, and .I ve just come from there this morn 
 ing." 
 
 "And how is he?" 
 
 "He looked dreadful, but he had gotten up to-day, 
 and he was sitting by the window when I came in. 
 He was hardly a shadow of himself." 
 
 Helen was trembling. "You have not been to see 
 him?" asked the woman. 
 
 "No," said Helen, faintly, "I " and then she 
 
 stopped. 
 
 "Why not?" Elizabeth inquired anxiously. 
 
 "He did not ask for me, did he?" asked the girl, 
 scarcely able to utter the words. 
 
 "No," said the woman, "but you know, everybody 
 told me you were engaged to a rich man " 
 
 And Helen started forward with a cry. "Eliza 
 beth!" she gasped, "you you didn t !" 
 
 "Yes," said the other, "I told him." And then 
 seeing the girl s look of terror, she stopped short. 
 Helen stared at her for fully half a minute with 
 out uttering a word; and then the woman went on, 
 slowly, "It was very dreadful, Miss Helen; he went 
 almost crazy, and I was so frightened that I didn t 
 know what I should do. Please tell me what is the 
 matter." 
 
 168 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Helen was still gazing dumbly at the woman, 
 seeming not to have heard the last question. "I I 
 can t tell you," she said, when it was repeated 
 again; "you ought not to have told him, Elizabeth." 
 
 "Miss Helen,- cried the woman, anxiously, "you 
 must do something! For I am sure that I know 
 what is the matter; he loves you, and you must 
 know it, too. And it will certainly kill him; weak 
 as he was, he rushed out of the house, and I could 
 not find him anywhere. Miss Helen, you must go 
 and see him!" 
 
 The girl sat with the same look of helpless fright 
 upon her face, and with her hands clenched tightly 
 between her knees; the other went on talking hur 
 riedly, but Helen scarcely heard anything after 
 that; her mind was too full of its own thoughts. It 
 was several minutes more before she even noticed 
 that the woman was still insisting that she must 
 go to see Artheur. "Please leave me now!" she 
 cried wildly; "please leave me! I cannot explain 
 anything, I want to be alone!" And when the door 
 was shut she became once more dumb and motion 
 less, staring blankly ahead of her, a helpless victim 
 of her own wretched thoughts. 
 
 "That is the end of it," she groaned to herself; 
 "oh, that is the end of it!" 
 
 .^j^.- _ ^ 
 
 Winkt dirnicht hold die heh - re Burg? 
 
 169 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Thou would st be happy, 
 
 Endlessly happy, 
 
 Or endlessly wretched. 
 
 HELEN was quite powerless to do anything what 
 ever after that last piece of misfortune; it seemed 
 as if she could have remained just where she was 
 for hours, shuddering at the sight of what was hap 
 pening, yet utterly helpless before it. The world 
 was taking a very serious aspect indeed to the 
 bright and laughing girl, who had thought of it as 
 the home of birds and flowers; yet she knew not 
 what to make of the change, or how she was to 
 blame for it, and she could only sit still and tremble. 
 She was in the same position and the same state of 
 mind when her aunt entered the room some minutes 
 later. 
 
 Mrs. Roberts stood watching her silently, and 
 then as Helen turned her gaze of pleading misery 
 upon her, she came forward and sat down in a chair 
 by the bedside, and fixed her keen eyes upon the 
 girl. 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Polly!" cried Helen; "what am I to 
 do? I am so wretched!" 
 
 "I have just been talking to Elizabeth," said Mrs. 
 Roberts, with some sternness, "and she s been tell 
 ing you about Arthur is that what is the matter 
 with you, Helen?" 
 
 170 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Yes," was the trembling response, "what can I 
 do?" 
 
 "Tell me, Helen, in the first place," demanded the 
 other. "When you saw Arthur that day in the 
 woods, what did you do? Did you make him any 
 promises?" 
 
 "No, Auntie." 
 
 "Did you hold out any hopes to him? Did .VWR 
 say anything to him at all about love?" 
 
 "I I told him it was impossible," said Helen, 
 eagerly, clutching at that little crumb of comfort. 
 
 "Then in Heaven s name, child," cried the other 
 in amazement, "what is the matter with you? If 
 Arthur chooses to carry on in this fashion, why in 
 the world should you punish yourself in this hor 
 rible way? What is the matter with you, Helen? 
 Are you responsible to him for your marriage? I 
 don t know which is the most absurd, the boy s be 
 havior, or your worrying about it." 
 
 "But, Auntie," stammered the girl, "he is so ill 
 he might die!" 
 
 "Die, bosh!" exclaimed Mrs. Roberts; "he fright 
 ened Elizabeth by his ravings; it is the most ab 
 surd nonsense, he a penniless school-teacher, and 
 the Lord only knows what besides! I only wish 
 I d been there to talk to him, for I don t think he d 
 have frightened me! What in the world do you 
 suppose he wants, anyway? Is he mad enough to 
 expect you to marry him?" 
 
 "I don t know, Aunt Polly," said Helen, weakly. 
 
 "I d never have believed that Arthur could be 
 capable of anything so preposterous as this be 
 havior," vowed Mrs. Roberts; "and then to come 
 
 171 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 up here and find you wearing yourself to a skeleton 
 about it!" 
 
 "It isn t only that, Auntie," protested Helen, 
 "there is so much else; I am miserable!" 
 
 "Yes," said the other, grimly; "I see it as well 
 as you, and there s just about as much reason in any 
 of it as in the matter of Arthur." Then Mrs. Rob 
 erts moved her chair nearer, and after gazing at 
 Helen for a moment, began again. "I ve been mean 
 ing to say something to you, and it might just as 
 well be said now. For all this matter is coming to 
 a climax, Helen; it can t go on this way very much 
 longer, for you ll kill yourself. It s got to be settled 
 one way or the other, once and for all." And Mrs. 
 Roberts stopped and took a deep breath, preparing 
 for one more struggle; Helen still gazed at her 
 helplessly. 
 
 "I m not going to say anything more about Ar 
 thur," declared the woman; "if you choose to tor 
 ment yourself about such absurdities, I can t help 
 it. Arthur s behavior is not the least your fault, 
 and you know it; but all the other trouble is your 
 fault, and there s nobody else to blame. For the 
 question is just as simple as the day, Helen, and you 
 must see it and decide it; you ve got to choose be 
 tween one of two things, either to marry Mr. Harri 
 son or to give him up; and there s no excuse for 
 your hesitating and tormenting yourself one day 
 longer." 
 
 Then the indomitable woman set to work at her 
 old task of conjuring up before the girl s eyes all 
 the allurements that had so often made her heart 
 throb; she. pictured Fairview and all its luxuries, 
 
 172 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 and the admiration and power that must be hers 
 when she was mistress of it; and she mentioned 
 every other source of pleasure that she knew would 
 stir Helen s eager thirst. After having hammered 
 away at that theme until she saw signs of the effect 
 she desired, she turned to the other side of the 
 picture. 
 
 "Helen, she demanded, "is it really possible for 
 you to think of giving up these things and going 
 back to live in that miserable little house at Oak- 
 dale? Can you not see that you would be simply 
 burying yourself alive? You might just as well 
 be as ugly as those horrible Nelson girls across the 
 way. Helen, you know you belong to a different sta 
 tion in life than those people! You know you have 
 a right to some of the beautiful things in the world, 
 and you know that after this vision of everything 
 perfect that you have seen, you can never possibly 
 be happy in your ignorant girlish way again. You 
 have promised Mr. Harrison to marry him, and 
 made him go to all the expense that he has; and 
 you ve told everybody you know, and all the world 
 is talking about your triumph; and you ve had Mr. 
 Roberts go to all the trouble he has about your 
 trousseau, surely, Helen, you cannot dream of 
 changing your mind and giving all this up. It is 
 ridiculous to talk about it." 
 
 "I don t want to give it up," protested the girl, 
 moaning, "but, oh, I can t 
 
 "I know!" exclaimed the other. "I ve heard all 
 that a thousand times. Don t you see, Helen, that 
 you ve simply got to marry him! There is no other 
 possibility to think of, and all of y/mr weakness 
 
 i73 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 is that you don t perceive that fact, and make up 
 your mind to it. Just see how absurd you are, to 
 make yourself ill in this way." 
 
 But I can t help it, Auntie, indeed I can t!" 
 
 "You could help it if you wanted to," vowed the 
 other. "I am quite disgusted with you. I have told 
 you a thousand times that this is all an imaginary 
 terror that you are conjuring up for yourself, to 
 ruin your health and happiness. When you have 
 married him you will see that it s just as I tell you, 
 and you ll laugh at yourself for feeling as you did." 
 
 "But it s in the, meantime, Aunt Polly it s hav 
 ing to think about it that frightens me." 
 
 "Well, let me tell you one thing," said Mrs. Rob 
 erts; "if I found that I couldn t cure myself of such 
 weakness as this, sooner than let it ruin my life and 
 make everyone about me wretched, I d settle the 
 matter right now and forever; I d marry him within 
 a week, Helen!" And the resolute little woman 
 clenched her hands grimly. "Yes, I would," she ex 
 claimed, "and if I found I hadn t strength enough 
 to hold my resolution, I d marry him to-morrow, 
 and there d be an end to it!" 
 
 "You don t realize, Helen, how you treat Mr. 
 Harrison," she went on, as the girl shuddered; 
 "and how patient he is. You d not find many men 
 like him in that respect, my dear. For he s madly 
 in love with you, and you treat him as coldly as if 
 he were a stranger. I can see that, for I watch 
 you, and I can see how it offends him. You have 
 promised to be his wife, Helen, and yet you be 
 have in this ridiculous way. You are making your 
 self ill, and you look years older every day, yet 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 you make not the least attempt to conquer your 
 self." 
 
 So she went on, and Helen began to feel more and 
 more that she was doing a very great wrong in 
 deed. Mrs. Roberts sharp questioning finally drew 
 from her the story of her reception of Mr. Harri 
 son s one kiss, and Helen was made to seem quite 
 ridiculous and even rude in her own eyes; her aunt 
 lectured her with such unaccustomed sternness 
 that she was completely frightened, and came to 
 look upon her action as the cause of all the rest of 
 her misery. 
 
 "It s precisely on that a.ccount that you still re 
 gard him as a stranger, Mrs. Roberts vowed; "of 
 course he makes no more advances, and you might 
 go on forever in that way." Helen promised that 
 the next time she was alone with Mr. Harrison she 
 would apologize for her rudeness, and treat him in 
 a different manner. 
 
 "I wish," Mi*s. Roberts went on, "that I could 
 only make you see as plainly as I see, Helen, how 
 very absurd your conduct is. Day by day you are 
 filling your mind with the thought of the triumph 
 that is to be yours, so that it takes hold of you 
 and becomes all your life to you; and all the time 
 you know that to possess it there is one thing which 
 you have got to do. And instead of realizing the 
 fact and reconciling yourself to it, you sit down and 
 torment yourself as if you were a creature without 
 reason or will. Can you not see that you must be 
 wretched?" 
 
 "Yes, I see," said Helen, weakly. 
 
 "You see it, but you make no effort to do any- 
 
 175 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 thing else! You make me almost give you up in 
 despair. You will not see that this weakness has 
 only to be conquered once, and that then your life 
 can be happy!" 
 
 "But, Auntie, dear," exclaimed Helen, "it is so 
 hard!" 
 
 "Anything in life would be hard for a person who 
 had no more resolution than you," responded the 
 other. "Because you know nothing about the world, 
 you fancy you are doing something very unusual 
 and dreadful; but I assure you it s what every girl 
 has to do when she marries in society. And there s 
 no one of them but would laugh at your behavior; 
 you just give Mr. Harrison up, and see how long 
 it would be before somebody else would take him! 
 Oh, child, how I wish I could give you a little of 
 my energy; you would go to the life that is before 
 you in a very different way, I promise you! For 
 really the only way that you can have any happi 
 ness in the world is to be strong and take it, and if 
 you once had a purpose and some determination 
 you would feel like a different person. Make up 
 your mind what you wish to do, Helen, and go and 
 do it, and take hold of yourself and master your 
 self, and show what you are made of!" 
 
 Aunt Polly was quite sublime as she delivered 
 that little exordium; and to the girl, anxious as 
 she was for her old strength and happiness, the 
 words were like music. They made her blood flow 
 again, and there was a light in her eyes. 
 
 "Oh, Auntie," she said, "I ll try to." 
 
 "Try!" echoed the other, "what comes of all your 
 trying? You have been reveling for a week in 
 
 176 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 visions of what is to be yours; and that ought 
 surely to have been enough time for you to make 
 up your mind; and yet every time that I find you 
 alone, all your resolution is gone; you simply have 
 no strength, Helen!" 
 
 "Oh, I will have it!" cried the girl; "I don t mean 
 to do this way any more; I never saw it so plainly." 
 
 "You see it now, because Fm talking to you, and 
 you always do see it then. But I should think the 
 very terror of what you have suffered would serve 
 as a motive, and make you quite desperate. Can 
 you not see that your very safety depends upon 
 your taking this resolution and keeping it, and not 
 letting go of it, no matter what happens? From 
 what I ve seen of you, Helen, I know that if you do 
 not summon all your energies together, and fling 
 aside every purpose but this, and act upon it now?, 
 while you feel it so keenly, you will surely fail. 
 For anybody can withstand a temptation for a 
 while, when his mind is made up; all the trouble 
 is in keeping it made up for a long time. I tell you 
 if I found I was losing, sooner than surrender I 
 would do anything, absolutely anything!" 
 
 Mrs. Roberts had many more words of that heroic 
 kind; she was a vigorous little body, and she was 
 quite on fire with enthusiasm just then, and with 
 zeal for the consummation of the great triumph. 
 Perhaps there is no occupation of men quite with 
 out its poetry, and even a society leader may attain 
 to the sublime in her devotion to life as she sees it. 
 Besides that the over-zealous woman was exalted 
 to eloquence just then by a feeling that she was 
 nearer her goal than ever before, and that she had 
 12 177 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 only to spur Helen on and keep her in her present 
 glow to clinch the matter; for the girl was very 
 much excited indeed, and showed both by what 
 she said and by the change in her behavior that 
 she was determined to have an end to her own 
 wretchedness and to conquer her shrinking from 
 her future husband at any cost. During all the 
 time that she was dressing, her aunt was stirring 
 her resolution with the same appeal, so that Helen 
 felt that she had never seen her course so clearly 
 before, or had so much resolution to follow it. She 
 spread out her arms and drank deep breaths of 
 relief because she was free from her misery, and 
 knew how to keep so; and at the same time, be 
 cause she still felt tremblings of fear, she clenched 
 her hands in grim earnestness. When she was 
 ready to descend she was flushed and trembling 
 with excitement, and quite full of her resolution. 
 "She won t have to go very far," Mrs. Roberts 
 mused, "for the man is madly in love with her." 
 
 "I want you to look as beautiful as you can, 
 dear/ she said aloud, by way of changing the sub 
 ject; "besides Mr. Harrison, there ll be another 
 visitor at lunch to-day." 
 
 "A stranger?" echoed Helen. 
 
 "You remember, dear, when I told you of Mr. 
 Howard I spoke of a third person who was coming 
 Lieutenant Maynard?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said the girl; "is he here?" 
 
 "Just until the late train this evening," answered 
 the other. "He got his leave as he expected, but of 
 course he didn t want to come while Mr. Howard 
 was so ill," 
 
 178 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Helen remembered with a start having heard 
 someone sa,y that Mr. Howard was better. "Auntie," 
 she cried, "he won t be at lunch, will he? I don t 
 want to see him/ 
 
 "He won t, dear," was the reply; "the doctor said 
 he could leave his room to-day, but it will be after 
 wards, when you have gone driving with Mr. 
 Harrison." 
 
 "And will he leave soon?" asked Helen, shud 
 dering; the mention of the invalid s name had in 
 stantly brought to her mind the thought of Arthur. 
 
 "He w r ill leave to-morrow, I presume; he prob 
 ably knows he has caused us trouble enough," 
 answered Mrs. Roberts; and then reading Helen s 
 thought, and seeing a sign upon her face of the old 
 worry, she made haste to lead her down the stairs. 
 
 Helen found Mr. Harrison in conversation with a 
 tall, distinguished-looking man in naval uniform, to 
 whom she was introduced by her aunt; the girl 
 saw that the officer admired her, which was only 
 another stimulant to her energies, so that she 
 was at her cleverest during the meal that followed. 
 She accepted the invitation of Mr. Harrison to go 
 with him to Fairview during the afternoon, and 
 after having been in her room all the morning, she 
 was looking forward to the drive with no little 
 pleasure, as also to the meeting with the architect 
 whom Mr. Harrison said would be there. 
 
 It seemed once as if the plan were to be inter 
 rupted, and as if her excitement and resolution 
 were to come to naught, for a telegram arrived 
 for Mr. Harrison, and he announced that he was 
 ailed away to New York upon some business. 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 But as it proved, this was only another circum 
 stance to urge her on in carrying out her defiant 
 resolution, for Mr. Harrison added that he would 
 not have to leave until the evening, and her aunt 
 gazed at the girl significantly, to remind her of 
 how little time there was. Helen felt her heart 
 give a sudden leap, and felt a disagreeable trem 
 bling seize upon her; her animation became more 
 feverish yet in consequence. 
 
 After the luncheon, when she ran up for her hat 
 and gloves, her aunt followed her, but Helen shook 
 her off with a laughing assurance that everything 
 would be all right, and then ran out into the hall 
 way; she did not go on, however, for something 
 that she saw caused her to spring quickly back, and 
 turn pale. 
 
 "What is it?" whispered her aunt, as Helen put 
 her finger to her lips. 
 
 "It s her replied the girl, shuddering; "wait!" 
 
 "He" was the unfortunate invalid, who was pass 
 ing down the hallway upon the arm of Lieutenant 
 Maynard; Helen shook her head at all her aunt s 
 laughing protests, and could not be induced to leave 
 the room until the two had passed on; then she 
 ran down, and leaving the house by another door, 
 sprang into the carriage with Mr. Harrison and was 
 whirled away, waving a laughing good-by to her 
 aunt. 
 
 The fresh air and the swift motion soon com 
 pleted the reaction from Helen s morning unhap- 
 piness; and as generally happened when she was 
 much excited, her imagination carried her away in 
 one of her wild flights of joy, so that her companion 
 
 180 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 was as much lost as ever in admiration and delight. 
 Helen told him countless stories, and made count 
 less half -comprehended witticisms, and darted a 
 great many mischievous glances which were com 
 prehended much better; when they had passed 
 within the gates of Fairview, being on private land 
 she felt even less need of restraint, and sang u l)ich, 
 theure Halle, griiss ich wieder!" and laughed at 
 her own cleverness quite as much as if her com 
 panion had understood it all. 
 
 After that it was a new delight to discover that 
 work was progressing rapidly upon the trimming 
 of the forest and the turning of the grass-grown 
 road into a broad avenue; likewise the "hay crop 
 was in, and the lawn plowed and raked and ready 
 for grass seed, and the undesirable part of the old 
 furniture carted away, all of which things Helen 
 knew had been done according to her commands. 
 And scarcely had all this been appreciated prop 
 erly before the architect arrived; Helen was pleased 
 with him because for one thing he was evidently 
 very much impressed by her beauty, and for an 
 other because he entered so understandingly into 
 all her ideas. He and the girl spent a couple of the 
 happiest hours in discussing the details of the won 
 derful music room, a thing which seemed to her 
 more full of delightful possibilities than any other 
 in all her radiant future; it was a sort of a child s 
 dream to her, with a fairy godmother to make it 
 real, and her imagination ran riot in a vision of 
 banks of flowers, and of paintings of all things that 
 embody the joys of music, the "shapes that haunt 
 thought s wildernesses." At night the whole was 
 
 181 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 to be illuminated in such a way as to give these 
 verisimilitude, and in the daytime it would be no 
 less beautiful, because it was to be almost all glass 
 upon two sides. Helen was rejoiced that the 
 architect realized the importance of the fact that 
 "a music room ought to be out of doors;" and then 
 as she made the further welcome discovery that 
 the moon would shine into it, she vowed eagerly 
 that there would be no lights at all in her music 
 room at those times. Afterwards she told a funny 
 story of how Schumann had been wont to improvise 
 under such circumstances, until his next-door neigh 
 bor was so struck by the romance of it that he 
 proceeded to imitate it, and to play somebody or 
 other s technical studies whenever the moon rose; 
 at which narrative Helen and the architect laughed 
 very heartily, and Mr. Harrison with them, though 
 he would not have known the difference between 
 a technical study and the "Moonlight Sonata." 
 
 Altogether, Helen was about as happy as 
 ever throughout that afternoon, tho one who 
 watched her closely might have thought there was 
 something nervous about her animation, especially 
 later on, when the talk with the architect was near- 
 ing its end; Helen s eyes had once or twice wan 
 dered uneasily about the room, and when finally 
 the man rose to leave, she asked him with a sud 
 den desperate resolution to look over the rest of 
 the rooms and see what he thought of her sugges 
 tions. The latter expressed himself as pleased to 
 oblige her, but he would probably have been some 
 what chagrined had he known how little Helen 
 really attended to his remarks; her mind was in a 
 
 182 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 whirl, and all that he said sounded distant and 
 vague; her one wish was that he might stay and 
 give her time to think. 
 
 Hut Helen found the uselessness of shrinking, 
 and the time came at last when she saw to her de 
 spair that there was no more to say, and that the 
 man must go. In a few minutes more he was 
 actually gone, and she was left all alone in the 
 great house with Mr. Harrison. 
 
 The two went back into the dining room, where 
 Mr. Harrison stood leaning his hand upon the 
 table, and Helen stood in front of him, her lips 
 trembling. Twice she made a faint attempt to 
 speak, and then she turned and began pacing up 
 and down the room in agitation. Mr. Harrison was 
 watching her, seeing that there was something on 
 her mind, and also that her emotion made her more 
 beautiful and more disturbing to him than ever. 
 
 At last Helen went and sat down upon a sofa at 
 one side, and clenching her hands very tightly about 
 her knees, looked up at him and said, in a faint 
 voice, "I had something to say to you, Mr. Harri 
 son." Then she stopped, and her eyes fell, and her 
 breath came very hard. 
 
 "What is it, dear?" asked Mr. Harrison gently. 
 
 And Helen s lips trembled more than ever, and 
 her voice sank still lower as she said, U I I don t 
 know how to begin." 
 
 The other was silent for a few moments more, 
 :ifi*r which he came slowly across the room and 
 sat down beside her. 
 
 "Helen," he said, "I had something to say to you 
 also; suppose I say it first?" 
 
 183 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 The girl s chest was heaving painfully, and her 
 heart throbbing violently, but she gazed into his 
 eyes, and smiled, and answered him "Very well. 
 He took one of her burning hands in his, and she 
 made no resistance. 
 
 "Helen, dear," he said, "do you remember it was 
 nearly a week ago that we stood in this same room, 
 and that you promised to be my wife? You were 
 very cold to me then. I have been waiting patiently 
 for you to change a little, not venturing to say any 
 thing for fear of offending you. But it. is very 
 hard " 
 
 He had bent forward pleadingly, and his face was 
 very close to hers, trying to read her heart. Per 
 haps it was well that he could not, for it would 
 have frightened him. The moment was one of fear 
 ful suffering for Helen, tho there was no sign 
 of it, except that she was trembling like a leaf, and 
 that her lips were white. There was just a moment 
 of suspense, and then with a cruel effort she mas 
 tered herself and gazed up at the man, a smile fore 
 ing itself to her lips again. 
 
 "What is it that you wish?" she asked. 
 
 "I want you to care for me," the other said "to 
 love me just a little, Helen; will you?" 
 
 "I I think so," was the reply, in a scarcely 
 audible voice. 
 
 And Mr. Harrison pressed her hand in his and 
 bent forward eagerly. "Then I may kiss you, 
 dear?" he asked; "you will not mind?" 
 
 And Helen bowed her head and answered, "No." 
 In this same instant, as she sank forward the man 
 clasped her in his arms; he pressed her upon his 
 
 184 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 bosom, and covered her cheeks and forehead with 
 his passionate, burning kisses. Helen, crushed and 
 helpless in his grasp, felt a revulsion of feeling so 
 sudden and so overwhelming that it was an agony 
 to her, and she almost screamed aloud. She was 
 choking and shuddering, and her cheeks were on 
 fire, while in the meantime Mr. Harrison, almost 
 beside himself with passion, pressed her tighter to 
 him and poured out his protestations of devotion. 
 Helen bore it until she was almost mad with the 
 emotion that had rushed over her, and then she 
 made a wild effort to tear herself free. Her hair 
 was disordered, and her face red, and her whole 
 being throbbing with shame, but he still held her in 
 his tight embrace. 
 
 "You are not angry, Helen dear?" he asked. 
 
 "No," the girl gasped 
 
 "You told me that I might kiss you," he said ; and 
 she was so choking with her emotion that she could 
 not answer a word, she could only shudder and sub 
 mit to his will. And Mr. Harrison, supposing that 
 her emotions were very different from what they 
 were, rested her head upon his shoulder, smooth 
 ing back her tangled hair and whispering into her 
 ear how beautiful she was beyond any dream of 
 his, and how the present moment was the happiest 
 of his lifetime. 
 
 "I thought it would never come, dear," he said, 
 kissing her forehead again, "you were so very cold." 
 Helen had not yet ceased fighting the fearful 
 battle in her own heart, and so as he looked into her 
 eyes, she gazed up at him and forced another 
 ghastly smile to her lips: they looked so very beau- 
 
 185 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 tiful that Mr. Harrison kissed them again and 
 again, and he would probably have been content to 
 kiss them many times more, and to forget every 
 thing else in the bliss, had Helen been willing. 
 
 But she felt just then that if the strain continued 
 longer she would go mad; with a laugh that was 
 half hysterical, she tore herself loose by main 
 force, and sprang up, reminding the other that he 
 had a train to catch. Mr. Harrison demurred, but 
 the girl would hear no more, and she took him by 
 the hand and led him to the door, still laughing, 
 and very much flushed and excited, so that he 
 thought she was happier than ever. It would have 
 startled him could he have seen her as he went to 
 call for the horses, how she staggered and clung 
 to a pillar for support, as white as the marble she 
 leaned against. 
 
 He did not see her, however, and when the two 
 were driving rapidly away she was as vivacious 
 as ever; Helen had fought yet one more conflict, 
 and her companion was not skilled enough in the 
 study of character to perceive that it was a desper 
 ate and hysterical kind of animation. Poor Helen 
 was facing gigantic shadows just then, and life 
 wore its most fearful and menacing look to her; she 
 had plunged so far in her contest that it was now a 
 battle for life and death, and with no quarter. She 
 had made the choice of "Der Atlas, of endless joy 
 or endless sorrow, and in her struggle to keep the 
 joy she was becoming more and more frantic, more 
 and more terrified at the thought of the other 
 possibility. She knew that to fail now would mean 
 shame and misery more overwhelming than she 
 
 186 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 could bear, and so she was laughing and talking 
 with frenzied haste; and every now and then she 
 would stop and shudder, and then race wildly on, 
 
 "Like one, that on a lonesome road 
 
 Doth walk in fear and dread, 
 And having once turned round walks on, 
 
 And turns no more his head; 
 Because he knows a frightful fiend 
 
 Doth close behind him tread." 
 
 And so all through the ride, because the girl s 
 shame and fear haunted her more and more, she be 
 came more and more hysterical, and more and more 
 desperate; and Mr. Harrison thought that he had 
 never seen her so brilliant, and so daring, and so 
 inspired; nor did he have the least idea how fear 
 fully overwrought she was, until suddenly as they 
 came to a fork in the road he took a different one 
 than she expected, and she clutched him wildly by 
 the arm. "Why do you do that?" she almost 
 screamed. "Stop!" 
 
 "What?" he asked in surprise. "Take this road?" 
 
 "Yes!" exclaimed Helen. "Stop! Stop!" 
 
 "But it s only half a mile or so farther," said Mr. 
 Harrison, reining up his horses, "and I thought 
 you d like the change." 
 
 "Yes," panted Helen, with more agitation than 
 ever. "But I can t, we d have to go through Hill- 
 town!" 
 
 The wondering look of course did not leave the 
 other s face at that explanation. "You object to 
 Hill town?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, shuddering; "it is a horrible 
 place." 
 
 187 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Why, I thought it was a beautiful town," 
 laughed he. "But of course it is for you to say." 
 Then he gazed about him to find a place to turn the 
 carriage. "We ll have to go on a way," he said. 
 "The road is too narrow here. I m sorry I didn t 
 ask you, but I had no idea it made any difference." 
 
 They continued, however, for fully a mile, and the 
 road remained narrow, so that there was danger of 
 upsetting in the ditch if they tried to turn. "What 
 do you wish me to do?" Mr. Harrison asked with a 
 smile. "The more we go on the longer it will take 
 us if we are to go back, and I may miss my train; is 
 your prejudice against Hilltown so very strong, 
 Miss Davis?" 
 
 "Oh, no," Helen answered, with a ghastly smile. 
 "Pray go on; it s of no consequence." 
 
 As a matter of fact, it was of the greatest con 
 sequence; for that incident marked the turning 
 point of the battle in Helen s heart. Her power 
 seemed to go from her with every turn of the wheels 
 that brought her nearer to that dreaded place, and 
 she became more and more silent, and more con 
 scious of the fearful fact that her wretchedness 
 was mastering her again. It seemed to her terrified 
 imagination as if everything was growing dark and 
 threatening, as before the breaking of a thunder 
 storm. 
 
 "You must indeed dislike Hilltown, Miss Davis," 
 said her companion, smiling. "Why are you so 
 very silent?" 
 
 Helen made no reply; she scarcely heard him, in 
 fact, so taken up was she with what was taking 
 place in her own mind; all her thoughts then were 
 
 188 
 
KIXG MIDAS 
 
 about Arthur and what had become of him, and 
 what he was thinking about her; and chiefest of all, 
 because her cheeks and forehead had a fearfully 
 conscious feeling, what he would think, could he 
 know what she had just been doing. Thus it was 
 that as the houses of Hilltown drew near, remorse 
 and shame and terror were rising, and her frantic 
 protests against them were weakening, until sud 
 denly every emotion was lost in suspense, and the 
 shadows of the great elm-trees that arched the main 
 street of the town closed them in. Helen knew the 
 house where Arthur lodged, and knew that she 
 should pass it in another minute; she could do 
 nothing but wait and watch and tremble. 
 
 The carriage rattled on, gazed at by many curi 
 ous eyes, for everyone in Hilltown knew about the 
 young beauty and the prize she had caught; but 
 Helen saw no one, and had eyes for only one thing, 
 the little white house where Arthur lodges. The car 
 riage swept by and she saw no one, but she saw 
 that the curtain of Arthur s room was drawn, and 
 she shuddered at the thought, "Suppose he should 
 be dying! Yet it was a great load off her mind to 
 have escaped seeing him, and she was beginning to 
 breathe again and ask herself if she still might not 
 w r in the battle, when the carriage came to the end 
 of the town, and to a sight that froze her blood. 
 
 There was a tavern by the roadside, a low saloon 
 that was the curse of the place, and she saw from 
 the distance a figure come out of the door. Her 
 heart gave a fearful throb, for it was a slender 
 figure, clad in black, hatless and with disordered 
 hair and clothing. In a moment more, as Helen 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 clutched the rail beside her and stared wildly, the 
 carriage had swept on and come opposite the man; 
 and he glanced up into Helen s eyes, and she recog 
 nized the face, in spite of all its ghastly whiteness 
 and its sunken cheeks; it was Arthur! 
 
 There was just an instant s meeting of their 
 looks, and then the girl was whirled on; but that 
 one glance was enough to leave her as if paralyzed. 
 She made no sound, nor any movement, and so her 
 companion did not even know that anything had 
 happened until they had gone half a mile farther; 
 then as he chanced to glance at her he reined up 
 his horses with a cry. 
 
 "Helen!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter? 
 The girl clutched his arm so tightly that he 
 winced, powerful man that he was. "Take me home," 
 she gasped. "Oh, quick, please take me home!" 
 
 Allegro appassionato 
 
 IQO 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 "Peace! Sit you down. 
 And let me wring your heart ; for so I shall, 
 If it be made of penetrable stuff." 
 
 HELEN ran up to her room when she reached 
 home, and shut herself in, and after that she had 
 nothing to do but suffer. All of her excitement 
 was gone from her then, and with it every spark 
 of her strength; the fiends that had been pursuing 
 her rose up and seized hold of her, and lashed her 
 until she writhed and cried aloud in agony. 
 She was helpless to resist them, knowing not which 
 way to turn or what to do, completely cowed and 
 terrified. But there was no more sinking into the 
 dull despair that had mastered her before; the 
 face of Arthur, as she had seen it in that one 
 glimpse, had been burned into her memory with 
 fire, and she could not shut it from her sight; when 
 the fact that he had come from the tavern, and 
 what that must mean rose before her, it was almost 
 more than she could bear, cry out as she might that 
 she could not help it, that she never could have 
 helped it, that she had nothing to do with it. More 
 over, if there was any possibility of the girl s driv 
 ing out that specter, there was always another to 
 take its place. It was not until she was alone in 
 her room, until all her resolution was gone, and all 
 of her delusions, that she realized the actual truth 
 
 191 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 about what she had done that afternoon; it was 
 like a nightmare to her then. She seemed always 
 to feel the man s arms clasping her, and whenever 
 she thought of his kisses her forehead burned her 
 like fire, so that she flung herself down by the bed 
 side, and buried it in the pillows. 
 
 It was thus that her aunt found her when she 
 came in to call Helen to dinner; and this time the 
 latter s emotions were so real and so keen that 
 there was no prevailing over them, or persuading 
 her to anything. "I don t want to eat!" she cried 
 again and again in answer to her aunt s alarmed 
 insistence. "No, I am not coming down! I want to 
 be alone! Alone, Aunt Polly please leave me 
 alone! 
 
 "But, Helen, 1 protested Mrs. Roberts, "won t you 
 please tell me what is the matter? What in the 
 world can have happened to you?" 
 
 "I can t tell you," the girl cried hysterically. U I 
 want you to go and leave me alone!" And she shut 
 the door and locked it, and then began pacing wildly 
 up and down the room, heedless of the fact that her 
 aunt was still standing out in the hallway; the girl 
 was too deeply shaken just then to have any 
 thought about appearances. 
 
 She was thinking about Arthur again, and about 
 his fearful plight; there rushed back upon her all 
 the memories of their childhood, and of the happi 
 ness which they had known together. The thought 
 of the broken figure which she had seen by the 
 roadside became more fearful to her every moment. 
 It was not that it troubled her conscience, for 
 Helen could still argue to herself that she had done 
 
 192 
 
KTYG MIDAS 
 
 nothing to wrong her friend, that there had been 
 nothing selfish in her attitude towards him; she 
 had wished him to be happy. It seemed to her that 
 it was simply a result of the cruel perversity of 
 things that she had been trampling upon her 
 friend s happiness in order to reach her own, and 
 that all her struggling had only served to make 
 things worse. The fact that it was not her fault, 
 however, did not make the situation seem less tragic 
 and fearful to her; it had come to such a crisis now 
 that it drove her almost mad to think about it, yet 
 she was completely helpless to know what to do, 
 and as she strode up and down the room, she clasped 
 her hands to her aching head and cried aloud in 
 her perplexity. 
 
 Then too her surging thoughts hurried on to an 
 other unhappiness, to her father, and what he 
 would say when he learned the dreadful news. How 
 could she explain it to him? And how could she 
 tell him about her marriage? At the mere thought 
 of that the other horror seized upon her again, and 
 she sank down in a chair by the window and hid 
 her face in her hands. 
 
 "Oh, how can I have done it?" she gasped to her 
 self. "Oh, it was so dreadful! And what am I to do 
 now?" 
 
 That last was the chief question, the one to 
 which all others led; yet it was one to which she 
 could find no answer. She was completely con 
 fused and helpless, and she exclaimed aloud again 
 and again, "Oh, if I could only find some one to tell 
 me! I do not know how I can keep Arthur from 
 
 13 193 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 behaving in that dreadful way, and I know that I 
 cannot ever marry Mr. Harrison!" 
 
 The more she tortured herself with these prob 
 lems, the more agitated she became. She sat there 
 at the window, clutching the sill in her hands and 
 staring out, seeing nothing, and knowing only that 
 the time was flying, and that her anxiety was build 
 ing itself up and becoming an agony which she 
 could not bear. 
 
 "Oh, what am I to do?" she groaned again and 
 again; and she passed hours asking herself the 
 fearful question; the twilight had closed about her, 
 and the moon had risen behind the distant hills. 
 
 So oblivious to all things about her was she, that 
 she failed at first to notice something else, some 
 thing which would ordinarily have attracted her 
 attention at once, a sound of music which came to 
 her from somewhere near. Jt was the melody of 
 Grieg s "An den Frubling" played upon a violin, 
 and it had stolen into Helen s heart and become 
 part of her own stormy emotion before she had 
 even thought of what it was or whence it came. 
 The little piece is the very soul of the springtime 
 passion, and to the girl it was the very utterance 
 of all her yearning, lifting her heart in a great 
 throbbing prayer. When it had died away her 
 hands were clenched very tightly, and her breath 
 was coming fast. 
 
 She remained thus for a minute, forgetful of every 
 thing; then at last she found herself thinking "it 
 must be Mr. Howard," and waiting to see if he 
 would play again. But he did not do so, and Helen 
 sat in silence for a long time, her thoughts turned 
 
 194 
 
KFXG MIDAS 
 
 to him. She found herself whispering "so he is ;i 
 wonderful musician after all," and noticing that the 
 memory of his wan face frightened her no longer; 
 it seemed just then that there could be no one in the 
 world more wretched than herself. She was only 
 wishing that he would begin again, for that utter 
 ance of her grief had seemed like a victory, and now 
 in the silence she was sinking back into her de 
 spair. The more she waited, the more impatient she 
 grew, until suddenly she rose from her seat. 
 
 u He might play again if I asked him," she said to 
 herself. "He would if he knew I was unhappy; I 
 wonder where he can be?" 
 
 Helen s window was in the front of the house, 
 opening upon a broad lawn whose walks were 
 marked in the moonlight by the high shrubbery 
 that lined them. Some distance beyond, down one 
 of the paths, were two summer-houses, and it 
 seemed to her that the music had come from one 
 of them, probably the far one, for it had sounded 
 very soft. No sooner had the thought come to her 
 than she turned and went quietly to the door. She 
 ran quickly down the steps, and seeing her aunt 
 and Mr. Roberts upon the piazza, she turned and 
 passed out by one of the side doors. 
 
 Helen had yielded to a sudden impulse in doing 
 thus, drawn by her yearning for the music. When 
 she thought about it as she walked on it seemed to 
 her a foolish idea, for the man could not possibly 
 know of her trouble, and moreover was probably 
 with his friend the lieutenant. Rut she did not stop 
 even then, for her heart s hunger still drove her 
 on, and she thought, "I ll see, and perhaps he 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 will play again without my asking; I can sit in the 
 near summer-house and wait." 
 
 She went swiftly on with that purpose in mind, 
 not going upon the path, because she would have 
 been in the full moonlight, and in sight of the two 
 upon the piazza. She passed silently along by the 
 high hedge, concealed in its shadows, and her foot 
 steps deadened by the grass. She was as quiet as 
 possible, wishing to be in the summer-house with 
 out anyone s knowing it. 
 
 And she had come very close to it indeed, within 
 a few yards, when suddenly she stopped short with 
 an inward exclamation; the silence of the twilight 
 had been broken by a voice one that seemed almost 
 beside her, and that startled her with .a realization 
 of the mistake she had made. The two men were 
 themselves in the house to which she had been 
 going. 
 
 It was Mr. Howard s voice which she heard; he 
 w r as speaking very low, almost in a whisper, yet 
 Helen was near enough to hear every word that he 
 uttered. 
 
 "Most people would think it simply a happy and 
 beautiful piece of music," he said. "Most people 
 think that of the springtime; but when a man has 
 lived as I, he may find that the springtime too is 
 a great labor and a great suffering, he does not 
 forget that for the thousands of creatures that win 
 the great fight and come forth rejoicing, there are 
 thousands and tens of thousands that go down, 
 and have their mite of life crushed out, and find the 
 law very stern indeed. Even those that win do it 
 by a fearful effort, and cannot keep their beauty 
 
 196 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 long; so that the springtime passion takes on a 
 kind of desperate intensity when one thinks of it." 
 
 The voice ceased again for a moment, and Helen 
 stood gazing about her; the words were not with 
 out a dimly-felt meaning to her just then, and the 
 tone of the man s voice seemed like the music she 
 had heard him play. She would have liked to stay 
 and listen, tho she knew that she had no right to. 
 She was certain that she had not been see-n, because 
 the little house was thickly wrapped about with 
 eglantine; and she stood, uncertain as to whether 
 she ought to steal back or go out and join the two 
 men. In the meantime the voice began again: 
 
 "It gives a man a new feeling of the preciousness 
 of life to know keenly what it means to fail, to be 
 like a tiny spark, struggling to maintain itself in 
 the darkness, and finding that all it can do is not 
 sufficient, and that it is sinking back into nothing 
 ness forever. I think that is the meaning of the 
 wild and startled look that the creatures of the 
 forest wear; and it is a very tragic thing indeed to 
 realize, and makes one full of mercy. .If he knows 
 his own heart he can read the same thing in the 
 faces of men, and he no longer even laughs at their 
 pride and their greediness, but sees them quite in 
 finitely wretched and pitiable. I do not speak 
 merely of the poor and hopeless people, the hunted 
 creatures of society; for this terror is not merely 
 physical. It is the same imperative of life that 
 makes conscience, and so every man knows it who 
 has made himself a slave to his body, and sees tin 1 
 soul within him helpless and sinking; and every 
 man who has sinned and sees his evil stamped upon 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 the face of things outside him, in shapes of terror 
 that must be forever. Strange as it may seem, I 
 think the man who lives most rightly, the man of 
 genius, knows the feeling most of all, because his 
 conscience is the quickest. It is his task to live 
 from his own heart, to take the power that is within 
 him and wrestle with it, and build new universes 
 from it, to be a pioneer of the soul, so to speak, 
 and to go where no man has ever been before; and 
 yet all his victory is nothing to him, because he 
 knows so well what he might have done. Every 
 time that he shrinks, as he must shrink, from what 
 is so hard and so high in his own vision, he knows 
 that yet another glory is lost forever, and so it 
 comes that he stands very near indeed to the tears 
 of things/ " 
 
 Mr. Howard stopped again, and Helen found 
 herself leaning forward and wondering. 
 
 "I know more about those tears than most peo 
 ple," the man went on slowly, after a long pause, 
 "for I have had to build my own life in that way; I 
 know best of all the failure, for that has been my 
 lot. When you and I knew each other, I was very 
 strong in my own heart, and I could always find 
 what joy and power I needed for the living of my 
 life; but there have come to me since, in the years 
 that I have dwelt all alone with my great trial, 
 times when I think that I have stood face to face 
 with this thing that we speak of, this naked tragedy 
 and terror of existence. There have been times 
 when all the yearning and all the prayer that I had 
 c.ould not save me, when I have known that I had 
 not an ounce of resource left, and have sat and 
 
 193 
 

the iiim, in shapes of terror 
 
 that ti, I 
 
 thin i rightly, the man of 
 
 of all, his 
 
 is his task to live 
 er that is within 
 : : !>1 now mii\ 
 
 so to speak, 
 
 and 
 
 he 
 
 Every 
 i he sin hat 
 
 IOW8 
 
 so it 
 
 tie stands very c -ars 
 
 of 
 
 ^T^at md 
 
 ndering. 
 
 tiian most peo- 
 
 r a long pause, 
 
 life in that way; I 
 
 ,as been my 
 
 I was 
 
 always find 
 
 whj g of my 
 
 life; bu ears 
 
 that at trial, 
 
 tim> to face 
 
 with this tli tragedy 
 
 and terror imes 
 
 when all th< had 
 
 ex)iild not sa had 
 
 not an ouri an( l 
 
 J98 
 
V* 
 
 1L/\P 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 watched the impulse of my soul die within me, and 
 all my strength go from me, and se n myself with 
 fearful plainness as a spark of yearning, a living 
 thing in all its pitifulness and hunger, helpless and 
 walled up in darkness. To feel that is to be vn-y 
 near indeed to the losing creatures and their sor 
 row, and the memory of one such time is enough to 
 kei p a man merciful forever. For it is really the 
 deepest fact about life that a man can know; 
 how it is so hazardous and so precious, how it keeps 
 its head above the great ocean of the infinite only 
 by all the force it can exert; it happens sometimes 
 that a man does not discover that truth until it is 
 too late, and then he finds life very cruel and savage 
 indeed, I can tell you." 
 
 Mr. Howard stopped, and Helen drew a deep 
 breath; she had been trembling slightly as she stood 
 listening; then as he spoke again, her heart gave 
 a violent throb. "Some day," he said, "this girl 
 that we were talking about will have to come to 
 that part of her life s journey; it is a very sad thing 
 to know." 
 
 "She will understand her sonata better," said the 
 officer. 
 
 "No," was the reply; "I wish I could think even 
 that; I know how sorrow affects a person whose 
 heart is true, how it draws him close to the great 
 heart of life, and teaches him its sacredness, and 
 sends him forth merciful and humble. But selfish 
 misery and selfish fear are no less ugly than selfish 
 happiness; a person who suffers ignobly becomes 
 only disgusted and disagreeable, and more selfish 
 than ever. * * But let us not talk any more 
 
 199 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 about Miss Davis, for it is not a pleasant subject; 
 to a man who seeks as I do to keep his heart full of 
 worship the very air of this place is sti fling , ^witt L its 
 idleness and pride. It gives the he to all my faith 
 about life, and I have only to go back into my soli 
 tude and forget it as soon as I can. 
 "That ought not to be a difficult thing to do, 
 
 ^thTfor me" the other answered; "it haunts my 
 thoughts all the time." He paused for a while am 
 then he added, "I happened to think of something 
 I came across this morning, in a collection of 
 French verse I was reading; William, did you ever 
 read anything of Auguste Brizeux? 
 The other answered in the negative. 
 "He has some qualities that are very rare in 
 French poetry," went on Mr. Howard. "He makes 
 one think of Wordsworth. I happened to read a 
 homely little ballad of his-a story of some of that 
 tragedy of things that we spoke of; one could name 
 hundreds of such poems quite as good, I suppose 
 but this happened to be the one I came across, and 
 I could not help thinking of Miss Davis and wonder, 
 ng if she were really so cold and so hard that she 
 could have heard this story without shuddering. 
 For it really shook me very much." 
 "What is it?" the other asked. 
 "I can tell you the story in a few words said 
 Mr Howard. "To me it was one of those flashes 
 of beauty that frighten one and haunt him long 
 afterwards; and I do not quite like to think ab< 
 
 " The speaker s voice dropped, and the girl involun- 
 
 200 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 tarily crept a little nearer to hear him; there was 
 a tree in front of her, and she leaned against it, 
 breathing very hard, tho making no sound. 
 
 "The ballad is called Jacques the Mason/" said 
 Mr. Howard. "There are three little pictures in it; 
 in the first of them you see two men setting off to 
 their work together, one of them bidding his wife 
 and children good-by, and promising to return with 
 his friend for an evening s feast, because the great 
 building is to be finished. Then you see them at 
 work, swarming upon the structure and rejoicing 
 in their success; and then you hear the shouts of 
 the crowd as the scaffolding breaks, and see those 
 two men hanging over the abyss, clinging to a lit 
 tle plank. It is not strong enough to hold them 
 both, and it is cracking, and that means a fearful 
 death; they try to cling to the stones of the build 
 ing and cannot, and so there comes one of those 
 fearful moments that makes a man s heart break 
 to think of. Then in the fearful silence you beat- 
 one of the men whisper that he has three children 
 and a wife; and you see the other gaze at him an 
 instant with terror in his eyes, and then let go his 
 hold and shoot down to the street below. And 
 that is all of the story." 
 
 Mr. Howard stopped, and there followed a long 
 silence; afterwards he went on, his voice trembling: 
 "That is all," he said, "except of course that the 
 man was killed. And I can think of nothing but 
 that body hurled down through the air, and the 
 crushed figure and the writhing limbs. I fancy the 
 epic grandeur of soul of that poor ignorant laborer, 
 and the glory that must have flamed up in his heart 
 
 201 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 at that great instant; so I find it a dreadful poem, 
 and wonder if it would not frighten that careless 
 girl to read it. 1 
 
 Mr. Howard stopped again, and the officer asked 
 if the story were true. 
 
 "I do not know that/ 1 answered the other, "nor 
 do I care; it is enough to know that every day men 
 are called upon to face the shuddering reality of 
 existence in some such form as that. And the ques 
 tion which it brought to my heart is, if it came to 
 me, as terrible as that, and as sudden and implac 
 able, would I show myself the man or the dastard? 
 And that filled me with a fearful awe and humil 
 ity, and a guilty wonder whether somewhere in the 
 world there might not be a wall from which I 
 should be throwing myself, instead of nursing my 
 illness as I do, and being content to read about 
 greatness. And oh, I tell you, when I think of such 
 things as that, and see the pride and worthlessness 
 of this thing that men call high life/ it seemed to 
 me no longer heedless folly, but dastardly and fiend 
 ish crime, so that one can only bury his face in his 
 hands and sob to know of it. And William, the more 
 I realized it, the more unbearable it seemed to me 
 that this glorious girl with all her God-given 
 beauty, should be plunging herself into a stream so 
 foul. I felt as if it were cowardice of mine that I 
 did not take her by the hand and try to make her 
 see what madness she was doing." 
 
 "Why do you not?" asked the lieutenant. 
 
 "I think I should have, in my more Quixotic 
 days," replied the other, sadly; "and perhaps some 
 day I may find myself in a kind of high life where 
 
 202 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 royal sincerity is understood. But in this world 
 even an idealist has to keep a sense of humor, un 
 less he happens to be dowered with an Isaiah s 
 rage." 
 
 Mr. Howard paused for a moment arid laughed 
 slightly; then, however, he went on more earnestly: 
 "Yet, as I think of it, I know that I could frighten 
 her; I think that if I should tell her of some of the 
 days and nights that I have spent in tossing upon a 
 bed of fire, she might find the cup of her selfishness 
 a trifle less pleasant to drink. It is something that 
 I have noticed with people, that they may be coarse 
 or shallow enough to laugh at virtue and earnest 
 ness, but there are very few who do not bow their 
 heads before suffering. For that is something 
 physical; and they may harden their conscience if 
 they please, but from the possibility of bodily pain 
 they know that they can never be safe; and they 
 seem to know that a man who has walked with that 
 demon has laid his hand upon the grim reality of 
 things, before which their shams and vanities 
 shrink into nothingness. The sight of it is always 
 a kind of warning of the seriousness of life, and 
 so even when people feel no sympathy, they cannot 
 but feel fear; I saw for instance, that the first time 
 this girl saw me she turned pale, and she would 
 not come anywhere near me." 
 
 As the speaker paused again. Lieutenant May- 
 nard said, very quietly: "I should think that would 
 be a hard cross to bear, David." 
 
 "No," said Mr. Howard, with a slight smile, "I 
 had not that thought in my mind. I have seen too 
 much of the reality of life to trouble myself or the 
 
 203 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 the world with vanity of that very crude kind; I 
 can sometimes imagine myself being proud of my 
 serenity, but that is one step beyond at any rate. 
 A man who lives in his soul very seldom thinks of 
 himself in an external way; when I look in the 
 glass it is generally to think how strange it is that 
 this form of mine should be that which represents 
 me to men, and I cannot find anything they might 
 really learn about me, except the one physical fact 
 of suffering." 
 
 "They can certainly not fail to learn that," said 
 the other. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Howard sadly, "I know, if any 
 man does, what it is to earn one s life by suffering 
 and labor. That is why I have so mastering a sense 
 of life s preciousness, and why I cannot reconcile 
 myself to this dreadful fact of wealth. It is the 
 same thing, too, that makes me feel so keenly about 
 this girl and her beauty, and keeps her in my 
 thoughts. I don t think I could tell you how the 
 sight of her affected me, unless you knew how I 
 have lived all these lonely years. For I have had 
 no friends and no strength for any of the world s 
 work, and all my battle has been with my own soul, 
 to be brave and to keep my self-command through 
 all my trials; I think my illness has acted as a kind 
 of nervous stimulus upon me, as if it were only by 
 laboring to dwell upon the heights of my being 
 night and day that I could have strength to stand 
 against despair. The result is that I have lived for 
 days in a kind of frenzy of effort, with all my facul 
 ties at white heat; and it has always been the 
 artist s life, it has always been beauty that brought 
 
 204 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 me the joy that I needed, and given me the strength 
 to go on. Beauty is the sign of victory, and the 
 prize of it, in this heart s battle; the more I have 
 suffered and labored, the more keenly I have come 
 to feel that, until the commonest flower has a song 
 for me. And William, the time I saw this girl 
 she wore a rose in her hair, but she was so per 
 fect that I scarcely saw the flower; there is that 
 in a man s heart which makes it that to him the 
 fairest and most sacred of God s creatures must 
 always be the maiden. When I was young, I 
 walked about the earth half drunk with a dream of 
 love; and even now, when I am twice as old as my 
 years, and burnt out and dying, I could not but 
 start when I saw this girl. For I fancied that she 
 must carry about in that maiden s heart of hers 
 some high notion of what she meant in the world, 
 and what was due to her. When a man gazes upon 
 beauty such as hers, there is a feeling that comes 
 to him that is quite unutterable, a feeling born of 
 all the weakness and failure and sin of his lifetime. 
 For every true man s life is a failure; and this is 
 the vision that he sought with so much pain, the 
 thing that might have been, had he kept the faith 
 with his own genius. It is so that beauty is the 
 conscience of the artist; and that there must always 
 be something painful and terrible about high per 
 fection. It was that way that I felt when I saw 
 this girl s face, and I dreamt my old dream of the 
 sweetness and glory of a maiden s heart. I thought 
 of its spotlessness and of its royal scorn of base 
 ness; and I tell you, William, if I had found it thus 
 I could have been content to worship and not even 
 
 205 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ask that the girl look at ine. For a man, when he 
 has lived as I have lived, can feel towards anything 
 more perfect than himself a quite wonderful kind 
 of humility; I know that all the trouble with my 
 helpless struggling is that I must be everything to 
 myself, and cannot find anything to love, and so be 
 at peace. That was the way I felt when I saw this 
 Miss Davis, all that agitation and all that yearn 
 ing; and was it not enough to make a man mock at 
 himself, to learn the real truth? I was glad that it 
 did not happen to me when I was young and de 
 pendent upon things about me; is it not easy to 
 imagine how a young man might make such a 
 woman the dream of his life, how he might lay all 
 his prayer at her feet, and how, when he learned of 
 her fearful baseness, it might make of him a mock 
 ing libertine for the rest of his days?" 
 
 "You think it baseness?" asked Lieutenant May- 
 nard. 
 
 "I tried to persuade myself at first that it must 
 be only blindness; I wondered to myself, Can she 
 not see the difference between the life of these 
 people about her and the music and poetry her aunt 
 tells me she loves? I never waste any of my worry 
 upon the old and hardened of these vulgar and 
 worldly people; it is enough for me to know why 
 the women are dull and full of gossip, and to know 
 how much depth there is in the pride and in the 
 wisdom of the men. But it was very hard for me 
 to give up my dream of the girl s purity; I remem 
 ber I thought of Heine s Thou art as a flower/ and 
 my heart was full of prayer. I wondered if it might 
 not be possible to tell her that one cannot combine 
 
 206 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 music and a social career, and that one cannot 
 really buy happiness with sin; I thought that per 
 haps she might be grateful for the warning that in 
 cutting herself off from the great deepening ex 
 perience of woman she was consigning herself to 
 stagnation and wretchedness from which no money 
 could ever purchase her ransom; I thought that 
 possibly she did not see that this man knew nothing 
 of her preciousness and had no high thoughts about 
 her beauty. That was the way I argued with my 
 self about her innocence, and you may fancy the 
 kind of laughter that came over me at the truth. It 
 is a ghastly thing, William, the utter hardness, the 
 grim and determined worldliness, of this girl. For 
 she knew very well what she was doing, and all the 
 ignorance was on my part. She had no care about 
 anything in the world until that man came in, and 
 the short half hour that I watched them was enough 
 to tell her that her life s happiness was won. But 
 only think of her, William, with all her God-given 
 beauty, allowing herself to be kissed by him! Try 
 to fancy what new T kind of fiendishness must lie in 
 her heart! I remember that she is to marry him 
 because he pays her millions, and the word prosti 
 tution keeps haunting my memory; when I try to 
 define it, I find that the millions do not alter it in 
 the least. That is a very cruel thought, a thought 
 that drives away everything but the prayer and 
 I sit and wonder what fearful punishment the hand 
 of Fate will deal out for such a thing as that, what 
 hatefulness it will stamp upon her for a sign to 
 men. And then because the perfect face still 
 haunts my memory, I have a very Christ-like feeling 
 
 207 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 indeed, that I could truly die to save that girl 
 from such a horror." 
 
 There was another long silence, and then sud 
 denly, Mr. Howard rose from his seat. "William," 
 he said in a different voice, "it is all useless, so why 
 should we talk so? The girl has to live her own 
 life and learn these things for herself. And in the 
 meantime, perhaps I am letting myself be too much 
 moved by her beauty, for there are many people 
 in the world who are not beautiful, but who suffer 
 things they do not deserve to suffer, and who really 
 deserve our sympathy and help." 
 
 "I fancy you d not be much thanked for it in this 
 case," said the other, with a dry laugh. 
 
 Mr. Howard stood for some moments in silence, 
 and then turned away to end the conversation. "I 
 fear," he said, "that I have kept you more than I 
 have any right to. Let us go back to the house; it 
 is not very polite to our hostess to stay so long." 
 
 "It must be nearly time for my train, anyhow," 
 said the officer, and a moment later the two had 
 passed out of the summer-house and up the path, 
 Lieutenant Maynard carrying Mr. Howard s violin- 
 case in his hand. 
 
 The two did not see Helen as they passed her; 
 the reason was that Helen was stretched out upon 
 the ground by the side of the hedge. It was not 
 that she was hiding, she had no thought of that; 
 it was because she had been struck there by the 
 scathing words that she had heard. Some of them 
 were so bitter that they could only have filled her 
 with rage had she not known that they were true, 
 and had she not been awed by what she had learned 
 
 208 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of this man s heart. She could feel only terror and 
 fiery shame, and the cruel words had beaten her 
 down, first upon her knees, and then upon her face, 
 and they lashed her like whips of flame and tore 
 into her flesh and made her writhe She dared not 
 cry out, or even sob; she could only dig into the 
 ground with her quivering fingers, and lie there, 
 shuddering in a fearful way. Long after the two 
 men were gone her cruel punishment still con 
 tinued, for she still seemed to hear his words, 
 seared into her memory with fire as they had been. 
 What Mr. Howard had said had come like a flash 
 of lightning in the darkness to show her actions 
 as they really were; the last fearful sentences which 
 she had heard had set all her being aflame, and the 
 thought of Mr. Harrison s embraces filled her now 
 with a perfect spasm of shame and loathing. 
 
 "I sold myself to him for money!" she panted. 
 "Oh, God, for money!" 
 
 But then suddenly she raised herself up and 
 stared about her. crying out, half-hysterically, "No, 
 no, it is not true! .It is not true! I could never have 
 done it I should have gone mad!" And a moment 
 later Helen had staggered to her feet. "I must tell 
 him," she gasped. "He must not think so of me!" 
 
 Mr. Howard had come to her as a vision from a 
 higher world, making all that she had known and 
 admired seem hideous and base; and her one 
 thought just then was of him. "He will still scorn 
 me," she thought, "but I must tell him I really did 
 suffer." And heedless of the fact that her hair was 
 loose about her shoulders and her dress wet with 
 the dew of the grass, the girl ran swiftly up the 
 14 209 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 lawn towards the house, whispering again and 
 again, "I must tell him!" 
 
 It was only a minute more before she was near 
 the piazza, and could see the people upon it as they 
 stood in the lighted doorway. Mr. Howard was one 
 of them, and Helen would have rushed blindly up 
 to speak to him, had it not been that another 
 thought came to her to stop her. 
 
 "Suppose he should know of Arthur!" she mut 
 tered, clenching her hands until the nails cut her 
 flesh. "Oh, what would he think then? And what 
 could I tell him?" And she shrank back into the 
 darkness, like a black and guilty thing. She crept 
 around the side of the house and entered by another 
 door, stealing into one of the darkened parlors, 
 where she flung herself down upon a sofa and lay 
 trembling before that new terror. When a few 
 minutes had passed and she heard a carriage out 
 side, she sprang up wildly, with the thought that he 
 might be going. She had run half way to the door 
 before she recollected that the carriage must be 
 for the lieutenant, and then she stopped and stood 
 still in the darkness, twisting her hands together 
 nervously and asking herself what she could do. 
 
 It occurred to her that she could look down the 
 piazza from the window of the room, and so she 
 went swiftly to it. The officer was just descending 
 to the carriage, Mr. Roberts with him, and her aunt 
 and Mr. Howard standing at the top of the steps, 
 the latter s figure clearly outlined in the moonlight. 
 Helen s heart was so full of despair and yearning 
 just then that she could have rushed out and flung 
 herself at his feet, had he been alone; but she felt 
 
 210 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 a new kind of shrinking from her aunt. She stood 
 hesitating, therefore, muttering to herself, "I must 
 let him know about it somehow, and he will tell me 
 what to do. Oh, I WMX// And I must tell him now, 
 before it is too late!" 
 
 She stood by the window, panting arid almost 
 choking with her emotion, kneading her hands one 
 upon the other in frenzied agitation ; and then she 
 heard Mr. Howard say to her aunt, I shall have to 
 ask you to excuse me now, for I must not forget 
 that I am an invalid. 1 And Helen clutched her 
 burning temples, seeing him turn to enter the 
 house, and seeing that her chance was going. She 
 glanced around her, almost desperate, and then sud 
 denly her heart gave a great leap, for just beside 
 her was something that had brought one resource 
 to her mind. She had seen the piano in the dim 
 light, and had thought suddenly of the song that 
 Mr. Howard had mentioned. 
 
 "He will remember! she thought swiftly, as she 
 ran to the instrument and sat down before it. With 
 a strength born of her desperation she mastered 
 the quivering of her hands, and catching her breath, 
 began in a weak and trembling voice the melody of 
 Rubenstein: 
 
 "Thou art as a flower. 
 
 So pure and fair thou art; 
 I gaze on thee, and sorrow 
 Doth steal into my heart. 
 
 "I would lay my hands upon thee, 
 
 Upon thy snowy brow, 
 And pray that God might keep thee 
 So pure and fair as now." 
 
 Helen did not know how she was singing, she 
 thought only of telling her yearning and her pain; 
 
 211 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 she was so choked with emotion that she could 
 scarcely utter a sound at all, and the song must 
 have startled those who heard it. It was laden 
 with all the tears that had been gathering in 
 Helen s heart for days. 
 
 She did not finish the song; she was thinking, 
 "Will he understand? 1 She stopped suddenly as 
 she saw a shadow upon the porch outside, telling 
 her that Mr Howard had come nearer. There was 
 a minute or so of breathless suspense and then, as 
 the shadow began to draw slowly backwards, Helen 
 clenched her hands convulsively, whispering to her 
 self, "He will think it was only an accident! Oh, 
 what can I do?" 
 
 There are some people all of whose emotions take 
 the form of music ; there came into Helen s mind at 
 that instant a melody that was the very soul of 
 her agitation and her longing MacDowelFs "To a 
 Water Lily;" the girl thought of what Mr. Howard 
 had said about the feeling that comes to suffering 
 mortals at the sight of something perfect and 
 serene, and she began playing the little piece, very 
 softly, and with trembling hands. 
 
 It is quite wonderful music; to Helen with her 
 heart full of grief and despair, the chords that 
 floated so cold and white and high were almost too 
 much to be borne. She played desperately on, how 
 ever, because she saw that Mr. Howard had stopped 
 again, and she did not believe that he could fail to 
 understand that music. 
 
 So she continued until she came to the pleading 
 song of the swan. The music is written to a poem 
 of GeibeFs which tells of the snow-white lily, and 
 
 212 
 
In dreamy, swaving thvthnt. 
 
 Pcd. Fed. Ped. r * Ped. r* * 
 
 The accompaniment very softly. 
 
 * :g. ~^~ ^.-^^=-^ 
 
 - - -zy ft^- c- - t-t - -* r-; 
 
 f~ l~ !~ i 
 
 
 -&~ 
 t: 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of the bird which wonders at its beauty; after 
 wards, because there is nothing in all nature more 
 cold and unapproachable than a water-lily, and 
 because one might sing to it all day and never 
 fancy that it heard him, the first melody rises 
 again, as keen and as high as ever, and one knows 
 that his yearning is in vain, and that there is noth 
 ing for him but his old despair. When Helen came 
 to that she could go no farther, for her wretched 
 ness had been heaping itself up, and her heart was 
 bursting Her fingers gave way as she struck the 
 keys, and she sank down and hid her face in her 
 arms, and broke into wild and passionate sobbing. 
 She was almost choking with her pent-up emotions, 
 so shaken that she was no longer conscious of 
 what went on about her. She did not hear Mr. 
 Howard s voice, as he entered, and she did not even 
 hear the frightened exclamations of her aunt, until 
 the latter had flung her arms about her Then she 
 sprang up and tore herself loose by main force, rush 
 ing upstairs and locking herself in her own room, 
 where she flung herself down upon the bed and wept 
 until she could weep no more, in the meantime not 
 even hearing her aunt s voice from the. hallway, and 
 altogether unconscious of the flight of time. 
 
 When she sat up and brushed away her tangled 
 hair and gazed about her, everything in the house 
 was silent. She herself was exhausted, but she 
 rose, and after pacing up and down the room a 
 IV w minutes, seated herself at the writing desk, and 
 in spite of her trembling fingers, wrote a short note 
 to Mr. Gerald Harrison; then with a deep breath 
 
 213 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of relief, she rose, and going to the window knelt 
 down in front of it and gazed out. 
 
 The moon was high in the sky by that time, and 
 the landscape about her was flooded with its light. 
 Everything was so calm and still that the girl held 
 her breath as she watched it; but suddenly she 
 gave a start, for she heard the sound of a violin 
 again, so very faint that she at first thought she 
 was deluding herself. As she listened, however, 
 she heard it more plainly, and then she realized in 
 a flash that Mr. Howard must have heard her long- 
 continued sobbing, and that he was playing some 
 thing for her. It was Schumann s "Traumerei;" and 
 as the girl knelt there her soul was borne away upon 
 the wings of that heavenly melody, and there welled 
 up in her heart a new and very different emotion 
 from any that she had ever known before; it was 
 born, half of the music, and half of the calm and 
 the stillness of the night, that wonderful peace 
 which may come to mortals either in victory or de 
 feat, when they give up their weakness and their 
 fear, and become aware of the Infinite Presence. 
 When the melody had died away, and Helen rose, 
 there was a new light in her eyes, and a new beauty 
 upon her countenance, and she knew that her soul 
 was right at last. 
 
 214 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 "Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, 
 Our fatal shadows that walk by us still." 
 
 NATURALLY there was considerable agitation in 
 the Roberts family on account of Helen s strange 
 behavior; early the next morning Mrs. Roberts was 
 at her niece s door, trying to gain admittance. This 
 time she did not have to knock but once, and when 
 she entered she was surprised to see that Helen 
 was already up and dressing. She had been expect 
 ing to find the girl more prostrated than ever, and 
 so the discovery was a great relief to her; she stood 
 gazing at her anxiously. 
 
 "Helen, dear," she said, "I scarcely know how to 
 begin to talk to you about your extraordinary " 
 
 4k l wish," interrupted Helen, "that you would not 
 begin to talk to me about it at all." 
 
 "But you must explain to me what in the world is 
 the matter," protested the other. 
 
 "I cannot possibly explain to you," was the 
 abrupt reply. Helen s voice was firm, and there 
 was a determined look upon her face, a look which 
 quite took her aunt by surprise. 
 
 "But, my dear girl!" she began once more. 
 
 "Aunt Polly!" said the other, interrupting her 
 again, "I wish instead of talking about it you would 
 listen to what I have to say for a few moments. 
 
 215 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 For I have made up my mind just what I am going 
 to do, and I am going to take the reins in my own 
 hands and not do any arguing or explaining to any 
 one. And there is no use of asking me a word 
 about what has happened, for I could not hope to 
 make you understand me, and I do not mean to 
 try." 
 
 As Helen uttered those words she fixed her eyes 
 upon her aunt with an unflinching gaze, with the 
 result that Mrs. Roberts was quite too much taken 
 aback to find a word to say. 
 
 Without waiting for anything more Helen turned 
 to the table. "Here is a letter," she said, "which 
 I have written to Mr. Harrison; you know his ad 
 dress in New York, I suppose?" 
 
 "His address?" stammered the other; "why, 
 yes, of course. But what in the world 
 
 "I wish this letter delivered to him at once, Aunt 
 Polly," Helen continued. "It is of the utmost im 
 portance, and I want you to do me the favor to send 
 someone into the city with it by the next train." 
 
 u But, Helen, dear 
 
 "Now please do not ask me anything about it," 
 went on the girl, impatiently. "I have told you that 
 you must let me manage this affair myself. If you 
 will not send it I shall simply have to get someone 
 to take it. He must have it, and have it at once." 
 
 "Will it not do to mail it, Helen?" 
 
 "No, because I wish him to get it this morning." 
 And Helen put the letter into her aunt s hands, 
 while the latter gazed helplessly, first at it, and 
 then at the girl. There is an essay of Bacon s in 
 which is set forth the truth that you can bewilder 
 
 216 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 and master anyone if you are only sufficiently bold 
 and rapid; Mrs. Roberts was so used to managing 
 everything and being looked up to by everyone that 
 Helen s present mood left her quite dazed. 
 
 Nor did the girl give her any time to recover her 
 presence of mind. "There is only one thing more," 
 she said, "I want you to have breakfast as soon as 
 you can, and then to let me have a carriage at 
 once." 
 
 "A carriage?" echoed the other. 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Polly, I wish to drive over to Hill- 
 town immediately." 
 
 "To Hilltown!" gasped Aunt Polly with yet 
 greater consternation, and showing signs of resist 
 ance at last; "pray what 
 
 But Helen only came again to the attack, with 
 yet more audacity and confidence. "Yes/ she said, 
 "to Hilltown; I mean to go to see Arthur." 
 
 For answer to that last statement, poor Mrs, 
 Roberts had simply no words whatever; she could 
 only gaze, and in the meantime, Helen was going 
 calmly on with her dressing, as if the matter were 
 settled. 
 
 "Will Mr. Howard be down to breakfast?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "As he is going away to-day, I presume he will 
 be down," was the reply, after which Helen quickly 
 completed her toilet, her aunt standing by and 
 watching her in the meantime. 
 
 "Helen, dear," she asked at last, after having re 
 covered her faculties a trifle, "do you really mean 
 that you will not explain to me a thing of what has 
 happened, or of what yon are doing?" 
 
 217 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "There is so much, Aunt Polly, that I cannot 
 possibly explain it now; I have too much else to 
 think of. You must simply let me go my way, and 
 I will tell you afterwards." 
 
 "But, Helen, is that the right way to treat me? 
 Is it nothing to you, all the interest that I have 
 taken in this and all that I have done for you, that 
 you should think so little of my advice?" 
 
 "I do not need any advice now," was the answer. 
 "Aunt Polly, I see exactly what I should do, and I 
 do not mean to stop a minute for anything else until 
 I have done it. If it seems unkind, I am very sorry, 
 but in the meantime it must be done." 
 
 And while she was saying the words, Helen was 
 putting on her hat; then taking up her parasol and 
 gloves she turned towards her aunt. "I am ready 
 now," she said, "and please let me have breakfast 
 just as soon as you can." 
 
 The girl was so much preoccupied with her own 
 thoughts and purposes that she scarcely even heard 
 what her aunt said; she went down into the garden 
 where she could be alone, and paced up and down 
 impatiently until she heard the bell. Then she 
 went up into the dining room, where she found her 
 aunt and uncle in conversation with Mr. Howard. 
 
 Helen had long been preparing herself to meet 
 him, but she could not keep her cheeks from flush 
 ing or keep from lowering her eyes; she bit her lips 
 together, however, and forced herself to look at 
 him, saying very resolutely, "Mr. Howard, I have 
 to drive over to Hilltown after breakfast, and I 
 wish very much to talk to you about something; 
 would you like to drive with me?" 
 
 218 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Very much indeed," said he, quietly, after which 
 Helen said not a word moro. She saw that her aunt 
 and uncle were gazing at her and at each other in 
 silent wonder, but she paid no attention to it. 
 After eating a few hurried mouthfuls she excused 
 herself, and rose and went outside, where she saw 
 the driving-cart which had been bought for her use, 
 waiting for her. It was not much longer before 
 Mr. Howard was ready, for he saw her agitation. 
 
 "It is rather a strange hour to start upon a drive," 
 she said to him, "but I have real cause for hurry 
 ing; I will explain about it." And then she stopped, 
 as her aunt came out to join them. 
 
 It was only a moment more before Mr. Howard 
 had excused himself, and the two were in the 
 wagon, Helen taking the reins. She waved a fare 
 well to her aunt and then started the horse, and 
 they were whirled swiftly away down the road. 
 
 All the morning Helen s mind had been filled with 
 things that she wished to say to Mr. Howard. But 
 now all her resolution seemed to have left her, and 
 she was trembling very much, and staring straight 
 ahead, busying herself with guiding the horse. 
 When they were out upon the main road where 
 they might go as fast as they pleased without that 
 necessity, she swallowed the lump in her throat and 
 made one or two nervous attempts to speak. 
 
 Mr. Howard in the meantime had been gazing in 
 front of him thoughtfully. "Miss Davis," he said 
 suddenly, turning his eyes upon her, "may I ask 
 you a question?" 
 
 "Yes/ said Helen faintly. 
 
 "You heard all that I said about you last night?" 
 
 319 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 And Helen turned very red and looked away. 
 "Yes, I heard it all," she said; and then there was 
 a long silence. 
 
 It was broken by the man, who began in a low 
 voice: "I scarcely know how, Miss Davis, I can 
 apologize to you " 
 
 And then he stopped short, for the girl had 
 turned her glance upon him, wonderingly. "Apol 
 ogize?" she said; she had never once thought of that 
 view of it, and the word took her by surprise, 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Howard; "I said so many hard 
 and cruel things that I cannot bear to think of 
 them." 
 
 Helen still kept her eyes fixed upon him, as she 
 said, "Did you say anything that was not true, Mr. 
 Howard?" 
 
 The man hesitated a moment, and then he an 
 swered : "I said many things that I had no right to 
 say to you." 
 
 "That is not it," said Helen simply. "Did you 
 say anything that was not true?" 
 
 Again Mr. Howard paused "I am quite sure 
 that I did," he said at last. "Most of what I said 
 I feel to have been untrue since I have seen how it 
 affected you." 
 
 "Because it made me so ashamed?" said Helen. 
 And then some of the thoughts that possessed her 
 forced their way out, and she hurried on impetu 
 ously: "That was the first thing I wanted to tell 
 you. It is really true that you were wrong, for I 
 am not hard-hearted at all. It was something that 
 my that people were making me do, and all the 
 time I was wretched. It was dreadful, I know, 
 
 220 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 but I was tempted, because I do love beautiful 
 things. And it was all so sudden, and I could not 
 realize it, and I had nobody to advise me, for none 
 of the people I meet would think it was wrong. 
 You must talk to me and help me, because I ve got 
 to be very strong; my aunt will be angry, and when 
 I get back perhaps Mr. Harrison will be there, and 
 I shall have to tell him." 
 
 Then the girl stopped, out of breath and trem 
 bling with excitement; Mr. Howard turned ab 
 ruptly and fixed his dark eyes upon her. 
 
 "Tell him," he said. "Tell him what?" 
 
 That I shall not marry him, of course," an 
 swered Helen; the other gave a start, but she was 
 so eager that she did not even notice it. "I could 
 not lose a minute," she said. "For it was so very 
 dreadful, you know." 
 
 "And you really mean not to marry him?" asked 
 the other. 
 
 "Mean it!" echoed the girl, opening her eyes very 
 wide. "Why, how in the world could you sup 
 pose " And then she stopped short, and laughed 
 nervously. "Of course," she said, "I forgot; you 
 might suppose anything. But, oh, if I could tell 
 you how I have suffered, Mr. Howard, you would 
 understand that I could never have such a thought 
 again in the world. Please do understand me, for 
 if I had really been so base I should not come to 
 you as .1 do after what I heard. I cannot tell you 
 how dreadfully I suffered while I was listening, but 
 after I had cried so much about it, I felt better, 
 and it seemed to me that it was the best thing that 
 could have happened to me, just to see my actions 
 
 221 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 as they seemed to someone else, to someone who 
 was good. I saw all at once the truth of what I 
 was doing, and it was agony to me to know that 
 you thought so of me. That was why I could not 
 rest last night until I had told you that I was 
 really unhappy; for it was something that I was 
 unhappy, wasn t it, Mr. Howard?" 
 
 "Yes," said the other, "it was very much in 
 deed." 
 
 "And oh, I want you to know the truth," Helen 
 went on swiftly. "Perhaps it is just egotism on my 
 part, and I have really no right to tell you all about 
 myself in this way; and perhaps you will scorn me 
 when you come to know the whole truth. But I 
 cannot help telling you about it, so that you may 
 advise me what to do; I was all helpless and lost, 
 and what you said came last night like a wonderful 
 light. And I don t care what you think about me 
 if you will only tell me the real truth, in just the 
 same way that you did; for I realized afterwards 
 that it was that which had helped me so. It was 
 the first time in my life that it had ever happened 
 to me; when you meet people in the world, they 
 only say things that they know will please you, and 
 that does you no good. I never realized before 
 how a person might go through the world and really 
 never meet with another heart in all his life; and 
 that one can be fearfully lonely, even in a parlor 
 full of people. Did you ever think of that, Mr. 
 Howard?" 
 
 Mr. Howard had fixed his keen eyes upon the girl 
 as she went breathlessly on; she was very pale, and 
 the sorrow through which she had passed had left 
 
 222 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 quite a new beauty upon her face. "Yes," he said, 
 "I have thought of that." 
 
 "It is foolish for ine to ask you," Helen continued, 
 "but I have just discovered it for myself, and it 
 seems very wrong. I wanted to ask you if you 
 would not always speak the truth to me, just as you 
 did last night; if I could not bear it, it would be 
 because I was still wrong. I got very much ex 
 cited as I thought of that, because I recollected 
 what you said about wishing to help me if I would 
 only appreciate it. I wanted to tell you that I 
 would, or try to. I think you were wrong in not 
 telling me before, because these people who live so 
 very selfishly must do it just because they never 
 realize it. I really want you to advise me, and tell 
 me how I can set my life right; I cannot help feel 
 ing that I might some day become the kind of 
 woman that I ought to be, to deserve the beauty 
 that God has given me. And when I told you that 
 I needed strength, I meant really for that, and not 
 because I feared I might go on in my great wrong; 
 for it really makes me suffer dreadfully, even to 
 think of that that marriage." 
 
 Helen stopped, and there was a minute of silence. 
 She glanced once nervously at the man, whose eyes 
 were still fixed upon her countenance; and then she 
 went on, staring straight ahead of her, her lips 
 trembling. 
 
 "Mr. Howard," she said, "you cannot imagine how 
 hard it is for me, after I have suffered so to know 
 what you think of me, to have to tell you more 
 things yet. But, oh, I have done them, and I can 
 not ever be set right until I have told you; you 
 
 223 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 will think I have been so cold and wicked, that you 
 will soon scorn me altogether." 
 
 "I do not think that is possible," said her com 
 panion, gently, as he saw the girl choking back a 
 sob. 
 
 "Well, listen then," Helen began; but then she 
 stopped again. "Do you wish me to tell you?" she 
 asked. "Do you care anything about it at all, or 
 does it seem " 
 
 "I care very much about it, indeed/ the other 
 answered. 
 
 "However dreadful it may seem," said Helen. 
 "Oh, please know that while I have been doing it, 
 it has made me utterly wretched, and that I am so 
 frightened now that I can scarcely talk to you; 
 and that if there is anything that I can do oh, 
 absolutely anything I will do it!" Then the girl 
 bit her lips together and went on with desperate 
 haste, "It s what you said about what would hap 
 pen if there were someone else to love me, and to 
 see how very bad I was!" 
 
 "There is some such person?" asked the man, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "Yes," said she. "It is someone I have known 
 as long as I can remember. And he loves me very 
 much indeed, I think; and while I was letting my 
 self be tempted in this way he was very sick, and 
 because I knew I was so bad I did not dare go near 
 him; and yesterday when he heard I was going to 
 marry this man, it almost killed him, and I do not 
 know what to fear now." 
 
 Then, punishing herself very bravely and swallow 
 ing all her bitter shame, Helen went on to tell Mr. 
 
 224 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Howard of Arthur, and of her friendship with him, 
 and of how long he had waited for her; she narrated 
 in a few words how he had left her, and then how 
 she had seen him upon the road. Afterwards she 
 stopped and sat very still, trembling, and with her 
 eyes lowered, quite forgetting that she was driving. 
 
 "Miss Davis," said the other, gently, seeing how 
 she was suffering, u if you wish my advice about 
 this, I should not worry myself too much; it is 
 better, .1 find in my own soul s life, to save most 
 of the time that one spends upon remorse, and de 
 vote it to action." 
 
 "To action?" asked Helen. 
 
 "Yes," said the other. "You have been very 
 thoughtless, but you may hope that nothing irrev 
 ocable has happened; and when you have seen 
 your friend and told him the truth just as 
 you have told it to me, I fancy it will bring him 
 joy enough to compensate him for what he has 
 suffered." 
 
 "That was what I meant to do," the girl went 
 on. "But I have been terrified by all sorts of 
 fancies, and when I remember how much pain I 
 caused him, I scarcely dare think of speaking to 
 him. When I saw him by the roadside, Mr. How 
 ard, he seemed to me to look exactly like you, there 
 was such dreadful suffering written in his face." 
 
 "A man who lives as you have told me your 
 friend has lived," said the other, "has usually a 
 very great power of suffering; such a man builds 
 for himself an ideal which gives him all his joy 
 and his power, and makes his life a very glorious 
 thing; but when anything happens to destroy his 
 
 IS 225 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 vision or to keep him from seeking it, he suffers 
 with the same intensity that he rejoiced before. 
 The great hunger that was once the source of his 
 power only tears him to pieces then, as steam 
 wrecks a broken engine." 
 
 "It s very dreadful," Helen said, "how thought 
 less I was all along. I only knew that he loved me 
 very much, and that it was a vexation to me." 
 
 Mr. Howard glanced at her. "You do not love 
 him?" he asked. 
 
 "No," said Helen, quickly. "If I had loved him, 
 I could never have had a thought of all these other 
 things. But I had no wish to love anybody; it was 
 more of my selfishness." 
 
 "Perhaps not," the other replied gently. "Some 
 day you may come to love him, Miss Davis." 
 
 "I do not know," Helen said. "Arthur was very 
 impatient." 
 
 "When a man is swift and eager in all his life," 
 said Mr. Howard, smiling, "he cannot well be other 
 wise in his love. Such devotion ought to be very 
 precious to a woman, for such hearts are not easy 
 to find in the world." 
 
 Helen had turned and was gazing anxiously at 
 Mr. Howard as he spoke to her thus. "You really 
 think," she said, "that I should learn to appre 
 ciate Arthur s love?" 
 
 "I cannot know much about him from the little 
 you have told me," was the other s answer. "But 
 it seems to me that it is there you might find the 
 best chance to become the unselfish woman that 
 you wish to be." 
 
 "It is very strange," the girl responded, wonder- 
 
 226 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ingly, "how differently you think about it. I should 
 have supposed I was acting very unwisely indeed 
 if I loved Arthur; everyone would have told me of 
 his poverty and obscurity, and of how I must give 
 up my social career." 
 
 "I think differently, perhaps," Mr. Howard said, 
 "because I have lived so much alone. I have come 
 to know that happiness is a thing of one s own 
 heart, and not of externals; the questions I should 
 ask about a marriage would not be of wealth and 
 position. If you really wish to seek the precious 
 things of the soul, I should think you would be 
 very glad to prove it by some sacrifice; and I know 
 that two hearts are brought closer, and all the 
 memories of life made dearer, by some such trial 
 in the early days. People sneer at love in a cottage, 
 but I am sure that love that could wish to live any 
 where else is not love. And as to the social career, 
 a person who has once come to know the life of the 
 heart soon ceases to care for any kind of life that 
 is heartless; a social career is certainly that, and 
 in comparison very vulgar indeed." 
 
 Helen looked a little puzzled, and repeated the 
 word "vulgar" inquiringly. Mr Howard smiled. 
 
 "That is the word I always use when I am talk 
 ing about high life," he said, laughing. "You may 
 hurl the words selfish and worldly at it all you 
 please, and never reach a vital spot; but the word 
 vulgar- goes straight to the heart." 
 
 "You must explain to me why it is that," said 
 Helen, with so much seriousness that the other 
 could not help smiling again. 
 
 "Perhaps I cannot make anyone else see the thing 
 227 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ag I do," was his reply. "And yet it seems rery 
 staple When a man lives a while in h.s own soul, 
 n becomes aware of the existence of a certain 
 
 Mr. 
 
 thev may have ease and luxury. That 
 
 girl sat very still after that, trembling a lit- 
 
 228 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 tie in her heart; finally she asked, her voice shaking 
 slightly, "Mr. Howard, what can one do about such 
 things?" 
 
 "Very little," was the reply, "for they must 
 always be; but at least one can keep his own life 
 earnest and true. A woman who felt such things 
 very keenly might be an inspiration to a man who 
 was called upon to battle with selfishness and evil." 
 
 "You are thinking of Arthur once more?" asked 
 the girl. 
 
 "Yes," answered the other, with a slight smile. 
 "It would be a happy memory for me, to know that 
 I have been able to give you such an ideal. Some of 
 these days, you see, I am hoping that we shall 
 again have a poet with a conviction and a voice, so 
 that men may know that sympathy and love are 
 things as real as money. I am quite sure there 
 never was a nation so ridiculously sodden as our 
 own just at present; all of our maxims and ways 
 of life are as if we were the queer little Niebelung 
 rreatures that dig for treasure in the bowels of the 
 earth, and see no farther than the ends of their 
 shovels; we live in the City of God, and spend all 
 our time scraping the gold of the pavements. Your 
 uncle told me this morning that he did not see why 
 a boy should go to college when he can get a higher 
 salary if he spends the four years in business. I 
 find that there is nothing to do but to run away 
 and live alone, if one wants really to believe that 
 man is a spiritual nature, with an infinite possibility 
 of wonder and love; and that the one business of his 
 life is to develop that nature by contact with things 
 about him; and that every act of narrow selfishness 
 
 229 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 he commits is a veil which he ties about his own 
 eyes, and that when he has tied enough of them, 
 not all the pearl and gold of the gorgeous East can 
 make him less a pitiable wretch." 
 
 Mr. Howard stopped again, and smiled slightly; 
 Helen sat gazing thoughtfully ahead, thinking about 
 his way of looking at life, and how very strange her 
 own actions seemed in the light of it. Suddenly, how 
 ever, because throughout all the conversation there 
 had been another thought in her consciousness, she 
 glanced ahead and urged the horse even faster. 
 She saw far in the distance the houses of the place 
 to which she was bound, and she said nothing more, 
 her companion also becoming silent as he perceived 
 her agitation. 
 
 Helen had been constantly growing more anxious, 
 so that now the carriage could not travel fast 
 enough? it seemed to her that everything depended 
 upon what she might find at Hill town. It was only 
 the thought of Arthur that kept her from feeling 
 completely free from her wretchedness; she felt 
 that she might remedy all the wrong that she had 
 done, and win once more the prize of a good con 
 science, provided only that nothing irretrievable 
 had happened to him. Now as she came nearer she 
 found herself imagining more and more what might 
 have, happened, and becoming more and more im 
 patient. There was a balance dangling before her 
 eyes, with utter happiness on one side and utter 
 misery on the other; the issue depended upon what 
 she discovered at Hilltown. 
 
 The two sat in silence, both thinking of the same 
 thing, as they whirled past the place where Helen 
 
 230 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 had seen Arthur before. The girl trembled as she 
 glanced at it, for all of the previous day s suffering 
 rose before her again, and made her fears still 
 more real and importunate. She forced herself to 
 look, however, half thinking that she might see 
 Arthur again; but that did not happen, and in a 
 minute or two more the carriage had come to the 
 house where he lived. She gave the reins to Mr. 
 Howard, and sprang quickly out; she rang the bell, 
 and then stood for a minute, twitching her fingers, 
 and waiting. 
 
 The woman who kept the house, and whom Helen 
 knew personally, opened the door; the visitor 
 stepped in and gasped out breathlessly, "Where is 
 Arthur?" Her hands shook visibly as she waited 
 for the reply. 
 
 "He is not in, Miss Davis," the woman answered. 
 
 "Where is he?" Helen cried. 
 
 "I do not know," was the response. "He has 
 gone." 
 
 "Gone!" And the girl started back, catching at 
 her heart. "Gone where?" 
 
 "I do not know, Miss Davis." 
 
 "But what " began the other. 
 
 "This will tell you all I know," said the woman, 
 as she fumbled in her apron, and put a scrap of 
 crumpled paper into Helen s trembling hands. 
 
 The girl seized it and glanced at it; then she stag 
 gered back against the wall, ghastly pale and al 
 most sinking. The note, in Arthur s hand, but so 
 unsteady as to be almost illegible, ran thus: "You 
 will find in this my board for the past week; I am 
 
 231 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 compelled to leave Hilltown, and .1 shall not evr 
 return." 
 
 And that was all. Helen stared at it and stared 
 again, and then let it fall and gazed about her, 
 echoing, in a hollow voice, "And I shall not ever 
 return!" 
 
 "That is all I can tell you about it," went on the 
 woman. "I have not seen him since Elizabeth was 
 here yesterday morning; he came back late last 
 night and packed his bag and went away." 
 
 Helen sank down upon a chair and buried her 
 face in her hands, quite overwhelmed by the sud 
 denness of that discovery. She remained thus for 
 a long time, without either sound or motion, and 
 the woman stood watching her, knowing full well 
 what was the matter. When Helen looked up again 
 there was agony written upon her countenance. 
 "Oh, are you sure you have no idea where I can find 
 him?" she moaned. 
 
 "No, Miss Davis," said the woman. "I was as 
 tounded when I got this note." 
 
 "But someone must know, oh, surely they must! 
 Someone must have seen him, or he must have told 
 someone!" 
 
 "I think it likely that he took care not to," was 
 the reply. 
 
 The thought was a death-knell to Helen s last 
 hope, and she sank down, quite overcome; she knew 
 that Arthur could have had but one motive in act 
 ing as he had, that he meant to cut himself off 
 entirely from all his old life and surroundings. He 
 had no friends in Hilltown, and having lived all 
 alone, it would be possible for him to do it. Helen 
 
 232 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 remembered Mr. Howard s saying of the night be 
 fore, how the sight of her baseness might wreck 
 a man s life forever, and the more she thought of 
 that, the more it made her tremble. It seemed 
 almost more than she could bear to see this fearful 
 consequence of her sin, and to know that it had 
 become a fact of the outer world, and gone beyond 
 her power. It seemed quite too cruel that she 
 should have such a thing on her conscience, and 
 have it there forever; most maddening of all was 
 the thought that it had depended upon a few hours 
 of time. 
 
 "Oh, how can I have waited!" she moaned. "I 
 should have come last night, I should have stopped 
 the carriage when I saw him! Oh, it is not 
 possible!" 
 
 Perhaps there are no more tragic words in human 
 speech than "Too late." Helen felt just then as if 
 the right even to repentance were taken from her 
 life. It was her first introduction to that fearful 
 thing of which Mr. Howard had told her upon their 
 first meeting; in the deep loneliness of her own 
 heart Helen was face to face just then with Fate. 
 She shrank back in terror, and she struggled fran 
 tically, but she felt its grip of steel about her 
 wrist; and while she sat there with her face hid 
 den, she was learning to gaze into its eyes, and 
 front their fiery terror. When she looked up again 
 her face was very white and pitiful to see, and she 
 rose from her chair and went toward the door so un 
 steadily that the woman put her arm about her. 
 
 "You will tell me," she gasped faintly "you will 
 tell me if you hear anything?" 
 
 233 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Yes," said the other gently, "I will." 
 So Helen crept into the carriage again, looking 
 so full of wretchedness that her companion knew 
 that the worst must have happened, and took the 
 reins and silently drove towards home, while the 
 girl sat perfectly still. They were fully half way 
 home before she could find a word in which to tell 
 him of her misery. "I shall never be happy in my 
 life again!" she whispered. "Oh, Mr. Howard, 
 never in my life!" 
 
 When the man gazed at her, he was frightened 
 to see how grief and fear had taken possession of 
 her face; and yet there was no word that he could 
 say to soothe her, and no hope that he could give 
 her. When the drive was ended, she stole silently 
 up to her room, to be alone with her misery once 
 more. 
 
 234 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "Thou majestic in thy sadness." 
 
 IJPON the present occasion there was no violent 
 demonstration of emotion to alarm the Roberts 
 household, for Helen s grief was not of the kind 
 to vent itself in a passionate outburst and pass 
 away. To be sure, she wept a little, but the 
 thoughts which haunted her were not of a kind to 
 be forgotten, and afterwards she was as wretched 
 as ever. What she had done seemed to her so 
 dreadful that even tears were not right, and she 
 felt that she ought only to sit still and think of it, 
 and be frightened; it seemed to her just then as if 
 she would have to do the same thing for the rest 
 of her days. She spent several hours in her room 
 without once moving, and without being disturbed, 
 for her aunt was sufficiently annoyed at her morn 
 ing s reception not to visit her again. The lunch 
 hour passed, therefore, unthought of by Helen, and 
 it was an hour or two later before she heard her 
 aunt s step in the hall, and her knock upon the 
 door. 
 
 Mrs. Roberts entered and stood in the center of 
 the room, gazing at Helen, and at the look of help 
 less despair which she turned towards her; the 
 woman s own lips were set very tightly. 
 
 "Well?" she said abruptly, "have you had your 
 wish, and are you happy?" 
 
 235 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Helen did not answer, nor did she half realize 
 the question, so lost was she in her own misery. 
 Hhe sat gazing at her aunt, while the latter went 
 on: "You have had jour way in one thing, at any 
 rate, Helen; Mr. Harrison is downstairs to see you." 
 
 The girl gave a slight start, but then she an 
 swered quietly: "Thank you, Auntie; I shall go 
 down and see him." 
 
 "Helen," said Mrs. Roberts, "do you still refuse 
 to tell me anything of what I ask you?" 
 
 Helen was quite too much humbled to wish to 
 oppose anyone just then; and she answered mourn 
 fully, "What is it that you wish?" 
 
 "I wish to know in the first place why you wanted 
 to see Mr. Harrison." 
 
 "I wanted to see him to tell him that I could not 
 marry him, Aunt Polly." 
 
 And Mrs. Roberts sat down opposite Helen and 
 fixed her gaze upon her. "I knew that was it," she 
 said grimly. "Now, Helen, what in the world has 
 come over you to make you behave in this fashion?" 
 
 "Oh, it is so much to tell you," began the girl; 
 "I don t know " 
 
 "What did you find at Hilltown?" went on her 
 aunt persistently. "Did you see Arthur?" 
 
 "No, Aunt Polly, that is what is the matter; he 
 has gone." 
 
 "Gone! Gone where?" 
 
 "Away, Aunt Polly! Nobody saw him go, and 
 he left a note saying that he would never return. 
 And I am so frightened " 
 
 Mrs. Roberts was gazing at her niece with a 
 236 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 puzzled look upon her face. She interrupted her 
 by echoing the word "frightened" inquiringly. 
 
 "Yes, Auntie I" cried the girl; "for I may never 
 be able to find him again, to undo what I have 
 done!" 
 
 And Mrs. Roberts responded with a wondering 
 laugh, and observed, "For my part, I should think 
 you d be very glad to be rid of him so." 
 
 She saw Helen give a start, but she could not 
 read the girl s mind, and did not know how much 
 she had done to estrange her by those words. It 
 was as if Helen s whole soul had shrunk back in 
 horror, and she sat staring at her aunt with open 
 eyes. 
 
 "I suppose you think," the other went on grimly, 
 "that I am going to share all this wonderful senti 
 mentality with you about that boy; but I assure 
 you that you don t know me! He may get you to 
 weep over him because he chooses to behave like a 
 fool, but not me." 
 
 Helen was still for a moment, and then she said, 
 in an awe-stricken voice: "Aunt Polly, I have 
 wrecked Arthur s life!" Mrs. Roberts responded 
 with a loud guffaw, which was to the other so 
 offensive that it was like a blow in the face. 
 
 Wrecked his life!" the woman cried scornfully. 
 "Helen, you talk like a baby! Can t you know in 
 the first place that Arthur is doing all this high- 
 tragedy acting for nothing in the world but to 
 frighten you? Wrecked his life! And there you 
 were, I suppose, all ready to get down on your knees 
 to him, and beg his pardon for daring to be engaged, 
 and to promise to come to his attic and live off 
 
 237 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 bread and water, if he would only be good and not 
 run away!" 
 
 Mrs. Roberts voice was bitter and mocking, and 
 her words seemed to Helen almost blasphemy; it 
 had never occurred to her that such grief as hers 
 would not be sacred to anyone. Yet there was no 
 thought of anger in her mind just then, for she 
 had been chastened in a fiery furnace, and was too 
 full of penitence and humility for even that much 
 egotism. She only bowed her head, and said, in 
 a trembling voice: "Oh, Aunt Polly, I would stay 
 in an attic and live off bread and water for the rest 
 of my days, if I could only clear my conscience of 
 the dreadful thing I have done/ 
 
 "A beautiful sentiment indeed!" said Mrs. Kob- 
 erts, with a sniff of disgust; and she stood survey 
 ing her niece in silence for a minute or two. Then 
 smothering her feelings a little, she asked her in a 
 quieter voice, "And so, Helen, you are really going 
 to fling aside the life opportunity that is yours for 
 such nonsense as this? There is no other reason?" 
 
 "There is another reason, Aunt Polly," said 
 Helen; "it is so dreadful of you to ask me in that 
 way. How can you have expected me to marry a 
 man just because he was rich?" 
 
 "Oh," said the other, "so that is it! And pray 
 what put the idea into your head so suddenly?" 
 She paused a moment, and then, as the girl did not 
 raise her head, she went on, sarcastically, "I fancy 
 I know pretty well where you got all of these won 
 derful new ideas; you have not been talking with 
 Mr. Howard for nothing, I see." 
 
 "No, not for nothing," said Helen gently. 
 238 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "A nice state of affairs!" continued the other 
 angrily; "I knew pretty well that his head was full 
 of nonsense, but when I asked him here I thought at 
 least that he would know enough about good man 
 ners to mind his own affairs. So he has been talk 
 ing to you, has he? And now you cannot possibly 
 marry a rich man!" 
 
 Mrs. Roberts stopped, quite too angry to find any 
 more words; but as she sat for a minute or two, 
 gazing at Helen, it must have occurred to her that 
 she w r ould not accomplish anything in that way. 
 She made an effort to swallow her emotions. 
 
 "Helen, dear," she said, sitting down near her 
 niece, "why will you worry me in this dreadful 
 way, axid make me speak so crossly to you? I can 
 not teU you, Helen, what a torment it is to me to 
 see you throwing yourself away in this fashion; I 
 implore you to stop and think before you take this 
 step, for as sure as you are alive you will regret 
 it all your days. Just think of it how you will 
 feel, and bow I will feel, when you look back at the 
 happiness you might have had, and know that it is 
 too late! And, Helen, it is due to nothing in the 
 world but to your inexperience that you have let 
 yourself be carried away by these sublimities. You 
 must know, child, and you can see if you choose, 
 that they have nothing to do with life; they will 
 not butter your bread, Helen, or pay your coach 
 man, and when you get over all this excitement, 
 you will find that what I tell you is true. Look about 
 you in the world, and where can you find anybody 
 who lives according to such ideas?" 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "What ideas do you mean, Aunt Polly?" asked 
 Helen, with a puzzled look. 
 
 "Oh, don t you suppose," answered the other, 
 "that I know perfectly well what kind of stuff it is 
 that Mr. Howard has talked to you? I used to hear 
 all that kind of thing when I was young, and I be 
 lieved some of it, too, about how beautiful it was 
 to marry for love, and to have a fine scorn of wealth 
 and all the rest of it; but it wasn t very long be 
 fore I found out that such opinions were of no use 
 in the world." 
 
 "Then you don t believe in love, Aunt Polly?" 
 asked Helen, fixing her eyes on the other. 
 
 "What s the use of asking such an absurd ques 
 tion?" was the answer. "Of course I believe in 
 love; I wanted you to love Mr. Harrison, and you 
 might have, if you had chosen. I learned to love 
 Mr. Roberts; naturally, a couple have to love each 
 other, or how would they ever live happily together? 
 But what has that to do with this ridiculous talk of 
 Mr. Howard s? As if two people had nothing else 
 to do in the world but to love each other! It s all 
 very well, Helen, for a man who chooses to live like 
 Robinson Crusoe to talk such nonsense, but he 
 ought not to put it in the mind of a sentimental 
 girl. He would very soon find, if he came out into 
 life, that the world isn t run by love, and that 
 people need a good many other things to keep them 
 happy in it. You ought to have sense enough to 
 see that you ve got to live a different sort of a life, 
 and that Mr. Howard knows nothing in the world 
 about your needs. I don t go alone and live in vis 
 ions, and make myself imaginary lives, Helen; I 
 
 240 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 look at the world as it is. You will have to learn 
 some day that the real way to find happiness is to 
 take things as you find them, and get the best out 
 of life you can. I never had one-tenth of your ad 
 vantages, and yet there aren t many people in the 
 world better off than I am; and you could be just 
 as happy, if you would only take my advice about 
 it. What I am talking to you is common sense, 
 Helen, and anybody that you choose to ask will tell 
 you the same thing." 
 
 So Mrs. Roberts went on, quite fairly under way 
 in her usual course of argument, and rousing all 
 her faculties for this last struggle. She was as 
 convinced as ever of the completeness of her own 
 views, and of the effect which they must have upon 
 Helen; perhaps it was not her fault that she did 
 not know to what another person she was talking. 
 
 In truth, it would not be easy to tell how great 
 a difference there was in the effect of those old 
 arguments upon Helen; while she had been sitting 
 in her room alone and suffering so very keenly, the 
 girl had been, though she did not know it, very near 
 indeed to the sacred truths of life, and now as she 
 listened to her aunt, she was simply holding her 
 breath. The climax came suddenly, for as the other 
 stopped, Helen leaned forward in her chair, and 
 gazing deep into her eyes asked her, Aunt I oliy. 
 can it really be that you do not know that \vh.i i 
 you have been saying to me is dreadfully wi< k<- 1 f 
 
 There was perhaps nothing that the girl could 
 have done to take her complacent relative more by 
 surprise; Mrs. Roberts sat for a moment, echoing 
 the last word, and staring as if not quite able to 
 
 16 241 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 realize what Helen meant. As the truth came to 
 her she turned quite pale. 
 
 "It seems to me," she said with a sneer, "that I 
 remember a time when it didn t seem quite so 
 wicked to you. If I am not mistaken you were 
 quite glad to do all that I told you, and to get as 
 much as ever you could." 
 
 Helen was quite used to that taunt in her own 
 heart, and to the pain that it brought her, so she 
 only lowered her eyes and said nothing. In the 
 meantime Mrs. Roberts was going on in her sar 
 castic tone: 
 
 "Wicked indeed!" she ejaculated, "and I suppose 
 all that I have been doing for you was wicked too! 
 I suppose it was wicked of me to watch over your 
 education all these years as I have, and to plan 
 your future as if you were my own child, so that 
 you might amount to something in the world; and 
 it was wicked of me to take all the trouble that I 
 have for your happiness, and wicked of Mr. Roberts 
 to go to all the trouble about the trousseau that 
 he has! The only right and virtuous thing about 
 it all is the conduct of our niece who causes us to 
 do it all, and who promises herself to a man and 
 lets him go to all the trouble that he has, and then 
 gets her head full of sanctimonious notions and 
 begins to preach about wickedness to her elders!" 
 
 Helen had nothing to reply to those bitter words, 
 for it was only too easy just then to make her ac 
 cuse herself of anything. She sat meekly suffer 
 ing, and thinking that the other was quite justified 
 in all her anger. Mrs. Roberts was, of course, quite 
 incapable of appreciating her mood, and continued 
 
 242 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 to pour out her sarcasm, and to grow more and more 
 bitter. To tell the truth, the worthy matron had 
 not been half so unselfish in her hopes about Helen 
 as she liked to pretend, and she showed then that 
 like most people of the world who are perfectly 
 good-natured on the surface, she could display no 
 little ugliness when thwarted in her ambitions and 
 offended in her pride. 
 
 It was not possible, however, for her to find a 
 word that could seem to Helen unjust, so much was 
 the girl already humbled. It was only after her 
 aunt had ceased to direct her taunts at her, and 
 turned her spite upon Mr. Howard and his superior 
 ideas, that it seemed to Helen that it was not help 
 ing her to hear any more; then she rose and said, 
 very gently, "Aunt Polly, I am sorry that you feel 
 so about me, and I wish that I could explain to you 
 better what I am doing. I know that what I did 
 at first was all wrong, but that is no reason why 
 I should leave it wrong forever. I think now that 
 I ought to go and talk to Mr. Harrison, who is 
 waiting for me, and after that I want you to please 
 send me home, because father will be there to-day, 
 and I want to tell him about how dreadfully I have 
 treated Arthur, and beg him to forgive me." 
 
 Then, without waiting for any reply, the girl left 
 the room and went slowly down the steps. The sor 
 row that possessed her lay so deep upon her heart 
 that everything else seemed trivial in comparison, 
 and she had put aside and forgotten the whole 
 scene with her aunt before she had reached the 
 parlor where Mr. Harrison was waiting; she did not 
 
 243 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 stop to compose herself or to think what to say, 
 but went quickly into the room. 
 
 Mr. Harrison, who was standing by the window, 
 turned when he heard her; she answered his greet 
 ing kindly, and then sat down and remained very 
 still for a moment or two, gazing at her hands in 
 her lap. At last she raised her eyes to him, and 
 asked: "Mr. Harrison, did you receive the letter 
 I wrote you?" 
 
 "Yes," the other answered quickly, "I did. I 
 cannot tell you how much pain it caused me. And, 
 Helen or must I call you Miss Davis?" 
 
 "You may call me Helen," said the girl simply. 
 "I was very sorry to cause you pain," she added, 
 "but there was nothing else that I could do." 
 
 "At least," the other responded, "I hope that 
 you will not refuse to explain to me why this step 
 is necessary?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Harrison," said Helen, "it is right that 
 I should tell you all, no matter how hard it is to me 
 to do it. It is all because of a great wrong that I 
 have done; I know that when I have told you, you 
 will think very badly of me indeed, but I have no 
 right to do anything except to speak the truth." 
 
 She said that in a very low voice, not allowing her 
 eyes to drop, and wearing upon her face the look of 
 sadness which seemed now to belong to it always. 
 Mr. Harrison gazed at her anxiously, and said: 
 "You seem to have been ill, Helen." 
 
 "I have been very unhappy, Mr. Harrison," she 
 answered, "and I do not believe I can ever be other 
 wise again. Did you not notice that I was un 
 happy?" 
 
 244 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "I never thought of it until yesterday," the other 
 replied. 
 
 "Until the drive, * said Helen; "that was the 
 climax of it. I must tell you the reason why I was 
 so frightened then, that I have a friend who was 
 as dear to me as if he were my brother, and he loved 
 me very much, very much more than I deserve to be 
 loved by anyone; and when I was engaged to you he 
 was very ill, and because I knew I was doing so 
 wrong I did not dare to go and see him. That was 
 why I was afraid to pass through Hilltown. The 
 reason I was so frightened afterwards is that I 
 caught a glimpse of him, and he was in such a 
 dreadful way. This morning I found that he had 
 left his home and gone away, no one knows where, 
 so that - fear J shall never see him again." 
 
 Helen paused, and the other, who had sat down 
 and was leaning forward anxiously, asked her, 
 "Then it is this friend that you love?" 
 
 "No," the girl replied, "it is not that; I do not 
 love anybody." 
 
 "But then I do not understand," went on Mr. Har 
 rison, with a puzzled look. "You spoke of its hav 
 ing been so wrong; was it not your right to wish to 
 marry me?" 
 
 And Helen, punishing herself as she had learned 
 so bravely to do, did not lower her eyes even then; 
 she flushed somewhat, however, as she answered: 
 "Mr. Harrison, do you know why I wished to marry 
 you?" 
 
 The other started a trifle, and looked very much 
 at a loss indeed. "Why?" he echoed. "No, I do not 
 know that is I never thought " 
 
 245 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "It hurts me more than I can tell you to have to 
 say this to you," Helen said, "for you were right 
 and true in your feeling. But did you think that I 
 was that, Mr. Harrison? Did you think that I 
 really loved you?" 
 
 Probably the good man had never been more em 
 barrassed in his life than he was just then. The 
 truth to be told, he was perfectly well aware why 
 Helen had wished to marry him, and had been all 
 along, without seeing anything in that for which 
 to dislike her; he was quite without an answer to 
 her present question, and could only cough and 
 stammer, and reach for his handkerchief. The girl 
 went on quickly, without waiting very long for his 
 reply. 
 
 "I owe it to you to tell you the truth," she said, 
 "and then it will no longer cause you pain to give 
 me up. For I did not love you at all, Mr. Harrison; 
 but I loved all that you offered me, and I allowed 
 myself to be tempted thus, to promise to marry 
 you. Ever afterwards I was quite wretched, be 
 cause I knew that I was doing something wicked, 
 and yet I never had the courage to stop. So it went 
 on until my punishment came yesterday. .1 have 
 suffered fearfully since that." 
 
 Helen had said all that there was to be said, and 
 she stopped and took a deep breath of relief. There 
 was a minute or two of silence, after which Mr. 
 Harrison asked: "And you really think that it 
 was so wrong to promise to marry me for the happi 
 ness that I could offer you?" 
 
 Helen gazed at him in surprise as she echoed, 
 "Was it so wrong?" And at. the r.ame moment 
 
 246 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 even while she was speaking, a memory flashed 
 across her mind, the memory of what had occurred 
 at Fairview the last time she had been there with 
 Mr. Harrison. A deep, burning blush mantled her 
 face, and her eyes dropped, and ^he trembled visibly. 
 It was a better response to the other s question 
 than any words could have been, and because in 
 spite of his contact with the world he was still in 
 his heart a gentleman, he understood and changed 
 color himself and looked away, feeling perhaps 
 more rebuked and humbled than he had ever felt in 
 his life before. 
 
 So they sat thus for several minutes without 
 speaking a word, or looking at each other, each 
 doing penance in his own heart. At last, in a very 
 low voice, the man said, "Helen, I do not know just 
 how I can ever apologize to you." 
 
 The girl answered quietly: "I could not let you 
 apologize to me, Mr. Harrison, for I never once 
 thought that you had done anything wrong." 
 
 "I have done very wrong indeed," he answered, 
 his voice trembling, u for I do not think that I had 
 any right even to ask you to marry me. You make 
 me feel suddenly how very coarse a world I have 
 lived in, and how much lower than yours all my 
 ways of thinking are. You look surprised that I 
 say that," he added, as he saw that the girl was 
 about to interrupt him, u but you do not know much 
 about the world. Do you suppose that there are 
 many women in society who would hesitate to 
 marry me for my money?" 
 
 "I do not know," said Helen, slowly; u but, Mr. 
 247 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Harrison, you could certainly never be happy with 
 a woman who would do that." 
 
 "I do not think now that I should," the man re 
 plied, earnestly, "but I did not feel that way before. 
 I did not have much else to offer, Helen, for money 
 is all that a man like me ever tries to get in the 
 world." 
 
 "It is so very wrong, Mr. Harrison," put in the 
 other, quickly. "When people live in that way they 
 come to lose sight of all that is right and beautiful 
 in life; and it is all so selfish and wicked!" (Those 
 were words which might have made Mr. Howard 
 smile a trifle had he been there to hear them; but 
 Helen was too much in earnest to think about being 
 original.) 
 
 "I know," said Mr. Harrison, "and I used to be 
 lieve in such things; but one never meets anyone 
 else that does, and it is so easy to live differently. 
 When you spoke to me as you did just now, you 
 made me seem a very poor kind of a person indeed." 
 
 The man paused, and Helen sat gazing at him 
 with a worried look upon her face. "It was not 
 that which I meant to do," she began, but then she 
 stopped; and after a long silence, Mr. Harrison 
 took up the conversation again, speaking in a low, 
 earnest voice. 
 
 "Helen," he said, "you have made me see that I 
 am quite unworthy to ask for your regard, that I 
 have really nothing fit to offer you. But I might 
 have one thing that you could appreciate, for I 
 could worship, really worship, such a woman as 
 you; and I could do everything that I could think 
 of to make myself worthy of you, even if it meant 
 
 248 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 the changing of all my ways of life. Do you not 
 suppose that you could quite forget that I was a rich 
 man, Helen, and still let me be devoted to you?" 
 
 There was a look in Mr. Harrison s eyes as he 
 gazed at her just then which made him seem to her 
 a different sort of a man, as indeed he was. She 
 answered very gently. "Mr. Harrison," she said, 
 "it would be a great happiness to me to know that 
 anyone felt so about me. But I could never marry 
 you; I do not love you." 
 
 "And you do not think," asked the other, "that 
 yo j could ever come to love me, no matter how long 
 I might wait?" 
 
 "I do not think so," Helen said in a low voice. 
 "I wish that you would not ever think of me so." 
 
 "It is very easy to say that," the man answered, 
 pleadingly, "but how am I to do it? For every 
 thing that I have seems cheap compared with the 
 thought of you. Why should I go on with the life 
 I have been leading, heaping up wealth that J do 
 not know how to use, and that makes me no better 
 and no happier? I thought of you as a new motive 
 for going on, Helen, and you must know that a man 
 cannot so easily change his feelings. For I really 
 loved you, and I do love you still, and I think that I 
 always must love you." 
 
 Helen s own suffering had made her alive to other 
 people s feelings, and the tone of voice in which he 
 spoke those words moved her very much. She 
 leaned over and laid her hand upon his, some 
 thing which she would not have thought she could 
 ever do. 
 
 "Mr. Harrison," she said, "I cannot tell you how 
 
 249 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 much it hurts me to have you speak to me so, for it 
 makes me see more than ever how cruelly unfeeling 
 I have been, and how much I have wronged you. 
 It was for that I wished to beg you to forgive me, 
 to forgive me just out of the goodness of your heart, 
 for .1 cannot offer any excuse for what I did. It 
 makes me quite wretched to have to say that, and 
 to know that others are suffering because of my 
 selfishness; if I had any thought of the sacredness 
 of the beauty God has given me, I would never 
 have let you think of me as you did, and caused you 
 the pain that I have. But you must forgive me, Mr. 
 Harrison, and help me, for to think of your being 
 unhappy about me also would be really more than 
 I could bear. Sometimes when I think of the one 
 great sorrow that I have already upon my con 
 science, I feel that I do not know what 1 am to do; 
 and you must go away and forget about me, for my 
 sake if not for your own. I really cannot love any 
 one; I do not think that I am fit to love anyone; 
 I only do not want to make anyone else unhappy." 
 
 And Helen stopped again, and pressed her hand 
 upon Mr. Harrison s imploringly. He sat gazing at 
 her in silence for a minute, and then he said, 
 slowly: "When you put it so, it is very hard for 
 me to say anything more. If you are only sure that 
 that is your final word that there is really no 
 chance that you could ever love me, " 
 
 "I am perfectly sure of it," the girl answered; 
 "and because I know how cruel it sounds, it is 
 harder for me to say than for you to hear. But it 
 is really the truth, Mr. Harrison. I do not think 
 
 250 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 that you ought to see me again until you are sure 
 that it will not make you unhappy." 
 
 The man sat for a moment after that, with his 
 head bowed, and then he bit his lip very hard and 
 rose from his chair. "You can never know," he 
 said, "how lonely it makes a man feel to hear words 
 like those." But he took Helen s hand in his and 
 held it for an instant, and then added: kk l shall do 
 as you ask me. Good-by." And he let her hand 
 fall and went to the door. There he stopped to 
 gaze once again for a moment, and then turned 
 and disappeared, closing the door behind him. 
 
 Helen was left seated in the chair, where she re 
 mained for several minutes, leaning forward with 
 her head in her hands, and gazing steadily in fi-ont 
 of her, thinking very grave thoughts. She rose at 
 last, however, and brushed back the hair from her 
 forehead, and went slowly towards the door. It 
 would have seemed lack of feeling to her, had. she 
 thought of it, but even before she had reached the 
 stairs the scene through which she had just passed 
 was gone from her mind entirely, and she was say 
 ing to herself, If I could only know where Arthur 
 is this afternoon!" 
 
 Her mind was still full of that thought when she 
 entered the room, where she found her aunt seated 
 just as she had left her, and in no more pleasant 
 humor than before. 
 
 "You have told him, I suppose?" she inquired. 
 
 "Yes," Helen said, "I have told him, Aunt Tolly." 
 
 "And now you are happy, I suppose!" 
 
 "No, indeed, I am very far from that," said Helen, 
 and she went to the window; she stood there, ga/- 
 
 251 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ing out, but with her thoughts equally far awaj 
 from the scene outside as from Mrs. Roberts warn 
 ings and sarcasms. The latter had gone on for 
 several minutes before her niece turned suddenly. 
 "Excuse me for interrupting you, Aunt Polly," she 
 said; "but I want to know whether Mr Howard has 
 gone yet." 
 
 "His train goes in an hour or so," said Mrs. Kob- 
 erts, not very graciously. 
 
 "I think I will see if he is downstairs," Helen re 
 sponded; "I wish to speak to him before he goes." 
 And so she descended and found Mr. Howard seated 
 alone upon the piazza. 
 
 Taking a seat beside him, she said, "I did not 
 thank you when I left you in the carriage, Mr. How 
 ard, for having been so kind to me; but I was so 
 wrapped up in my worry " 
 
 "I understood perfectly," put in the other. "1 
 saw that you felt too keenly about your discovery 
 to have anything to say to me." 
 
 "I feel no less keenly about it now," said Helen; 
 "but I could not let you go away until I had spoken 
 to you." She gazed very earnestly at him as she 
 continued: "I have to tell you how much you have 
 done for me, and how I thank you for it from the 
 bottom of my heart. I simply cannot say how much 
 all that you have shown me has meant to me; I 
 should have cared for nothing but to have you tell 
 me what it would be right for me to do with my 
 life, if only it had not been for this dreadful mis 
 fortune of Arthur s, which makes it seem as if it 
 would be wicked for me to think about anything." 
 
 Mr. Howard sat gazing in front of him for a 
 252 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 moment, and then he said gently, "What if the 
 change that you speak of were to be accomplished, 
 Miss Davis, without your ever thinking about it? 
 For what is it that makes the difference between 
 being thoughtless and selfish, and being noble and 
 good, if it be not simply to walk reverently in God s 
 great temple of life, and to think with sorrow of 
 one s own self? Believe me, my dear friend, the 
 best men that have lived on earth have seen no more 
 cause to be pleased with themselves than you." 
 
 "That may be true, Mr. Howard," said Helen, 
 sadly, "but it can do me no good to know it. It 
 does not make what happens to Arthur a bit less 
 dreadful to think of." 
 
 "It is the most painful fact about all our wrong," 
 the other answered, "that no amount of repentance 
 can ever alter the consequences. But, Miss Davis, 
 that is a guilt which all creation carries on its 
 shoulders; it is what is symbolized in the Fall of 
 Man that he has to realize that he might have had 
 infinite beauty and joy for his portion, if only the 
 soul within him had never weakened and failed. 
 Let me tell you that he is a lucky man who can look 
 back at all his life and see no more shameful guilt 
 than yours, and no consequence worse than yours 
 can be." As Mr. Howard spoke he saw a startled 
 look cross the girl s face, and he added, "Do not 
 suppose that I am saying that to comfort you, for 
 it is really the truth. It oftens happens too, that 
 the natures that are strongest and most ardent in 
 their search for righteousness have the worst sins 
 to remember." 
 
 Helen did not answer for several moments, for 
 
 253 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 the thought was strange to her; then suddenly she 
 gazed at the other very earnestly and said: "Mr. 
 Howard, you are a man who lives for what is beauti 
 ful and high, suppose that you had to carry all 
 through your life the burden of such guilt as 
 mine?" 
 
 The man s voice was trembling slightly as he an 
 swered her: "It is not hard for me to suppose that, 
 Miss Davis; I have such a burden to carry." As he 
 raised his eyes he saw a still more wondering look 
 upon her countenance. 
 
 "But the consequences!" she exclaimed. "Surely, 
 Mr. Howard, you could not bear to live if you 
 knew " 
 
 "I have never known the consequences," said the 
 man, as she stopped abruptly; a just as you may 
 never know them; but this I know, that yours could 
 not be so dreadful as mine must be. I know also 
 that I am far more to blame for them than you." 
 
 Helen could not have told what caused the 
 emotion which made her shudder so just then as 
 she gazed into Mr. Howard s dark eyes. Her voice 
 was almost a whisper as she said, "And yet you are 
 good!" 
 
 "I am good," said the man gently, "with all the 
 goodness that any man can claim, the goodness of 
 trying to be better. You may be that also." 
 
 Helen sat for a long time in silence after that, 
 wondering at what was passing in her own mind; 
 it was as if she had caught a sudden glimpse into a 
 great vista of life. She had always before thought 
 of this man s suffering as having been physical ; and 
 the deep movement of sympathy and awe which 
 
 254 
 
Kl.VC MIDAS 
 
 stirred her now w;is one step farther from her own 
 self-absorption, and one step nearer to the suffering 
 that is the heart of things. 
 
 But Helen had to keep that thought and dwell 
 upon it in solitude; there was no chance for her to 
 talk with Mr. Howard any more, for she heard her 
 aunt s step in the hall behind her. She had only 
 time to say, "I am going home myself this after 
 noon; will you come there to see me, Mr. Howard? 
 I cannot tell you how much pleasure it would give 
 me." 
 
 "There is nothing I should like to do more," the 
 man answered; U I hope to keep your friendship. 
 When would you like me to come?" 
 
 "Any time that you can," replied Helen. "Come 
 soon, for I know how unhappy I shall be." 
 
 That was practically the last word she said to 
 Mr. Howard, for her aunt joined them, and after 
 that the conversation was formal. It was not very 
 long before the carriage came for him, and Helen 
 pressed his hand gratefully at parting, and stood 
 leaning against a pillar of the porch, shading her 
 eyes from the sun while she watched the carriage 
 depart. Then she sat down to wait for it to return 
 from the depot for her, which it did before long; 
 and so she bid farewell to her aunt. 
 
 It was a great relief to Helen; and while we know 
 not what emotions it may cause to the reader, it is 
 perhaps well to say that he may likewise pay his 
 last respects to the worthy matron, who will not 
 take part in the humble events of which the rest of 
 our story must be composed. 
 
 For Helen was going home, home to the poor 
 
 25: 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 little parsonage of Oakdale! She was going with a 
 feeling of relief in her heart second only to her sor 
 row; the more she had come to feel how shallow 
 and false was the splendor that had allured her, the 
 more she had found herself drawn to her old home, 
 with its memories that *vere so dear and so beautiful. 
 She felt that there she might at least think of 
 Arthur all that she chose, and meet with nothing to 
 affront her grief; and also she found herself think 
 ing of her father s love with a new kind of hunger. 
 
 When she arrived, she found Mr. Davis waiting 
 for her with a very anxious look upon his counte 
 nance; he had stopped at Hilltown on his way, and 
 learned about Arthur s disappearance, and then 
 heard from Elizabeth what she knew about Helen s 
 engagement. The girl flung herself into his arms, 
 and afterwards, quite overcome by the emotions 
 that surged up within her, sank down upon her 
 knees before him and sobbed out the whole story, 
 her heart bursting with sorrow and contrition; as 
 he lifted her up and kissed her and whispered his 
 beautiful words of pardon and comfort, Helen 
 found it a real homecoming indeed. 
 
 Mr. Davis was also able to calm her worry a little 
 by telling her that he did not think it possible that 
 Arthur would keep his whereabouts secret from 
 him very long. "When I find him, dear child," he 
 said, "it will all be well again, for we will believe 
 in love, you and I, and not care what the great 
 world says about it. I think I could be well content 
 that you should marry our dear Arthur." 
 
 "But, father, I do not love him," put in Helen 
 faintly. 
 
 256 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "That may come in time," said the other, kissing 
 her tenderly, and smiling. "There is no need to 
 talk of it, for you are too young to marry, anyway. 
 And in the meantime we must find him." 
 
 There was a long silence after that. Helen sat 
 down on the sofa beside her father and put her arms 
 about him and leaned her head upon his bosom, 
 drinking in deep drafts of his pardon and love. 
 She told him about Mr. Howard, and of the words 
 of counsel which he had given her, and how he was 
 coming to see her again. Afterwards the conversa 
 tion came back to Arthur and his love for Helen, 
 and then Mr. Davis went on to add something that 
 caused Helen to open her eyes very wide and gaze 
 at him in wonder. 
 
 "There is still another reason for wishing to find 
 him soon," he said, "for something else has hap 
 pened to-day that he ought to know about." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Helen. 
 
 "I don t know that I ought to tell you about it 
 just now," said the other, "for it is a very sad 
 story. But someone was here to see Arthur this 
 morning someone whom I never expected to see 
 again in all my life." 
 
 "To see Arthur?" echoed the girl in perplexity. 
 "Who could want to see Arthur?" As her father 
 went on she gave a great start. 
 
 "It was his mother," said Mr. Davis. 
 
 And Helen stared at him, gasping for breath as 
 she echoed the words, "His mother!" 
 
 "You may well be astonished," said the clergy 
 man. "But the woman proved beyond doubt that 
 
 *7 257 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 she was really the person who left Arthur with 
 me." 
 
 "You did not recognize her?" 
 
 "No, Helen; for it has been twenty-one or two 
 years since I saw her, and she has changed very 
 much since then. But she told me that in all that 
 time she has never once lost sight of her boy, and 
 has been watching all that he did." 
 
 "Where has she been?" 
 
 "She did not tell me," the other answered, "but 
 I fancy in New York. The poor woman has lived a 
 very dreadful life, a life of such wretched wicked 
 ness that we cannot even talk about it; I think I 
 never heard of more cruel suffering. I was glad 
 that you were not here to see her, or know about 
 it until after she was gone; she said that she had 
 come to see Arthur once, because she was going 
 away to die." 
 
 "To die!" exclaimed the girl, in horror. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Davis, "to die; she looked as if 
 she could not live many days longer. I begged her 
 to let me see that she was provided for, but she 
 said that she was going to find her way back to her 
 old home, somewhere far off in the country, and she 
 would hear of nothing else. She would not tell 
 the name of the place, nor her own name, but she 
 left a letter for Arthur, and begged me to find him 
 and give it to him, so that he might come and speak 
 to her once if he cared to do so. She begged me 
 to forgive her for the trouble she had caused me, 
 and to pray that God would forgive her too; and 
 then she bade me farewell and dragged herself 
 away." 
 
 258 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Mr. Davis stopped, and Helen sat for a long time 
 staring ahead of her, with a very frightened look 
 in her eyes, and thinking, "Oh, we must find Ar 
 thur!" Then she turned to her fat her, her lips trem 
 bling and her countenance very pale. "Tell me," 
 she said, in a low, awe-stricken voice, "a long time 
 ago someone must have wronged that woman." 
 
 "Yes, dear," said Mr. Davis, "when she was not 
 even as old as you are. And the man who wronged 
 her was worth millions of dollars, Helen, and could 
 have saved her from all her suffering with a few of 
 them if he cared to. No one but God knows his 
 name, for the woman would not tell it." 
 
 Helen sat for a moment or two staring at him 
 wildly; and then suddenly she buried her head in 
 his bosom and burst into tears, sobbing so cruelly 
 that her father was sorry he had told her what he 
 had. He knew why that story moved her so, and it 
 wrung his heart to think of it, that this child of 
 his had put upon her own shoulders some of that 
 burden of the guilt of things, and must suffer be 
 neath it, perhaps for the rest of her days. 
 
 When Helen gazed up at him again there was the 
 old frightened look upon her face, and all his at 
 tempts to comfort her were useless. "No, no!" she 
 whispered. "No, father! I cannot even think of 
 peace again, until we have found Arthur!" 
 
 lich-es Vog - 
 259 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "A fugitive and gracious light he seeks, 
 
 Shy to illumine; and I seek it too. 
 This does not come with houses or with gold, 
 
 With place, with honor, and a nattering crew; 
 Tis not in the world s market bought and sold." 
 
 THREE days passed by after Helen had returned 
 to her father, during which the girl stayed by her 
 self most of the time. When the breaking off of 
 her engagement was known, many of her old 
 friends came to see her, but the hints that they 
 dropped did not move her to any confidences; she 
 felt that it would not be possible for her to find 
 among them any understanding of her present 
 moods. Her old life, or rather the life to which 
 she had been looking forward, seemed to her quite 
 empty and shallow, and there was nothing useful 
 that she knew of to do except to offer to help her 
 father in such ways as she could. She drew back 
 into her ow r n heart, giving most of her time to 
 thinking about Mr. Howard and Arthur, and no 
 one but her father knew why it was that she was 
 so subdued and silent. 
 
 It was only on the third morning, when there 
 came a letter from Mr. Howard saying that he was 
 coming out that afternoon to see her, that Helen 
 seemed to be interested and stirred again. She 
 went to the window more than once to look for 
 
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 him; and when at last her friend had arrived, and 
 the two were seated in the parlor, she said to him 
 without waiting for any circumstance, "I have been 
 wishing very much to see you, Mr. Howard, be 
 cause there is something I am anxious to talk to 
 you about, if you will let me." 
 
 "I am sorry to say that it is about myself," she 
 went on, when the other had expressed his willing 
 ness to hear her, "for I want to ask you to help 
 me, and to give me some advice. I ought to have 
 asked you the questions I am going to before this, 
 but the last time I saw you I could think about 
 nothing but Arthur. They only came to me after 
 you had gone." 
 
 "What are they?" asked the man. 
 
 "You must know, Mr. Howard," said Helen, "that 
 it is you who have shown me the wrongness of all 
 that I was doing in my life, and stirred me with a 
 desire to do better. I find now that such thoughts 
 have always been so far from me that the wish to 
 be right is all that I have, and I do not know at all 
 what to do. It seemed to me that I would rather 
 talk to you about it than to anyone, even my own 
 father. I do not know whether that is just right, 
 but you do not mind my asking you, do you?" 
 
 "It is my wish to help you in every way that I 
 can," was the gentle response. 
 
 "I will tell you what I have been thinking," said 
 Helen. "I have been so unhappy in the last three 
 days that I have done nothing at all; but it seemed 
 to me somehow that it must be wrong of me to let 
 go of myself in that way as if I had no right to 
 pamper myself and indulge my own feelings. It 
 
 261 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 was not that I wished to forget what wrong things 
 I have done, or keep from suffering because of them; 
 yet it seemed to me that the fact that I was 
 wretched and frightened was no excuse for my 
 doing no good for the rest of my life. When I have 
 thought about my duty before, it has always been 
 my school-girl s task of studying and practicing 
 music, but that is not at all what I want now, for I 
 cannot bear to think of such things while the mem 
 ory of Arthur is in my mind. I need something 
 that is not for myself, Mr. Howard, and I find my 
 self thinking that it should be something that I 
 do not like to do." 
 
 Helen paused for a moment, gazing at the other 
 anxiously; and then she went on: "You must know 
 that what is really behind what I am saying is 
 what you said that evening in the arbor, about the 
 kind of woman I ought to be because God has made 
 me beautiful. My heart is full of a great hunger 
 to be set right, and to get a clearer sight of the 
 things that are truly good in life. I want you to 
 talk to me about your own ideals, and what you 
 do to keep your life deep and true; and then to tell 
 me what you would do in my place. I promise you 
 that no matter how hard it may be I shall feel that 
 just what you tell me to do is my duty, and at least 
 I shall never be happy again until I have done it. 
 Do you understand how I feel, Mr. Howard?" 
 
 "Yes," the man answered, in a quiet voice, "I un 
 derstand you perfectly." And then as he paused, 
 watching the girl from beneath his dark brows, 
 Helen asked, "You do not mind talking to me about 
 yourself?" 
 
 262 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 % 
 "When a man lives all alone and as self-centered 
 
 as I," the other replied, smiling, "it is fatally easy 
 for him to do that; he may blend himself with his 
 ideals in such a curious way that he never talks 
 about anything else. But if you will excuse that, 
 I will tell you what I can." 
 
 "Tell me why it is that you live so much alone," 
 said the girl. "Is it that you do not care for 
 friends?" 
 
 "It is very difficult for a man who feels about life 
 as I do to fiud many friends," he responded. "If 
 one strives to dwell in deep things, and is very keen 
 and earnest about it, he is apt to find very little 
 to help him outside of himself; perhaps it is be 
 cause I have met very few persons in my life, but 
 it has not happened to me to find anyone who thinks 
 about it as I do, or who cares to live it with my 
 strenuousness. I have met musicians, some who 
 labored very hard at their art, but none who felt 
 it a duty to labor with their own souls, to make 
 them beautiful and strong; and I have met literary 
 men and scholars, but they were all interested in 
 books, and were willing to be learned, and to 
 classify and plod; I have never found one who was 
 swift and eager, and full of high impatience for 
 what is real and the best. There should come 
 times to a man, I think, when he feels that books 
 are an impertinence, when he knows that he has 
 only the long-delayed battle with his own heart to 
 fight, and the prize of its joy to win. When such 
 moods come upon him he sees that he has to live his 
 life upon his knees, and it is rarely indeed that he 
 knows of anyone who can follow him and share in 
 
 263 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 his labor. So it is that I have had to live all my 
 life by myself, Miss Davis." 
 
 "You have always done that?" Helen asked, as 
 he stopped. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "or for very many years. I 
 have a little house on the wildest of lakes up in the 
 mountains, where I play the hermit in the summer, 
 and where I should have been now if it had not 
 been that I yielded to your aunt s invitation. When 
 I spoke of having no friends I forgot the things of 
 Nature, which really do sympathize with an artist s 
 life; I find that they never fail to become full of 
 meaning whenever my own spirit shakes off its 
 bonds. It has always been a belief of mine that 
 there is riothing that Nature makes that is quite 
 so dull and unfeeling as man, with the exception 
 of children and lovers, I had much rather play my 
 violin for the flowers and the trees." 
 
 "You like to play it out of doors?" Helen asked, 
 with a sudden smile. 
 
 "Yes," laughed the other, "that is one of my 
 privileges as a hermit. It seems quite natural to 
 the wild things, for they have all a music of their 
 own, a wonderful, silent music that the best musi 
 cians cannot catch; do you not believe that, Miss 
 Davis?" 
 
 "Yes," Helen said, and sat gazing at her com 
 panion silently for a minute. "I should think a life 
 of such effort would be very hard," she said finally. 
 "Do you not ever fail?" 
 
 "I do not do much else," he replied with a sad 
 smile, "and get up and stumble on. The mastership 
 of one s heart is the ideal, you know; and after all 
 
 264 
 
KIXG MIDAS 
 
 one s own life cannot be anything but struggle and 
 failure, for the power lie is Irving to conquer is in 
 finite. When I find my life very hard I do not com 
 plain, but know that the reason for it is that I have 
 chosen to have it real, and that the essence of the 
 soul is its effort. I think that is a very important 
 thing to feel about life, Miss Davis." 
 
 "That is why I do not wish to be idle," said Helen. 
 
 "It is just because people do not know this fact 
 about the soul," the other continued, "and are not 
 willing to dare and suffer, and overcome dullness, 
 and keep their spiritual faculties free, that they 
 sink down as they grow older, and become what 
 they call practical, and talk very wisely about ex 
 perience. It is only when God sends into the world 
 a man of genius that no mountains of earth can 
 crush, and who keeps his faith and sweetness all 
 through his life that we learn the baseness of the 
 thought that experience necessarily brings cyni 
 cism and selfishness. There is to me in all this world 
 nothing more hateful than this disillusioned world- 
 liness, and nothing makes me angrier than to see 
 it taking the name of wisdom. If I were a man with 
 an art, there is nothing, I think, that I should feel 
 more called to make war upon; it is a very blow in 
 the face of God. Nothing makes me sadder than to 
 see the life that such people live, to see for in 
 stance how pathetic are the things they call their 
 entertainments; and when one knows himself that 
 life is a magic potion, to be drank with rapture and 
 awe, that every instance of it ought to be a hymn 
 of rejoicing, and the whole of it rich and full of 
 power, like some majestic symphony. I often find 
 
 265 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 myself wishing that there were some way of saving 
 the time that people spend in their pleasures; 
 
 " Life piled on life 
 Were all too little, and of one to me 
 Little remains. 
 
 As I kneel before God s altar of the heart I know 
 that if I had infinite time and infinite energy there 
 would be beauty and joy still to seek, and so as I 
 look about me in the world and see all the sin and 
 misery that is in it, it is my comfort to know that 
 the reason for it is that men are still living the 
 lives of the animals, and have not even dreamed of 
 the life that belongs to them as men. That is 
 something about which I feel very strongly myself, 
 that is part of my duty as a man who seeks wor 
 ship and Tightness to mark that difference in my 
 own life quite plainly." 
 
 Mr. Howard paused for a moment, and Helen said 
 very earnestly, "I wish that you would tell me about 
 that." 
 
 "I consider it my duty," the other replied, "to 
 keep all the external circumstances of my life as 
 simple and as humble as I should have to if I were 
 quite poor. If I were not physically unable, I 
 should feel that I ought to do for my own self all 
 that I needed to have done, for I think that if it is 
 necessary that others should be degraded to menial 
 service in order that my soul might be beautiful 
 and true, then life is bad at the heart of it, and I 
 want none of its truth and beauty. I do not have 
 to look into my heart very long, Miss Davis, to dis 
 cover that what I am seeking in life is something 
 
 266 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 that no millions of money ran buy me; and when I 
 am face to face with the sternness of what 1 call 
 that spiritual fact, I see that tine houses and all 
 the rest are a foolish kind of toy, and wonder that 
 any man should think that he can please me by 
 giving the labor of his soul to making them. It is 
 much the same thing as I feel, for instance, when I 
 go to hear a master of music, and find that he has 
 spent his hours in torturing himself and his fingers 
 in order to give me an acrobatic exhibition, when 
 all the time what I wish him to do, and what his 
 genius gave him power to do, was to find the magic 
 word that should set free the slumbering demon of 
 my soul. So I think that a man who wishes to grow 
 by sympathy and worship should do without wealth, 
 if only because it is so trivial; but of course I have 
 left unmentioned what is the great reason for a 
 self-denying life, the reason that lies at the heart 
 of the matter, and that includes all the others in 
 it, that he who lives by prayer and joy makes all 
 men richer, but he who takes more than his bare 
 necessity of the wealth of the body must know that 
 he robs his brother when he does it. The things of 
 the soul are everywhere, but wealth stands for the 
 toil and suffering of human beings, and thousands 
 must starve and die so that one rich man may live 
 at ease. That is no fine rhetoric that I am in 
 dulging in, but a very deep and earnest conviction 
 of my soul; first of all facts of morality stands the 
 law 5 that the life of man is labor, and that he 
 who chooses to live otherwise is a dastard. He may 
 chase the phantom of happiness all his days and not 
 find it, and yet never guess the reason, that joy is 
 
 267 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 a melody of the heart, and that he is playing upon 
 an instrument that is out of tune. Few people 
 choose to think of that at all, but I cannot afford 
 ever to forget it, for my task is to live the artist s 
 life, to dwell close to the heart of things; it is some 
 thing that I simply cannot understand how any 
 man who pretends to do that can know of the suf 
 fering and starving that is in the world, and can 
 feel that he who has God s temple of the soul for 
 his dwelling, has right to more of the pleasures of 
 earth than the plainest food and shelter and what 
 tools of his art he requires. If it is otherwise it 
 can only be because he is no artist at all, no lover 
 of life, but only a tradesman under another name, 
 using God s high gift to get for himself what he 
 can, and thinking of his sympathy and feeling as 
 things that he puts on when he goes to work, and 
 when he is sure that they will cost him no trouble." 
 
 Mr. Howard had been speaking very slowly, and 
 in a deep and earnest voice; he paused for a mo 
 ment, and then added with a slight smile, "I have 
 been answering your question without thinking 
 about it, Miss Davis, for I have told you all that 
 there is to tell about my life." 
 
 Helen did not answer, but sat for a long time 
 gazing at him and thinking very deeply; then she 
 said to him, her voice shaking slightly: "You have 
 answered only half of my question, Mr. Howard; I 
 want you to tell me what a woman can do to bring 
 those high things into her life to keep her soul 
 humble and strong. I do not think that I have youi 
 courage and self-reliance." 
 
 The man s voice dropped lower as he answered 
 
 268 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her, "Suppose that you were to find this friend of 
 yours that knows you so well, and loves you so 
 truly; do you not think that there might be a chance 
 for you to win this prize of life that I speak of?" 
 Helen did not reply, but sat with her eyes still fixed 
 upon the other s countenance; as he went on, his 
 deep, musical voice held them there by a spell. 
 
 "Miss Davis," he said, "a man does not live very 
 long in the kingdom of the soul before there comes 
 to be one thing that he loves more than anything 
 else that life can offer; that thing islove. For love 
 is the great gateway into the spiritual life, the 
 stage of life s journey when human beings are un 
 selfish and true to their hearts, if ever the power 
 of unselfishness and truth lies in them. As for man, 
 he has many battles to fight and much of himself to 
 kill before the great prizes of the soul can be his; 
 but the true woman has but one glory and one duty 
 in life, and sacredness and beauty are hers by the 
 free gift of God. If she be a true woman, when her 
 one great passion takes its hold upon her it carries 
 all her being with it, and she gives herself and all 
 that she has. Because I believe in unselfishness and 
 know that love is the essence of things, I find in all 
 the world nothing more beautiful than that, and 
 think that she has no other task in life, except to 
 see that the self which she gives is her best and 
 highest, and to hold to the thought of the sacred- 
 ness of what she is doing. For love is the soul s 
 great act of worship, and the heart s great awaken 
 ing to life. If the man be selfish and a seeker of 
 pleasure, what I say of love and woman is not for 
 him; but if he be one who seeks to worship, to 
 
 269 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 rouse the soul within him to its vision of the beauty 
 and preciousness of life, then he must know that 
 this is the great chance that Nature gives him, 
 that no effort of his own will ever carry him so far 
 towards what he seeks. The woman who gives her 
 self to him he takes for his own with awe and 
 trembling, knowing that the glory which he reads 
 in her eyes is the very presence of the spirit of life; 
 and because she stands for this precious thing to 
 him he seeks her love more than anything else upon 
 earth, feeling that if he has it he has everything, 
 and if he has it not, he has nothing. He cherishes 
 the woman as before he cherished what was best in 
 his own soul; he chooses all fair and noble actions 
 that may bring him still more of her love; all else 
 that life has for him he lays as an offering at the 
 shrine of her heart, all his joy and all his care, and 
 asks but love in return; and because the giving of 
 love is the woman s joy and the perfectness of her 
 sacrifice, her glory, they come to forget themselves 
 in each other s being, and to live their lives in each 
 other s hearts. The joy that each cares for is no 
 longer his own joy, but the other s; and so they 
 come to stand for the sacredness of God to each 
 other, and for perpetual inspiration. By and by, 
 perhaps, from long dwelling out of themselves and 
 feeding their hearts upon things spiritual, they 
 learn the deep and mystic religion of love, that is 
 the last lesson life has to teach; it is given to no 
 man to know what is the source of this mysterious 
 being of ours, but men who come near to it find it 
 so glorious that they die for it in joy; and the least 
 glimpse of it gives a man quite a new feeling about 
 
 270 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 a human heart. So at last it happens that the lov 
 ers read a fearful wonder in each other s eyes, and 
 give each other royal greeting, no longer for what 
 they are, but for that which they would like to be. 
 They come to worship together as they could never 
 have worshiped apart; and always that which they 
 worship and that in which they dwell, is what all 
 existence is seeking with so much pain, the sacred 
 presence of wonder that some call Truth, and some 
 Beauty, but all Love. When you ask me how un 
 selfishness is to be made yours in life, that is the 
 answer which I give you." 
 
 Mr. Howard s voice had dropped very low; as he 
 stopped Helen was trembling within herself. She 
 was drinking still more from the bottomless cup of 
 her humiliation and remorse, for she was still 
 haunted by the specter of what she had done. The 
 man went on after an interval of silence. 
 
 "I think there is no one," he said, "whom these 
 things touch more than the man w r ho would live the 
 life of art that I have talked of before; for the 
 artist seeks experience above all things, seeks it 
 not only for himself but for his race. And it must 
 come from his own heart; no one can drive him to 
 his task. All artists tell that the great source of 
 their power is love; and the wisest of them makes 
 of his love an art-work, as he makes an art- work 
 of his life. He counts his power of loving most 
 sacred of all his powers, and guards it from harm 
 as he guards his life itself; he gives all his soul to 
 the dreaming of that dream, and lays all his 
 prayer before it; and when he meets with the 
 maiden who will honor such effort, he forgets every- 
 
 271 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 thing else in his life, and gives her all his heart, and 
 studies to worship her by years of noble deeds. 7 
 For a woman who loves love, the heart of such a 
 man is a lifetime s treasure; for his passion is of the 
 soul, and does not die; and all that he has done has 
 been really but a training of himself for that great 
 consecration. If he be a true artist, all his days 
 have been spent in learning to wrestle with him 
 self, to rouse himself and master his own heart; 
 until at last his very being has become a prayer, 
 and his soul like a great storm of wind that sweeps 
 everything away in its arms. Perhaps that hunger 
 has possessed him so that he never even wakens 
 in the dead of night without finding it with him 
 in all its strength; it rouses him in the morning 
 with a song, and when midnight comes and he is 
 weary, it is a benediction and a hand upon his brow. 
 All the time, because he has a man s heart and 
 knows of his life s great glory, his longing turns to 
 a dream of love, to a vision of the flying perfect 
 for which all his life is a search. There is a maiden 
 who dwells in all the music that he hears, and who 
 calls to him in the sunrise, and flings wide the 
 flowers upon the meadows; she treads before him 
 on the moonlit waters and strews them with show 
 ers of fire. If his soul be only strong enough, per 
 haps he waits long years for that perfect woman, 
 that woman who loves not herself, but loves love; 
 and all the time the yearning of his heart is grow 
 ing, so that those who gaze at him wonder why his 
 eyes are dark and sunken. He knows that his heart 
 is a treasure-house which he himself cannot ex 
 plore, and that in all the world he seeks nothing 
 
 272 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 but some woman before whom he might fling wide 
 its doors." 
 
 Helen had been leaning on the table, holding her 
 hands in front of her; towards the end they were 
 trembling so much that she took them away and 
 clasped them in her lap. When he ceased her eyes 
 were lowered; she could not see how his were fixed 
 upon her, but she knew that her bosom was heaving 
 painfully, and that there were hot tears upon her 
 cheeks. He added slowly: "I have told you all 
 that I think about life, my dear friend, and all that 
 I think about love; so I think I have told you all 
 that I know. 1 And Helen lifted her eyes to his and 
 gazed at him through her tears. 
 
 "You tell me of such things?" she asked. "You 
 give such advice to me!" 
 
 "Yes," said the other, gently, "why not to you?" 
 
 "Mr. Howard," Helen answered, "do you not know 
 what I have done, and how I must feel while I listen 
 to you? It is good that I should hear such things, 
 because I ought to suffer; but when I asked you for 
 your advice I wished for something hard and stern 
 to do, before I dared ever think of love, or feel my 
 self right again." 
 
 Mr. Howard sat watching her for a moment in 
 silence, and then he answered gently, "I do not 
 think, my dear friend, that it is our duty as strug 
 gling mortals to feel ourselves right at all; I ;im 
 not even sure that we ought to care about our right- 
 ness in the least. For God has put high and beauti 
 ful things in the world, things that call for all our 
 attention; and I am sure that we are never so close 
 to Tightness as when we give all our devotion to 
 
 8 273 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 them and cease quite utterly to think about our 
 selves. And besides that, the love that I speak of 
 is not easy to give, Miss Davis. It is easy to give 
 up one s self in the first glow of feeling; but to for 
 get one s self entirely, and one s comfort and happi 
 ness in all the little things of life; to consecrate 
 one s self and all that one has to a lifetime of 
 patience and self-abnegation; and to seek no re 
 ward and ask for no happiness but love, do you 
 not think that such things would cost one pain and 
 bring a good conscience at last?" 
 
 Helen s voice was very low as she answered, 
 "Perhaps, at last." Then she sat very still, and 
 finally raised her deep, earnest eyes and leaned for 
 ward and gazed straight into her companion s. 
 "Mr. Howard," she said, "you must know that you 
 are my conscience; and it is the memory of your 
 words that causes me all my suffering. And now 
 tell me one thing; suppose I were to say to you that 
 I could beg upon my knees for a chance to earn 
 such a life as that; and suppose I should ever come 
 really to love someone, and should give up every 
 thing to win such a treasure, do you think that I 
 could clear my soul from what I have done, and win 
 Tightness for mine? Do you think that you that 
 you could ever forget that I was the woman who 
 had wished to sell her love for money?" 
 
 Mr. Howard answered softly, "Yes, I think so." 
 "But are you sure of it?" Helen asked; and when 
 she had received the same reply she drew a long 
 breath, and a wonderful expression of relief came 
 upon her face; all her being seemed to rise, as if 
 all in an instant she had flung away the burden of 
 
 274 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 shame and fear that had been crushing her soul. 
 She sat gazing at the other with a strange look in 
 her eyes, and then she sank down and buried her 
 head in her arms upon the table. 
 
 And fully a minute passed thus without a sound. 
 Helen was just lifting her head again, and Mr. How 
 ard was about to speak, when an unexpected in 
 terruption caused him to stop. The front door was 
 opened, and as Helen turned with a start the 
 servant came and stood in the doorway. 
 
 "What is it, Elizabeth?" Helen asked in a faint 
 voice. 
 
 "I have just been to the post office," the woman 
 answered; "here is a letter for you." 
 
 "Very well," Helen answered; "give it to me." 
 
 And she took it and put it on the table in front of 
 her. Then she waited until the servant was gone, 
 and in the meantime, half mechanically, turned her 
 eyes upon the envelope. Suddenly the man saw her 
 give a violent start and turn very pale; she snatched 
 up the letter and sprang to her feet, and stood sup 
 porting herself by the chair, her hand shaking, and 
 her breath coming in gasps. 
 
 "What is it?" Mr. Howard cried. 
 
 Helen s voice was hoarse and choking as she 
 answered him: "It is from Arthur!" As he started 
 and half rose from his chair the girl tore open the 
 letter and unfolded the contents, glancing at it once 
 very swiftly, her eyes flying from line to line; the 
 next instant she let it fall to the floor with a cry 
 and clutched with her hands at her bosom. She 
 tried to speak, but she was choking with her emo 
 tion; only her companion saw that her face was 
 
 275 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 transfigured with delight; and then suddenly she 
 sank down upon the sofa beside her, her form 
 shaken with hysterical laughter and sobbing. 
 
 Mr. Howard had risen from his chair in wonder; 
 but before he could take a step toward her he heard 
 someone in the hall, and Mr. Davis rushed into the 
 room. "Helen, Helen!" he exclaimed, "what is the 
 matter?" and sank down upon his knees beside her; 
 the girl raised her head and then flung herself into 
 his arms, exclaining incoherently: "Oh, Daddy, I 
 am free! Oh, oh can you believe it I am free!" 
 
 Long after her first ecstasy had passed Helen still 
 lay with her head buried in her father s bosom, 
 trembling and weeping and repeating half as if in 
 a dream that last wonderful word, "Free!" Mean 
 while Mr. Davis had bent down and picked up the 
 paper to glance over it. 
 
 Most certainly Arthur would have wondered had 
 he seen the effect of that letter upon Helen; for he 
 wrote to her with bitter scorn, and told her that he 
 had torn his love for her from his heart, and made 
 himself master of his own life again. He bid her go 
 on in the course she had chosen, for a day or two 
 had been enough for him to find the end of her 
 power over him, and of his care for her; and he 
 added that he wrote to her only that she might not 
 please herself with the thought of having wrecked 
 him, and that he was going far away to begin his 
 life again. 
 
 The words brought many emotions to Mr. Davis, 
 and suggested many doubts; but to Helen they 
 brought but one thought. She still clung to her 
 father, sobbing like a child and muttering the one 
 
 276 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 word "Free! * When at last the fit had vented itself 
 and she looked up again, she seemed to Mr. Howard 
 more like a girl than she ever had before; and she 
 wiped away her tears laughingly, and smoothed 
 back her hair, and was wonderfully beautiful in 
 her emotion. She introduced Mr. Howard to her 
 father, and begged him to excuse her for her lack 
 of self-control. U I could not help it," she said, "for 
 oh, I am so happy so happy!" And she leaned her 
 head upon her father s shoulder again and gazed up 
 into his face. "Daddy dear," she said, "and are you 
 not happy too?" 
 
 "My dear," Mr Davis protested, "of course I am 
 glad to hear that Arthur is himself again. But 
 that is not finding him, and I fear " 
 
 "Oh, oh, please don t!" Helen cried, the fright 
 ened look coming back upon her face in a flash 
 "Oh please do not tell me that no, no! Do let me 
 be happy just a little while think of it, how 
 wretched I have been ! And now to know he is safe ! 
 Oh, please, Daddy!" And the tears had welled up 
 in Helen s eyes again. She turned quickly to Mr. 
 Howard, her voice trembling. "Tell me that I may 
 be happy," she exclaimed. "You know all about it, 
 Mr. Howard. Is it not right that I should be happy 
 just a little?" 
 
 As her friend answered her gently that he 
 thought it was, she sat looking at him for a mo 
 ment, and then the cloud passed over. She brushed 
 away her tears, and put her arms about her father 
 again. 
 
 "I cannot help it," she went on, quickly, "I must 
 be happy whether I want to or not! You must not 
 
 277 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 mind anything I do! For oh, think what it means 
 to have been so wretched, so crushed and so fright 
 ened! I thought that all my life was to be like that, 
 that I could never sing again, because Arthur was 
 ruined. Nobody will ever know how I felt, how 
 many tears I shed; and now think what it means to 
 be free to be free, oh, free ! And to be able to be 
 good once more! I should go mad if I thought 
 about it!" 
 
 Helen had risen as she spoke, and she spread out 
 her arms and flung back her head and drank in a 
 deep breath of joy. She began singing, half to her 
 self; and then as that brought a sudden idea into 
 her mind she ran to the window and shut it quickly. 
 "I will sing you my hymn!" she laughed, "that is 
 the way to be happy!" 
 
 And she went to the piano; in a minute more she 
 had begun the chorus she had sung to Arthur, 
 "Hail thee Joy, from Heaven descending!" The 
 flood of emotion that was pent up within her poured 
 itself out in the wild torrent of music, and Helen 
 seemed happy enough to make up for all the weeks 
 of suffering. As she swept herself on she proved 
 what she had said, that she would go mad if she 
 thought much about her release; and Mr. Howard 
 and her father sat gazing at her in wonder. When 
 she stopped she was quite exhausted and quite 
 dazed, and came and buried her head in her father s 
 arms, and sat waiting until the heaving of her 
 bosom had subsided, and she was calm once more, 
 in the meantime murmuring faintly to herself again 
 and again that she was happy and that she was free. 
 
 When she looked up and brushed away her 
 
 278 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 tangled hair again, perhaps she thought that her 
 conduct was not very conventional, for she begged 
 Mr. Howard s pardon once more, promising to be 
 more orderly by and by. Then she added, laughing, 
 "It is good that you should see me happy, though, 
 because I have always troubled you with my 
 egotisms before." She went on talking merrily, 
 until suddenly she sprang up and said, "I shall 
 have to sing again if I do not run away, so I am 
 going upstairs to make myself look respectable!" 
 And with that she danced out of the room, waking 
 the echoes of the house with her caroling: 
 
 "Merrily, merrily, shall T live now, 
 Under the blossom that hangs on the bough ! " 
 
 Lus - tig im Leid, sing ich von Lieb - e ! 
 
 279 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 "Some one whom I can court 
 
 With no great change of manner, 
 Still holding reason s fort, 
 Tho waving fancy s banner." 
 
 SEVERAL weeks had passed since Helen had re 
 ceived the letter from Arthur, the girl having in 
 the meantime settled quietly down at Oakdale She 
 had seen few of her friends excepting Mr. Howard, 
 who had come out often from the city. 
 
 She was expecting a visit from him one bright 
 afternoon, and was standing by one of the pillars 
 of the vine-covered porch, gazing up at the blue sky 
 above her and waiting to hear the whistle of the 
 train. When she saw her friend from the distance 
 she waved her hand to him and went to meet him, 
 laughing, "I am going to take you out to see my 
 stream and my bobolink to-day. You have not seen 
 our country yet, you know." 
 
 The girl seemed to Mr. Howard more beautiful 
 that afternoon than he had ever known her before; 
 for she was dressed all in white and there was the 
 old spring in her step, and the old joy in her heart. 
 When they had passed out of the village, she found 
 the sky so very blue, and the clouds so very white, 
 and the woods and meadows so very green, that she 
 was radiantly happy and feared that she would 
 have to sing. And she laughed: 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Away, away from men and towns, 
 To the wild wood and the downs!" 
 
 And then interrupted herself to say, "You must not 
 care, Mr. Howard, if I chatter away and do all the 
 talking. It has been a long time since I have paid 
 a visit to my friends out here, and they will all be 
 here to welcome me." 
 
 Even as Helen spoke she looked up, and there was 
 the bobolink flying over her head and pouring out 
 his song; also the merry breeze was dancing over 
 the meadows, and everything about her was in 
 motion. 
 
 "Do you know," she told her companion, "I think 
 most of the happiness of my life has been out in 
 these fields; I don t know what made me so fond 
 of the country, but even when I was a very little 
 thing, whenever I learned a new song I would come 
 out here and sing it. Those were times when I 
 had nothing to do but be happy, you know, and I 
 never thought about anything else. It has always 
 been so easy for me to be happy, I don t know why. 
 There is a fountain of joy in my heart that wells up 
 whether I want it to or not, so that I can always 
 be as merry as I choose. I am afraid that is very 
 selfish, isn t it, Mr. Howard? I am trying to be 
 right now, you know." 
 
 "You may consider you are being merry for my 
 sake at present," said the man with a laugh. "It is 
 not always so easy for me to be joyful." 
 
 "Very well, then," smiled Helen; u l only wish 
 that you had brought your violin along. For you 
 see I always think of these things of Nature with 
 music; when I was little they were all creatures 
 
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KING MIDAS 
 
 that danced with me. These winds that are so lively 
 were funny little fairy-men, and you could see all 
 the flowers shake as they swept over them; when 
 ever I heard any music that was quick and bright 
 I always used to fancy that some of them had hold 
 of my hands and were teaching me to run. I never 
 thought about asking why, but I used to find that 
 very exciting. And then there was my streamlet 
 he s just ahead here past the bushes and I used to 
 like him best of all. For he was a very beautiful 
 youth, with a crown of flowers upon his head; there 
 was a wonderful light in his eyes, and his voice was 
 very strong and clear, and his step very swift, so 
 it was quite wonderful when you danced with him. 
 For he was the lord of all the rest, and everything 
 around you got into motion then; there was never 
 any stopping, for you know the streamlet always 
 goes faster and faster, and gets more and more joy 
 ous, until you cannot bear it any more and have to 
 give up. We shall have to play the Kreutzer Sonata 
 some time, Mr. Howard/ 
 
 "I was thinking of that," said the other, smiling. 
 
 "I think it would be interesting to know what 
 people imagine when they listen to music," went 
 on Helen. "I have all sorts of queer fancies for 
 myself; whenever it gets too exciting there is al 
 ways one last resource, you can fly away to the top 
 of the nearest mountain. I don t know just why 
 that is, but perhaps it s because you can see so 
 much from there, or because there are so many 
 winds; anyway, there is a dance a wonderfully 
 thrilling thing, if only the composer knows how to 
 manage it. There is someone who dances with me 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 I never saw his face, but he s always there; and 
 everything around you is flying fast, and there 
 comes surge after surge of the music and sweeps 
 you on, perhaps some of those wild runs on the 
 violins that are just as if the wind took you up in 
 its arms and whirled you away in the air! That 
 is a most tremendous experience when it happens, 
 because then you go quite beside yourself and you 
 see that all the world is alive and full of power; the 
 great things of the forest begin to stir too, the 
 trees and the strange shapes in the clouds, and all 
 the world is suddenly gone mad with motion; and 
 so by the time you come to the last chords your 
 hands are clenched and you can hardly breathe, 
 and you feel that all your soul is throbbing!" 
 
 Helen was getting quite excited then, just over 
 her own enthusiasm; perhaps it was because the 
 wind was blowing about her. "Is that the way 
 music does with you?" she laughed, as she stopped. 
 
 "Sometimes," said Mr. Howard, smiling in turn; 
 "but then again while all my soul is throbbing 
 I feel my neighbor reaching to put on her wraps, 
 and that brings me down from the mountains so 
 quickly that it is painful; afterwards you go out 
 side among the cabs and cable-cars, and make sad 
 discoveries about life." 
 
 "You are a pessimist," said the girl. 
 
 "Possibly," responded the other, "but try to keep 
 your fountain of joy a while. Miss Davis. There are 
 disagreeable things in life to be done, and some 
 suffering to be borne, and sometimes the fountain 
 dries up very quickly indeed." 
 
 Helen was much more ready to look serious than 
 
 283 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 she would have been a month before; she asked in 
 a different tone, "You think that must always 
 happen?" 
 
 "Not quite always/ was the reply; "there are a 
 few w r ho manage to keep it, but it means a great 
 deal of effort. Perhaps you never took your own 
 happiness so seriously," he ad*^- 1 T7lth :. smile. 
 
 "No," said Helen, "I never made much effort that 
 I know of." 
 
 "Some day perhaps you will have to," replied the 
 other, "and then you will think of the creatures of 
 nature as I do, not simply as rejoicing, but as fight 
 ing the same battle and daring the same pain as 
 you." 
 
 The girl thought for a moment, and then asked: 
 "Do you really believe that as a fact?" 
 
 "I believe something," was the answer, "that 
 makes me think when I go among men and see 
 their dullness, that Nature is flinging wide her glory 
 in helpless appeal to them; and that it is a dreadful 
 accident that they have no eyes and she no voice." 
 He paused for a moment and then added, smiling, 
 "It would take metaphysics to explain that; and 
 meanwhile we were talking about your precious 
 fountain of joy." 
 
 "I should think," answered Helen, thoughtfully, 
 "that it would be much better to earn one s happi 
 ness." 
 
 "Perhaps after you had tried it a while you would 
 not think so," replied her companion; "that is the 
 artist s life, you know, and in practice it is gener 
 ally a very dreadful life. Keal effort is very hard 
 to make; and there is always a new possibility to 
 
 284 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 lure the artist, so that his life is always restless 
 and a cruel defeat." 
 
 "It is such a life that you have lived, Mr. 
 Howard?" asked Helen, gazing at him. 
 
 "There are compensations," he replied, smiling 
 slightly, "or there would be no artists. There comes 
 to each one who persists some hour of victory, some 
 hour when he catches the tide of his being at the 
 flood, and when he finds himself master of all that 
 his soul contains, and takes a kind of fierce delight 
 in sweeping himself on and in breaking through 
 everything that stands in his way. You made me 
 think of such things by what you said of your joy 
 in music; only perhaps the artist discovers that 
 not only the streamlets and the winds have motion 
 and meaning, but that the planets also have a word 
 for his soul; and his own being comes suddenly to 
 seem to him a power which it frightens him to know 
 of, and he sees the genius of life as a spirit with 
 eyes of flame. It lifts him from his feet and drags 
 him away, and the task of his soul takes the form 
 of something that he could cry out to escape. He 
 has fought his way into the depths of being at last, 
 and he stands alone in all his littleness on the shore 
 of an ocean whose w r aves are centuries and then 
 even while he is wondering and full of fear, his 
 power begins to die within him and to go he knows 
 not how; and when he looks at himself again he 
 is like a man who has had a dream, and wakened 
 with only the trembling left; except that he knows 
 it was no dream but a fiery reality, and that the 
 memory of it will cast a shadow over all the rest 
 of his days and make them seem trivial and mean- 
 
 285 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ingless. No one knows how many years he may 
 spend in seeking and never find that lost glory 
 again." 
 
 Mr. Howard had been speaking very intensely, 
 and when he stopped Helen did not reply at once, 
 but continued gazing at him. "What is the use of 
 such moments," she asked at last, "if they only 
 make one wretched?" 
 
 "At least one may keep the memory," he replied 
 with a smile, "and that gives him a standard of 
 reality. He learns to be humble, and learns how 
 to judge men and men s glory, and the wonderful 
 things of men s world, so that while they are the 
 most self-occupied and self-delighted creatures liv 
 ing he may see them as dumb cattle that are graz 
 ing while the sunrise is firing the hilltops." 
 
 "You have had such moments yourself?" asked 
 Helen. 
 
 "A long time ago," said the other, smiling at the 
 seriousness with which she spoke. "When you 
 were telling me about your musical fancies you 
 made me remember how once when I was young I 
 climbed a high hill and had an adventure with a 
 wind that was very swift and eager. At first I 
 recollect I tried not to heed it, because I had been 
 dull and idle and unhappy; but I found that I could 
 not be very long in the presence of so much life 
 without being made ashamed, and that brave wind 
 storm put me through a course of repentance of the 
 very sternest kind before it let me go. I tried just 
 to promise that I would be more wide-awake and 
 more true, but it paid not the least attention to 
 that; and it would hear no arguments as to the 
 
 286 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 consequences, it raiw again and again with a 
 furious burst, and swept me away every time I 
 tried to think; it declared that I had been putting 
 off the task of living my life long enough, and that 
 I was to attend to it then and there. And when I 
 gave myself up as demanded, it had not the least 
 mercy upon me, and each time that I protested that 
 1 was at the end of my power it simply whirled 
 me away again like a mad thing. When at last I 
 came down from the hillside I had quite a new idea 
 of what living meant, and I have been more respect 
 ful before the winds and other people of genius ever 
 since." 
 
 Helen felt very much at home in that merry 
 phantasy of her companion s, but she did not say 
 anything; after a moment s waiting the other went 
 on to tell her of something else that pleased her 
 no less. "I remember," he said, "how as I came 
 down I chanced upon a very wonderful sight, one 
 which made an impression upon me that I have not 
 forgotten. It was a thicket of wild roses; and I 
 have always dreamed that the wild rose was a 
 creature of the wind and fire, but I never knew so 
 much about it before. After that day I have come 
 seriously to believe it would be best if we prudent 
 and timid creatures, who neither dare nor care 
 anything for the sake of beauty, if we simply did 
 not ever see the wild rose. For it lives only for a 
 day or two, Miss Davis, and yet, as I discovered 
 then, we may live all our years and never get one 
 such burst of glory, one such instant of exultation 
 and faith as that. And also I seriously think that 
 among men and all the wonderful works of men 
 
 287 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 there is nothing so beautiful and so precious as 
 that little flower that none of them heeds." 
 
 Mr. Howard glanced at the girl suddenly; she had 
 half stopped in her walk, and she was gazing at 
 him with a very eager look in her bright eyes. 
 "What is it?" he asked her, and Helen exclaimed, 
 "Oh, I am so glad you mentioned it! I had forgot 
 ten, actually forgotten!" 
 
 As her friend looked puzzled, the girl went on 
 with her merriest laugh, "I must tell you all about 
 it, and we shall be happy once more; for you turn 
 down this path towards the woods, and then you 
 must go very quietly and hold your breath, and 
 prepare yourself just as if you were going into a 
 great cathedral; for you want all your heart to be 
 full of expectation and joy! It is for only about one 
 week in the year that you may see this great sight, 
 and the excitement of the first rapture is best of all. 
 It would be so dreadful if you were not reverent; 
 you must fancy that you are coming to hear a 
 wonderful musician, and you know that he ll play 
 for you, but you don t know just when. That s what 
 I used to pretend, and I used to come every day for 
 a week or two, and very early in the morning, 
 when the dew was still everywhere and the winds 
 were still gay. Several times you go back home 
 disappointed, but that only makes you more eager 
 for the next time; and when you do find them it 
 is wonderful oh, most wonderful! For there is 
 a whole hedge of them along the edge of the wood; 
 and you may be just as madly happy as you choose 
 and never be half happy enough, because they are 
 so beautiful!" 
 
 288 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "These are wild roses?" asked the other, smiling. 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, "and oh, think how many days 
 I have forgotten them, and they may have bloomed! 
 And for three years I have not been here, and I 
 was thinking about it all the way over on the 
 steamer." They had come to the path that turned 
 off to the woods, and Helen led her companion 
 down it, still prattling away in the meantime; 
 when they came to the edge of the woods she began 
 walking upon tip toe, and put her fingers upon her 
 lips in fun. Then suddenly she gave a cry of de 
 light, for there were the roses for a fact, a whole 
 hedge of them as she had said, glowing in the bright 
 sun and making a wonderful vision. 
 
 The two stopped and stood gazing at them, the 
 girl s whole soul dancing within her. "Oh do you 
 know," she cried suddenly, "I think that I could get 
 drunk with just looking at roses! There is a 
 strange kind of excitement that comes over one, 
 from drinking in the sight of their rich red, and 
 their gracefulness and perfume; it makes all my 
 blood begin to flow faster, and I quite forget every 
 thing else." Helen stood for a few moments longer 
 with her countenance of joy; afterwards she went 
 towards the flowers and knelt down in front of 
 them, choosing a bud that was very perfect. "I 
 always allow myself just one," she said, "just one 
 for love," and then she bent over it, whispering 
 softly: 
 
 "Hush, tis the lullaby time is singing, 
 Hush and heed not, for all things pass." 
 
 She plucked it and held it up before her, while the 
 wind came up behind her and tossed it about, and 
 
 19 289 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 tossed her skirts; Helen, radiant with laughter, 
 glanced at her companion, saying gaily, "You must 
 hold it very lightly, just like this, you know, with 
 one finger and a thumb; and then you may toss it 
 before you and lose yourself in its perfectness, 
 until it makes all your soul feel gracious. Do you 
 know, Mr. Howard, I think one could not live with 
 the roses very long without becoming beautiful?" 
 
 "That was what Plato thought," said the other 
 with a smile, "and many other wise people." 
 
 "I only wish that they might bloom forever," 
 said the girl, "I should try it." 
 
 Her companion had been lost in watching her, and 
 now as she paused he said: "Sometimes I have been 
 happy with the roses, too, Miss Davis. Here is some 
 music for your flower." She gazed at him eagerly, 
 and he recited, half laughingly: 
 
 "Wild rose, wild rose, sing me thy song, 
 
 Come, let us sing it together! 
 I hear the silver streamlet call 
 
 From his home in the dewy heather. 
 
 "Let us sing the wild dance with the mountain breeze, 
 
 The rush of the mountain rain, 
 And the passionate clasp of the glowing sun 
 When the clouds are rent again. 
 
 "They tell us the time for the song is short, 
 
 That the wings of joy are fleet; 
 But the soul of the rose has bid me sing 
 That oh, while it lasts tis sweet!" 
 
 Afterwards Helen stood for a moment in silence; 
 then a happy idea came to her mind, and she turned 
 towards the hedge of roses once more and threw 
 back her head upon the wind and took a deep 
 breath and began singing a very beautiful melody. 
 
 290 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 As it swelled out Helen s joy increased until her 
 face was alight with laughter, and very wonderful 
 to see; she stood with the rose tossing in one of her 
 hands, and with the other pressed upon her bosom, 
 "singing of summer in full-throated ease." One 
 might have been sure that the roses knew what 
 she was saying, and that all about her loved her 
 for her song. 
 
 Yet the girl had just heard that the wings of joy 
 are fleet; and she was destined to find even then 
 that it was true. For when she stopped she turned 
 to her companion with a happy smile and said, 
 "Do you know what that is that I was singing? 1 
 When he said "No," she went on, "It is some wild- 
 rose music that somebody made for me, I think. 
 It is in the same book as the Water Lily that I 
 played you." And then in a flash the fearful mem 
 ory of that evening came over the girl, and made 
 her start back; for a moment she stood gazing at 
 her friend, breathing very hard, and then she low 
 ered her eyes and whispered faintly to herself, 
 "And it was not a month ago!" 
 
 There was a long silence after that, and when 
 Helen looked up again the joy was gone out of her 
 face, and she was the same frightened soul as be 
 fore. Her lips were trembling a little as she said, 
 "Mr. Howard, I feel somehow that I have no right 
 to be quite happy, for I have done nothing to make 
 
 291 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 myself good." Then, thinking of her friend, she 
 added, "I am spoiling your joy in the roses! Can 
 you forgive me for that?" As he answered that 
 he could, Helen turned away and said, "Let us go 
 into the woods, because I do not like to see them 
 any more just now." 
 
 They passed beneath the deep shadows of the 
 trees, and Helen led Mr. Howard to the spring 
 where she had been with Arthur. She sat down 
 upon the seat, and then there was a long silence, 
 the girl gazing steadfastly in front of her; she was 
 thinking of the last time she had been there, and 
 how it was likely that the pale, wan look must still 
 be upon Arthur s face. Mr. Howard perhaps divined 
 her thought, for he watched her for a long time 
 without speaking a word, and then at last he said 
 gently, as if to divert her attention, "Miss Davis, 
 I think that you are not the first one whom the 
 sight of the wild rose has made unhappy." 
 
 Helen turned and looked at him, and he gazed 
 gravely into her eyes. For at least a minute he 
 said nothing; when he went on his voice was much 
 changed, and Helen knew not what to expect "Miss 
 Davis," he said, "God has given to the wild rose a 
 very wonderful power of beauty and joy; and per 
 haps the man who looks at it has been dreaming 
 all his life that somewhere he too might find such 
 precious things and have them for his own. When 
 he sees the flower there comes to him the fearful 
 realization that with all the effort of his soul he 
 has never won the glory which the wild rose wears 
 by Heaven s free gift; and that perhaps in his lone 
 liness and weakness he has even forgotten all 
 
 292 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 about such high perfection. So there rises within 
 him a yearning of all his being to forget his misery 
 and his struggling, and to lay all his worship and 
 all his care before the flower that is so sweet; he 
 is afraid of his own sin and his own baseness, and 
 now suddenly he finds a way of escape, that he 
 will live no longer for himself and his own happi 
 ness, but that his joy shall be the rose s joy, and 
 all his life the rose s life. Do you think, my dear 
 friend, that that might please the flower?" 
 
 "Yes," said Helen wonderingly, "it would be 
 beautiful, if one could do it." 
 
 The other spoke more gently still as he answered 
 her, his voice trembling slightly: "And do you not 
 know, Miss Davis, that God has made you a rose?" 
 
 The girl started visibly; she whispered, "You say 
 that to me, Mr. Howard? Why do you say that to 
 me?" 
 
 And he fixed his dark eyes upon her, his voice 
 very low as he responded: "I say it to you, be 
 cause I love you." 
 
 And Helen shrank back and stared at him; and 
 then as she saw his look her own dropped lower 
 and lower and the color mounted to her face. Mr. 
 Howard paused for a moment or two and then very 
 gently took one of her hands in his, and went on: 
 
 "Helen," he said, "you must let me call you 
 Helen listen to me a while, for I have something 
 to tell you. And since we both of us love the roses 
 so much, perhaps it will be beautiful to speak of 
 them still. I want to tell you how the man who 
 loves the flower needs not to love it for his own 
 sake, but may love it for the flower s; how one who 
 
 293 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 really worships beauty, worships that which is not 
 himself, and the more he worships it the less he 
 thinks of himself. And Helen, you can never know 
 how hard a struggle my life has been, just to keep 
 before me something to love, how lonely a strug 
 gle it has been, and how sad. I can only tell you 
 that there was very little strength left, and very 
 little beauty, and that it was all I could do to re 
 member there was such a thing as joy in the 
 world, and that I had once possessed it. The music 
 that moved me and the music that I made was 
 never your wild-rose singing, but such yearning, 
 restless music as you heard in the garden. I can 
 not tell you how much I have loved that little piece 
 that I played then; perhaps it is my own sad heart 
 that finds such breathing passion in it, but I have 
 sent it out into the darkness of many a night, 
 dreaming that somewhere it might waken an echo. 
 For as long as the heart beats it never ceases to 
 hunger and to hope, and I felt that somewhere in 
 the world there must be left some living creature 
 that was beautiful and pure, and that might be 
 loved. So it was that when I saw you all my soul 
 was roused within me; you were the fairest of all 
 God s creatures that I had ever seen. That was 
 why I was so bitter at first, and that was why all 
 my heart went out to you when I saw your suffer 
 ing, and why it is to me the dearest memory of my 
 lifetime that I was able to help you. Afterwards 
 when I saw how true you were, I was happier than 
 I had ever dared hope to be again; for when I went 
 back to my lonely little home, it was no longer to 
 think about myself and my sorrow and my dullness, 
 
 294 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 but to think about you, to rejoice in your salva 
 tion, and to pray for you in your trouble, and to 
 wait for the day when I might see you again. And 
 so I knew that something had happened to me for 
 which I had yearned, oh so long and so painfully! 
 that my heart had been taken from me, and that 
 I was living in another life; J knew, dear Helen, 
 that I loved you. I said to myself long ago, before 
 you got Arthur s letter, that I would wait for the 
 chance to say this to you, to take your hand in mine 
 and say: Sweet girl, the law of my life has been 
 .that all my soul I must give to the best thing that 
 ever I know; and that thing is you. You must 
 know that I love you, and how I love you; that I 
 lay myself at your feet and ask to help you and 
 watch over you and strengthen you all that I may. 
 For your life is young and there is much to be hoped 
 for in it, and to my own poor self there is no longer 
 any duty that I owe. My heart is yours, and I ask 
 for nothing but that I may love you. Those were 
 the words that I first meant to say to you, Helen; 
 and to ask you if it pleased you that I should speak 
 to you thus." 
 
 Mr. Howard stopped, and after he had waited a 
 minute, the girl raised her eyes to his face. She 
 did not answer him, but she put out her other hand 
 and laid it very gently in his own. 
 
 There was a long silence before the man con 
 tinued; at last he said, "Dear Helen, that was what 
 I wished to say to you, and no more than that, be 
 cause I believed that I was old, and that my 
 heart was dying within me. But oh, when that let 
 ter came from Arthur, it was as if I heard the voice 
 
 295 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of my soul crying out to me that my life had just 
 begun, that I had still to love. As I came out here 
 into the forest with you to-day, my soul was full of 
 a wondrous thought, a thought that brought more 
 awe and rapture than words have power to tell; it 
 was that this precious maiden was not made to be 
 happy alone, but that some day she and all her being 
 would go out to someone, to someone who could win 
 her heart, who could love her and worship her as 
 she deserved. And my soul cried out to me that / 
 could worship you; the thought wakened in me a 
 wilder music than ever I had heard in my life be 
 fore. Here as I kneel before you and hold your 
 hands in mine, dear Helen, all my being cries out 
 to you to come to me; for in your sorrow your heart 
 has been laid bare to my sight, and I have seen only 
 sweetness and truth. To keep it, and serve it, and 
 feed it upon thoughts of beauty, would be all that I 
 could care for in life; and the thought of winning 
 you for mine, so that all your life I might cherish 
 you, is to me a joy which brings tears into my eyes. 
 Oh, dearest girl, I must live before you with that 
 prayer, and tell me what you will, I must still pray 
 it. Nor do I care how long you ask me to wait ; my 
 life has now but one desire, to love you in such a 
 way as best may please you, to love you as much 
 as you will let me. Helen, I have told all myself 
 to you, and here as we gaze into each other s eyes 
 our souls are bare to each other. As I say those 
 words they bring to me a thought that sweeps away 
 all my being, that perhaps the great sorrow you 
 have known has chastened your heart so that you 
 too wish to forget yourself, and worship at the 
 
 296 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 shrine of love; I see you trembling, and I think that 
 perhaps it may be that, and that it needs only a word 
 of mine to bring your soul to me! What that 
 thought is I cannot tell you; but oh, it has been the 
 dream of my life, it has been the thing for which 1 
 have lived, and for which I was dying. If I could 
 win you for mine, Helen, for mine and take you 
 away with me, away from all else but love! The 
 thought of it chokes me, and fills me with mighty 
 anguish of yearning; and my soul burns for you, 
 and I stretch out my arms to you; and I cry out to 
 you that the happiness of my life is in your hands 
 that I love you oh, that I love you!" 
 
 As the man had been speaking he had sunk 
 down before Helen, still clasping her hands in his 
 own. A great trembling had seized upon the girl 
 and her bosom was rising and falling swiftly; but 
 she mastered herself with a desperate effort and 
 looked up, staring at him. "You tell me that you 
 love me," she gasped, "you tell me that I am per 
 fect! And yet you know what I have done you 
 have seen all my wrongness!" 
 
 Her voice broke, and she could not speak a word 
 more; she bowed her head and the trembling came 
 again, while the other clasped her hands more 
 tightly and bent towards her. "Helen," he said, 
 "I call you to a sacred life that forgets all things 
 but love. Precious girl, my soul cries out to me 
 that I have a right to you, that you were made that 
 I might kneel before you; it cries out to me, Speak 
 the word and claim her, claim her for your own, 
 for no man could love her more than you love her. 
 Tell her that all your life you have waited for this 
 
 297 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 sacred hour to come; tell her that you have power 
 and life, and that all your soul is hers! And oh, 
 dear heart, if only you could tell rne that you might 
 love me, that years of waiting might win you, it 
 would be such happiness as I have never dared to 
 dream. Tell me, Helen, tell me if it be true!" 
 
 And the girl lifted her face to him, and he saw 
 that all her soul had leaped into her eyes. Her 
 bosom heaved, and she flung back her head and 
 stretched wide her arms, and cried aloud, "Oh, 
 David, I do love you!" 
 
 He clasped her in his arms and pressed her upon 
 his bosom in an ecstasy of joy, and kissed the lips 
 that had spoken the wonderful words. "Tell me," 
 he exclaimed, "you will be mine?" And she an 
 swered him, "Yours!" 
 
 For that there was no answer but the clasp of his 
 love. At last he whispered, "Oh, Helen, a lifetime 
 of worship can never repay you for words like 
 those. My life, my soul, tell me once more, for you 
 cannot be mine too utterly; tell me once more that 
 you are mine!" 
 
 And suddenly she leaned back her head and 
 looked into his burning eyes, and began swiftly, her 
 voice choking: "Oh, listen, listen to me! if it be 
 a pleasure to you to know how you have this heart. 
 I tell you, wonderful man that God has given me 
 for mine, that I loved you the first word that I 
 heard you speak in the garden. You were all that 
 I knew 7 of in life to yearn for you were a wonderful 
 light that had flashed upon me and blinded me; 
 and when I saw my own vileness in it I flung my 
 self down on my face, and felt a more fearful de- 
 
 298 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 spair than I had ever dreamed could torture a soul. 
 I would have crawled to you upon my knees and 
 groveled in the dirt and begged you to have mercy 
 upon me; and afterwards when you lifted me up, 
 I could have kissed the ground that you trod. But 
 oh, I knew one thing, and it was all that gave me 
 courage ever to look upon you; I heard the sacred 
 voice of my womanhood within me, telling me that 
 I was not utterly vile, because it was in my igno 
 rance that I had done my sin; and that if ever I had 
 known what love really was, I should have laughed 
 at the wealth of empires. To win your heart I 
 would fling away all that I ever cared for in life 
 my beauty, my health, my happiness yes, I would 
 fling away my soul! And when you talked to me of 
 love and told me that its sacrifice was hard, I J, 
 little girl that I am could have told you that you 
 were talking as a child; and I thought, Oh, if only 
 this man, instead of urging me to love another and 
 win my peace, if only he were not afraid to trust me, 
 if only he were willing that I should love him! And 
 this afternoon when I set out with you, do you 
 know what was the real thing that lay at the bot 
 tom of my heart and made me so happy? I said 
 to myself, It may take months, and it may take 
 years, but there is a crown in life that I may win 
 that I may win forever! And this man ahall tell 
 me my duty, and night and day I shall watch and 
 pray to do it, and do more; and he will not know 
 why I do it, but it shall be for nothing but the love 
 of him; and some day the worship that is in his 
 heart shall come to me, tho it find me upon my 
 death-bed/ And now you take me and tell me that 
 
 290 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 I have Only to love you; and you frighten me, and 
 I cannot believe that it is true! But oh, you are 
 pilot and master, and you know, and I will believe 
 you only tell me this wonderful thing again that 
 I may be sure that in spite of all my weakness 
 and my helplessness and my failures, you love me 
 and you trust me and you ask for me. If that is 
 really the truth, David, tell me if that is really 
 the truth!" 
 
 David whispered to her, "Yes, yes; that is the 
 truth;" and the girl went on swiftly, half sobbing 
 with her emotion : 
 
 "If you tell me that, what more do I need to 
 know? You are my life and my soul, and you call 
 me. For the glory of your wonderful love I will 
 leave all the rest of the world behind me, and you 
 may take me where you will and when you will, and 
 do with me what you. please. And oh, you who 
 frightened me so about my wrongness and told me 
 how hard it was to be right do you know how 
 easy it is for me to say those words? And do you 
 know how happy I am because I love you and you 
 are mine? David my David my heart has been 
 so full, so wild and thirsty, that now when you 
 tell me that you want all my love, it is a word of 
 glory to me, it tells me to be happy as never in my 
 life have I been happy before!" 
 
 And David bent towards her and kissed her upon 
 her beautiful lips and upon her forehead; and he 
 pressed the trembling form closer upon him, so that 
 the heaving of her bosom answered to his own. 
 "Listen, my love, my precious heart," he whispered, 
 "I will tell you about the vision of my life, now 
 
 300 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 when you and I are thus heart to heart. Helen, 
 my soul cries out that this union must be perfect, 
 in mind and soul and body a blending of all our 
 selves; so that we may live in each other s hearts, 
 and seek each other s perfection; so that we may 
 have nothing one from the other, but be one and the 
 same soul in the glory of our love. That is such a 
 sacred thought, my life, my darling; it makes all 
 my being a song! And as I clasp you to me thus, 
 and kiss you, I feel that I have never been so near 
 to God. I have worshiped all my days in the great 
 religion of love, and now as the glory of it burns 
 in my heart I feel lifted above even us, and see that 
 it is because of Him that we love each other so; 
 because He is one, our souls may be one, actually 
 and really one, so that each loses himself and lives 
 the other s life. I know that I love you so that 
 I can fling my whole self away, and give up every 
 thought in life but you. As I tell you that, my 
 heart is bursting; oh! drink in this passion of mine, 
 and tell me once more that you love me!" 
 
 Helen had still been leaning back her head and 
 gazing into his eyes, all her soul uplifted in the 
 glory of her emotion; there was a wild look upon 
 her face, and her breath was coming swiftly. For 
 a moment more she gazed at him, and then she 
 buried her face on his shoulder, crying, "Mine 
 mine!" For a long time she clung to him, breathing 
 the word and quite lost in the joy of it; until at last 
 she leaned back her head and gazed up into his eyes 
 once more. 
 
 "Oh, David," she said, "what can I answer you? 
 I can only tell you one thing, that here I am in your 
 
 301 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 arms, and that I am yours yours ! And I love you, 
 oh, before God I love you with all my soul! And 
 I am so happy oh, David, so happy! Dearest 
 heart, can you not see how you have won me, so 
 that I cannot live without you, so that anything you 
 ask of me you may have? I cannot tell you any 
 more, because I am trembling so, and I am so weak ; 
 for this has been more than I can bear, it is as if 
 all my being were melting within me. But oh, I 
 never thought that a human being could be so 
 happy, or that to love could be such a world of 
 wonder and joy." 
 
 Helen, as she had been speaking, had sunk down 
 exhaustedly, letting her head fall forward upon her 
 bosom; she lay quite limp in David s arms, while lit 
 tle by little the agitation that had so shaken her 
 subsided. In the meantime he was bending over the 
 golden hair that was so wild and so beautiful, and 
 there were tears in his eyes. When at last the girl 
 was quiet she leaned back her head upon his arm 
 and looked up into his face, and he bent over her 
 and pressed a kiss upon her mouth. Helen gazed 
 into his eyes and asked him: 
 
 "David, do you really know what you have done 
 to this little maiden, how fearfully and how madly 
 you have made her yours ? I never dreamed of what 
 it could mean to love before; when men talked to 
 me of it I laughed at them, and the touch of their 
 hands made me shrink. And now here I am, and 
 everything about me is changed. Take me away 
 with you, David, and keep me I do not care what 
 becomes of me, if only you let me have your heart." 
 
 The girl closed her eyes and lay still again for a 
 
 302 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 long time; when she began to speak once more it 
 was softly, and very slowly, and half as if in a 
 dream: "David/ she whispered, "my David, I am 
 tired; I think I never felt so helpless. But oh, 
 dear heart, it seems a kind of music in my soul, 
 that I have cast all my sorrow away, and that I 
 may be happy again, and be at peace at peace!" 
 And the girl repeated the words to herself more 
 and more gently, until her voice had died away al 
 together; the other was silent for a long time, gaz 
 ing down upon the perfect face, and then at last he 
 kissed the trembling eyelids till they opened once 
 again. 
 
 "Sweet girl," he whispered, "as God gives me life 
 you shall never be sorry for that beautiful faith, or 
 sorry that you have laid bare your heart to me." 
 Long afterwards, having watched her without 
 speaking, he w r ent on with a smile, "I wonder if you 
 would not be happier yet, dearest, if I should tell 
 you all the beautiful things that I mean to do with 
 you. For now that you are all mine, I am going 
 to carry you far away; you will like that, will you 
 not, precious one?" 
 
 He saw a little of an old light come back into 
 Helen s eyes as he asked that question. "What 
 difference does it make?" she asked, gently. 
 
 David laughed and went on: "Very well then, 
 you shall have nothing to do with it. I shall take 
 you in my arms just as you are. And I have a 
 beautiful little house, a very little house among the 
 wildest of mountains, and there we shall live this 
 wonderful summer, all alone with our wonderful 
 love. And there we shall have nature to worship, 
 
 303 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 and beautiful music, and beautiful books to read. 
 You shall never have anything more to think about 
 all your life but making yourself perfect and 
 beautiful." 
 
 The girl had raised herself up and was gazing at 
 him with interest as he spoke thus. But he saw a 
 swift frown cross her features at his last words, 
 and he stopped and asked her what was the matter. 
 Helen s reply was delivered very gravely. "What 
 I was to think about," she said, "was settled long 
 ago, and I wish you would not say wicked things 
 like that to me." 
 
 A moment later she laughed at herself a little; 
 but then, pushing back her tangled hair from her 
 forehead, she went on seriously : "David, what you 
 tell me of is all that I ever thought of enjoying in 
 life; and yet I am so glad that you did not say any 
 thing about it before! For I want to love you be 
 cause of you, and I want you to know that I would 
 follow you and worship you and live in your love 
 if there were nothing else in life for you to offer 
 me. And, David, do you not see that you are never 
 going to make this poor, restless creature happy 
 until you have given her something stern to do, 
 something that she may know she is doing just for 
 your love and for nothing else, bearing some effort 
 and pain to make you happy?" 
 
 The girl had put her hands upon his shoulders, 
 and was gazing earnestly into his eyes; he looked 
 at her for a moment, and then responded in a low 
 voice: "Helen, dearest, let us not play with fearful 
 words, and let us not tempt sorrow. My life has not 
 been all happiness, and you will have pain enough 
 
 304 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 to share with me, I fear, poor little girl." She 
 thought in a flash of his sickness, and she turned 
 quite pale as she looked at him; but then she bent 
 forward gently and folded her arms about him, and 
 for a minute more there was silence. 
 
 There were tears standing in David s eyes when 
 she looked at him again. But he smiled in spite of 
 them and kissed her once more, and said: "Sweet 
 heart, it is not wrong that we should be happy 
 while we can; and come what may, you know, we 
 need not ever cease to love. When I hear such 
 noble words from you I think I have a medicine to 
 make all sickness light; so be bright and beautiful 
 once more for my sake." 
 
 Helen smiled and answered that she would, and 
 then her eye chanced to light upon the ground, 
 where she saw the wild rose lying forgotten; she 
 stooped down and picked it up, and then knelt on 
 the grass beside David and pressed it against his 
 bosom while she gazed up into his face. "Once," 
 she said, smiling tenderly, "I read a pretty little 
 stanza, and if you will love me more for it, I will 
 tell it to you. 
 
 " The sweetest flower that blows 
 
 I give you as we part, 
 To you, it is a rose, 
 
 To me, it is a heart. " 
 
 And the man took the flower, and took the hands 
 too, and kissed them; then a memory chanced to 
 come to him, and he glanced about him on the moss- 
 covered forest floor. He saw some little clover-like 
 leaves that all forest-lovers love, and he stooped and 
 picked one of the gleaming white blossoms and laid 
 
 20 305 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 it in Helen s hands. "Dearest," he said, "it is beau 
 tiful to make love with the flowers; I chanced to 
 think how I once wrote a pretty little poem, and if 
 you will love me more for it, I will tell it to you" 
 Then while the girl gazed at him happily, he went 
 on to add, "This was long before I knew you, dear, 
 and when I worshiped the flowers. One of them 
 was this little wood sorrel. 
 
 I found it in the forest dark, 
 
 A blossom of the snow; 
 I read upon its face so fair, 
 
 No heed of human woe. 
 
 Yet when I sang my passion song 
 
 And when the sun rose higher, 
 The flower flung wide its heart to me, 
 
 And lo! its heart was fire." 
 
 Helen gazed at him a moment after he finished, 
 and then she took the little flower and laid it gently 
 back in the group from which he had plucked it; 
 afterwards she looked up and laughed. "I want 
 that poem for myself," she said, and drew closer 
 to him, and put her arms about him; he gazed into 
 her upraised face, and there was a look of wonder in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "Oh, precious girl," he said, "I wonder if you know 
 what a vision of beauty God has made you ! I won 
 der if you know how fair your eyes are, if you know 
 what glory a man may read in your face! Helen, 
 when I look upon you I know that God has meant 
 to pay me for all my years of pain ; and it is all that 
 I can do to think that you are really, really mine. 
 Do you not know that to gaze upon you will make 
 
 306 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 me a mad, mad creature for years and years and 
 years?" 
 
 Helen answered him gravely: "With all my 
 beauty, David, I am really, really yours; and I love 
 you so that I do not care anything in the world 
 about being beautiful, except because it makes you 
 happy; to do that I shall be always just as perfect 
 as I may, thro all those mad years and years and 
 years!" Then, as she glanced about her, she added: 
 "We must go pretty soon, because it is late; but oh, 
 before we do, sweetheart, will you kiss me once 
 more for all those years and years and years?" 
 
 And David bent over and clasped her in his arms 
 again, 
 
 Sie ist mir e - wig, ist mir 
 
 
 im - mer, Erb und Ei - gen, ein und all ! 
 
 END OF PART I 
 
 307 
 
PARTH 
 
 "When summer gathers up her robes of glory, 
 And like a dream of beauty glides away." 
 
 309 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 "Across the hills and far away, 
 
 Beyond their utmost purple rim, 
 And deep into the dying day 
 
 The happy princess follow d him." 
 
 IT WAS several months after Helen s marriage. 
 The scene was a little lake, in one of the wildest 
 parts of the Adirondacks, surrounded by tall moun 
 tains which converted it into a basin in the land, 
 and walled in by a dense growth about the shores, 
 which added still more to its appearance of seclu 
 sion. In only one place was the scenery more open, 
 where there was a little vale between two of the 
 hills, and where a mountain torrent came rushing 
 down the steep incline. There the underbrush had 
 been cleared away, and beneath the great forest 
 trees a house constructed, a little cabin built of 
 logs, and in harmony with the rest of the scene. 
 
 It was only large enough for two or three rooms 
 downstairs, and as many above, and all were fur 
 nished in the plainest way. About the main room 
 there were shelves of books, and a piano and a 
 well-chosen music-library. It was the little home 
 which for a dozen years or more David Howard had 
 occupied alone, and where he and Helen had spent 
 the golden summer of their love. 
 
 It was late in the fall then, and the mountains 
 were robed in scarlet and orange. Helen was stand- 
 
 311 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ing upon the little piazza, a shawl flung about her 
 shoulders, because it was yet early in the morning. 
 She was talking to her father, who had been paying 
 them a few days visit, and was taking a last look 
 about him at the fresh morning scene before it was 
 time for him to begin his long homeward journey. 
 
 Helen was clad in a simple dress, and with the 
 prettiest of white sun bonnets tied upon her head; 
 she was browned by the sun, and looked a picture of 
 health and happiness as she held her father s arm 
 in hers. "And then you are quite sure that you are 
 happy?" he was saying, as he looked at her radiant 
 face. 
 
 She echoed the word "Happy?" and then she 
 stretched out her arms and took a deep breath and 
 echoed it again. "I am so happy," she laughed, "I 
 never know what to do! You did not stay long 
 enough for me to tell you, Daddy!" She paused 
 for a moment, and then went on, "I think there 
 never was anybody in the world so full of joy. For 
 this is such a beautiful little home, you know, and 
 we live such a beautiful life; and oh, we love each 
 other so that the days seem to fly by like the wind! 
 I never even have time to think how happy I am." 
 
 "Your husband really loves you as much as he 
 ought," said the father, gazing at her tenderly. 
 
 "I think God never put on earth another such man 
 as David," replied, the girl, with sudden gravity. 
 "He is so noble, and so unselfish in every little 
 thing; I see it in his eyes every instant that all his 
 life is lived for nothing but to win my love. And 
 it just draws the heart right out of me, Daddy, so 
 that I could live on my knees before him, just trying 
 
 312 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 to tell him how much I love him. I cannot ever 
 love him enough; but it grows it grows like great 
 music, and every day my heart is more full!" 
 
 Helen was standing with her head thrown back, 
 gazing ahead of her; then she turned and laughed, 
 and put her arm about her father again, saying: 
 "Haven t you just seen what a beautiful life we 
 live? And oh, Daddy, most of the time I am afraid 
 because I married David, when I see how much he 
 knows. Just think of it, he has lived all alone 
 ever since he was young, and done nothing but read 
 and study. Now he brings all those treasures to 
 me, to make me happy with, and he frightens me." 
 She stopped for a moment and then continued 
 earnestly: "I have to be able to go with him every 
 where, you know, I can t expect him to stay back all 
 his life for me; and that makes me work very hard. 
 David says that there is one duty in the world 
 higher than love, and that is the duty of labor, that 
 no soul in the world can be right for one instant if 
 it is standing still and is satisfied, even with the 
 soul it loves. He told me that before he married me, 
 but at first when we came up here he was so im 
 patient that he quite frightened me; but now I have 
 learned to understand it all, and we are wonder 
 fully one in everything. Daddy, dear, isn t it a 
 beautiful way to live, to be always striving, and 
 having something high and sacred in one s mind? 
 And to make all of one s life from one s own heart, 
 and not to be dependent upon anything else? David 
 and I live away off here in the mountains, and we 
 never have anything of what other people call 
 comforts ari enjoyments we have nothing but a 
 
 3i3 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 few books and a little music, and Nature, and our 
 own love; and we are so wonderfully happy with 
 just those that nothing else in the world could 
 make any difference, certainly nothing that money 
 could buy us." 
 
 "I was worried when you wrote me that you did 
 not even have a servant," said Mr. Davis. 
 
 "It isn t any trouble," laughed Helen. (David s 
 man lived in the village half a mile away and came 
 over every day to bring what was necessary.) 
 "This is such a tiny little cottage, and David and 
 I are very enthusiastic people, and we want to be 
 able to make lots of noise and do just as we please. 
 We have so much music, you know, Daddy, and of 
 course David is quite a wild man when he gets 
 excited with music." 
 
 Helen stopped and looked at her father and 
 laughed; then she rattled merrily on: "We are 
 both of us just two children, for David is so much 
 in love with me that it makes him as young as I 
 am; and we are away off from everything, and so 
 we can be as happy with each other as we choose. 
 We have this little lake all to ourselves, you know; 
 it s getting cold now, and pretty soon we ll have to 
 fly away to the south, but all this summer long we 
 used to get up in the morning in time to see the 
 sun rise, and to have a wonderful swim. And then 
 we have so many things to read and study; and 
 David talks to me, and tells me all that he knows; 
 and besides all that we have to tell each other how 
 much we love each other, which takes a fearful 
 amount of time. It seems that neither of us can 
 ever quite realize the glory of it, and when we think 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of it, it is a wonder that nobody ever told. Is not 
 that a beautiful way to live, Daddy dear, and to 
 love?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Davis, "that is a very beautiful 
 way indeed. And I think that my little girl has 
 all that I could wish her to have." 
 
 "Oh, there is no need to tell me that!" laughed 
 Helen. "All I wish is that I might really be like 
 David and be worth his love; I never think about 
 anything else all day." The girl stood for a moment 
 gazing at her father, and then, looking more serious, 
 she put her arm about him and whispered softly: 
 "And oh, Daddy, it is too wonderful to talk about, 
 but I ought to tell you; for some day by and by 
 God is going to send us a new, oh, a new, new 
 wonder!" And Helen blushed beautifully as her 
 father gazed into her eyes. 
 
 He took her hand tenderly in his own, and the 
 two stood for some time in silence. When it was 
 broken it was by the rattling of the wagon which 
 had come to take Mr. Davis away. 
 
 David came out then to bid his guest good-by, 
 and the three stood for a few minutes conversing. 
 It was not very difficult for Helen to take leave of 
 her father, for she would see him, so she said, in 
 a week or two more. She stood waving her hands 
 to him, until the bumping wagon was lost to sight 
 in the woods, and then she turned and took David s 
 hand in hers and gazed across the water at the 
 gorgeous-colored mountains. The lake was spark 
 ling in the sunlight, and the sky was bright and 
 clear, but Helen s thoughts took a different turn 
 from that. 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 All summer long she had been rejoicing in the 
 glory of the landscape about her, in the glowing 
 fern and the wild-flowers underfoot, and in the 
 boundless canopy of green above, with its unresting 
 song-birds; now there were only the shrill cries of 
 a pair of blue-jays to be heard, and every puff of 
 wind that came brought down a shower of rustling 
 leaves to the already thickly-covered ground. 
 
 "Is it not sad, David," the girl said, "to think 
 how the beauty should all be going?" 
 
 David did not answer her for a moment. "When 
 I think of it," he said at last, "it brings me not so 
 much sadness as a strange feeling of mystery. Only 
 stop, and think of what that vanished springtime 
 meant think that it was a presence of living, 
 feeling, growing creatures, infinite, unthinkable 
 masses of them, robing all the w r orld; and that now 
 the life and the glory of it all is suddenly gone back 
 into nothingness, that it was all but a fleeting 
 vision, a phantom presence on the earth. I never 
 realize that without coming to think of all the other 
 things of life, and that they too are no more real 
 than the springtime flowers; and so it makes me 
 feel as if I were walking upon air, and living in a 
 dream." 
 
 Helen was leaning against a post of the piazza, 
 her eyes fixed upon David intently. "Does that 
 not give a new meaning to the vanished spring 
 time?" he asked her; and she replied in a wonder 
 ing whisper, "Yes," and then gazed at him for a 
 long time. 
 
 "David," she said at last, "it is fearful to think 
 
 31$ 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of a thing like that. What does it all mean? What 
 causes it?" 
 
 "Men have been asking that helpless question 
 since the dawn of time," he answered, "we only 
 know what we see, this whirling and weaving of 
 shadows, with its sacred facts of beauty and love." 
 
 Helen looked at him thoughtfully a moment, and 
 then, recollecting something she had heard from her 
 father, she said, "But, David, if God be a mystery 
 like that, how can there be any religion?" 
 
 "What we may fancy God to be makes no differ 
 ence," he answered. "That which we know is 
 always the same, we have always the love and al 
 ways the beauty. All men s religion is but the 
 assertion that the source of these sacred things 
 must be infinitely sacred, and that whatever may 
 happen to us, that source can suffer no harm; that 
 we live by a power stronger than ourselves, and 
 that has no need of us." 
 
 Helen was looking at her husband anxiously; 
 then suddenly she asked him, "But tell me then, 
 David; you do not believe in heaven? You do not 
 believe that our soul s are immortal?" As he 
 answered her in the negative she gave a slight start, 
 and knitted her brows; and after another pause 
 she demanded, "You do not believe in revealed 
 religion then?" 
 
 David could not help smiling, recognizing the 
 voice of his clerical father-in-law; when he an 
 swered, however, he was serious again. "Some day, 
 perhaps, dear Helen," he said, "I will tell you all 
 about what I think as to such things. But very 
 few of the world s real thinkers believe in revealed 
 
 317 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 religions any more they have come to see them 
 simply as guesses of humanity at God s great sacred 
 mystery, and to believe that God s way of revealing 
 Himself to men is through the forms of life itself. 
 As to the question of immortality that you speak of, 
 I have always felt that death is a sign of the fact 
 that God is infinite and perfect, and that we are but 
 shadows in his sight; that we live by a power that 
 is not our own, and seek for beauty that is not our 
 own, and that each instant of our lives is a free 
 gift which we can only repay by thankfulness and 
 worship." 
 
 He paused for a moment, and the girl, who 
 had still been gazing at him thoughtfully, went on, 
 "Father used to talk about those things to me, 
 David, and he showed me how the life of men is all 
 spent in suffering and struggling, and that there 
 fore faith teaches us " 
 
 "Yes, dearest," the other put in, "I know all that 
 you are going to say; I have read these arguments 
 very often, you know. But suppose that I were to 
 tell you that I think suffering and struggling is the 
 very essence of the soul, and that what faith teaches 
 us is that the suffering and struggling are sacred, 
 and not in the least that they are some day to be 
 made as nothing? Dearest, if it is true that the soul 
 makes this life what it is, a life of restless seeking 
 for an infinite, would it not make the same life 
 anywhere else? Do you remember reading with me 
 Emerson s poem about Uriel, the seraph who sang 
 before God s throne, how even that could not 
 please him, and how he left it to plunge into the 
 struggle of things imperfect; and how ever after 
 
 318 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 the rest of the seraphim were afraid of Uriel? Do 
 you think, dearest, that this life of love and labor 
 that you and I live our Own selves needs anything 
 else to justify it? The life that I lived all alone 
 was much harder and more full of pain than this, 
 but I never thought that it needed any rewarding." 
 
 David stopped and stood gazing ahead of him 
 thoughtfully; when he continued his voice was 
 lower and more solemn. These things are almost 
 too sacred to talk of, Helen," he said; "but there 
 is one doubt that I have known about this, one 
 thing that has made me wonder if there ought not to 
 be another world after all. I never sympathized 
 with any man s longing for heaven, but I can under 
 stand how 7 a man might be haunted by some fear 
 ful baseness of his own self, something which long 
 years of effort had taught him he could not ever 
 expiate by the strength of his own heart, and 
 how r he could pray that there might be some place 
 where Tightness might be won at last, cost what it 
 would." 
 
 The man s tone had been so strange as he spoke 
 that it caused Helen to start; suddenly she came 
 closer to him and put her hands upon his shoulders 
 and gazed into his eyes. "David," she whispered, 
 "listen to me a moment." 
 
 "Yes, dear," he said, "what is it?" 
 
 "Was it because of yourself that you said those 
 words?" 
 
 He was silent for a moment, gazing into her 
 anxious eyes; then he bowed his head and said in a 
 faint voice, "Yes, dear, it was because of myself." 
 
 And the girl, becoming suddenly very serious, 
 
 3i9 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 went on, "Do you remember, David, a long time 
 ago the time that I was leaving Aunt Polly s 
 that you told me how you knew what it was to 
 have something very terrible on one s conscience? I 
 have not ever said anything about that, but I have 
 never forgotten it. Was it that that you thought 
 of then?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, it was that," answered the other, 
 trembling slightly. 
 
 Helen stooped down upon her knees and put her 
 arms about him, gazing up pleadingly into his face. 
 "Dearest David," she whispered, "is it right to 
 refuse to tell me about that sorrow?" 
 
 There was a long silence, after which the man 
 replied slowly, "I have not ever refused to tell you, 
 sweetheart; it would be very fearful to tell, but I 
 have not any secrets from you; and if you wished 
 it, you should know. But, dear, it was long, long 
 ago, and nothing can ever change it now. It would 
 only make us sad to know it, so why should we 
 talk of it?" 
 
 He stopped, and Helen gazed long and earnestly 
 into his face. "David," she said, "it is not possible 
 for me to imagine you ever doing anything wrong, 
 you are so good." 
 
 "Perhaps," said David, "it is because you are 
 so good yourself." But Helen interrupted him at 
 that with a quick rejoinder: "Do you forget that I 
 too have a sorrow upon my conscience?" After 
 wards, as she saw that the eager remark caused the 
 other to smile in spite of himself, she checked him 
 gravely with the words, "Have you really forgotten 
 so soon? Do you suppose I do not ever think no\v 
 
 320 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of how I treated poor Arthur, and how I drove 
 ;i\\ay from me the best friend of mj girlhood? 
 He wrote me that he would think of me no more, 
 but, David, sometimes I wonder if it were not just 
 an angry boast, and if he might not yet be lonely 
 and wretched, somewhere in this great cold world 
 where I cannot ever find him or help him." 
 
 The girl paused; David was regarding her ear 
 nestly, and for a long time neither of them spoke. 
 Then suddenly the man bent down, and pressed a 
 kiss upon her forehead. Let us only love each 
 other, dear," he whispered, "and try to keep as 
 right as we can w 7 hile the time is given us." 
 
 There was a long silence after that while the two 
 sat gazing out across the blue lake; when Helen 
 spoke again it was to say, "Some day you must tell 
 me all about it, David, because I can help you; but 
 let us not talk about these dreadful things now." 
 She stopped again, and afterwards went on thought 
 fully, "I was thinking still of what you said about 
 immortality, and how very strange it is to think 
 of ceasing to be. Might it not be, David, that 
 heaven is a place not of reward, but of the same 
 ceaseless effort as you spoke of?" 
 
 "Ah, yes," said the other, "that is the thought 
 of the wages of going on. And of course, dear, 
 we would all like those wages; there is no thought 
 that tempts me so much as the possibility of being 
 able to continue the great race forever; but I don t 
 see how we have the least right to demand it, or 
 that the facts give us the least reason to suppose 
 that we will get it. It seems to me simply a fan- 
 tastio and arbitrary fancy; the re-creating of a worn- 
 21 321 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 out life in that way. I do not think, dearest, that 
 I am in the least justified in claiming an eternity of 
 vision because God gives me an hour; and when I 
 ask Him the question in my own heart I learn 
 simply that I am a wretched, sodden creature that 
 I do not crowd that hour with all infinity and go 
 quite mad at the sight of the beauty that He flings 
 wide before me." 
 
 Helen did not reply for a while, and then she 
 asked: "And you think, David, that our life justi 
 fies itself no matter how much suffering may be in 
 it?" 
 
 "I think, dearest," was his reply, "that the soul s 
 life is struggle, and that the soul s life is sacred; 
 and that to be right, to struggle to be right, is not 
 only life s purpose, but also life s reward; and that 
 each instant of such righteousness is its own war 
 rant, tho the man be swept out of existence in the 
 next." Then David stopped, and when he went on 
 it was in a lower voice. "Dear Helen," he said, 
 "after I have told you what I feel I deserve in life, 
 you can understand my not washing to talk lightly 
 about such things as suffering. Just now, as I sit 
 here at my ease, and in fact all through my poor 
 life, I have felt about such sacred words as duty 
 and righteousness that it would be just as well if 
 they did not ever pass my lips. But there have 
 come to me one or two times, dear, when I dared a 
 little of the labor of things, and drank a drop or 
 two of the wine of the spirit; and those times have 
 lived to haunt me and make me at least not a happy 
 man in my unearned ease. There come to me still 
 just once in a while hours when I get sight of the 
 
 322 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 gleam, hours that make me loathe all that in my 
 hours of comfort I loved ; and there comes over me 
 then a kind of Titanic rage, that I should go down 
 a beaten soul because I have not the iron strength 
 of will to lash my own self to life, and tear out of 
 my own heart a little of what power is in it. At 
 such times, Helen, I find just this one wish in my 
 mird, that God would send to me, cost what it 
 might, some of the fearful experience that rouses 
 a man s soul within him, and makes him live his life 
 in spite of all his dullness and his fear." 
 
 David had not finished, but he halted, because he 
 saw a strange look upon the girl s face. She did 
 not answer him at once, but sat gazing at him ; and 
 then she said in a very grave voice, "David, I do not 
 like to hear such words as that from you." 
 
 "What words, dearest?" 
 
 "Do you mean actually that it sometimes seems 
 to you wrong to live happily with me as you have?" 
 
 David laid his hand quietly upon hers, watching 
 for a minute her anxious countenance. Then he 
 said in a low voice: "You ought not to ask me 
 about such things, dear, or blame me for them. 
 Sometimes I have to face the very cruel thought 
 that I ought not ever to have linked my fate to one 
 so sweet and gentle as you, because what I ought to 
 be doing in the world to win a right conscience is 
 something so hard and so stern that it would mean 
 that I could never be really happy all my life." 
 
 David was about to go on, but he stopped again 
 because of Helen s look of displeasure. "David," 
 she whispered, "that is the most unloving thing 
 that I have ever heard from you !" 
 
 323 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "And you must blame me, dear, because of it?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "I suppose," Helen answered, "that you would 
 misunderstand me as long as I chose to let you. Do 
 you not suppose that I too have a conscience, do 
 you suppose that I want any happiness it is wrong 
 for us to take, or that I would not dare to go any 
 where that your duty took you? And do you sup 
 pose that anything could be so painful to me as 
 to know that you do not trust me, that you are 
 afraid to live your life, and do what is your duty, 
 before me?" 
 
 David bent down suddenly and pressed a kiss 
 upon the girl s forehead. "Precious little heart," 
 he whispered, "those words are very beautiful." 
 
 "I did not say them because they were beautiful," 
 answered Helen gravely; "I said them because I 
 meant them, and because I wanted you to take 
 them in earnest. I want to know what it is that 
 you and I ought to be doing, instead of enjoying 
 our lives; and after you have told me what it is 
 I can tell you one thing that I shall not be happy 
 again in my life until it is done." 
 
 David watched her thoughtfully a while before he 
 answered, because he saw that she was very much 
 in earnest. Then he said sadly, "Dearest Helen, 
 perhaps the reason that I have never been able all 
 through my life to satisfy my soul is the pitiful fact 
 that I have not the strength to dare any of the work 
 of other men ; I have had always to chafe under the 
 fact that I must choose between nourishing my 
 poor body, or ceasing to live. I have learned that 
 all my power and more too, as it sometimes 
 
 324 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 seemed, was needed to bear bravely the dreadful 
 trials that God has sent to me." 
 
 Helen paled slightly; she felt his hand trembling 
 upon hers, and she remembered his illness at her 
 aunt s, about which she had never had the courage 
 to speak to him. "And so, dear heart," he went on 
 slowly, "let us only be sure that we are keeping 
 our lives pure and strong, that we are living in the 
 presence of high thoughts and keeping the mastery 
 of ourselves, and saying and really meaning that 
 we live for something unselfish; so that if duty and 
 danger come, we shall not prove cowards, and if 
 suffering comes we should not give way and lose 
 our faith. Does that please you, dear Helen?" 
 
 The girl pressed his hand silently in hers. After 
 a while he went on still more solemnly: "Some 
 time," he said, "I meant to talk to you about just 
 that, dearest, to tell you how stern and how watch 
 ful we ought to be. It is very sad to me to see what 
 happens when the great and fearful realities of life 
 disclose themselves to good and kind people who 
 have been living without any thought of such 
 things. I feel that it is very wrong to live so, that 
 if we wished to be right we would hold the high 
 truths before us, no matter how much labor it 
 cost." 
 
 "What truths do 1 you mean?" asked Helen 
 earnestly; and he answered her: "For one, the very 
 fearful fact of which I have just been talking 
 that you and I are two bubbles that meet for an 
 instant upon the whirling stream of time. Sup 
 pose, sweetheart, that I were to tell you that I do 
 not think you and I would be living our lives truly, 
 
 325 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 until we were quite sure that we could bear to be 
 parted forever without losing our faith in God s 
 righteousness?" 
 
 Helen turned quite white, and clutched the 
 other s hands in hers; she had not once thought of 
 actually applying what he had said to her. "David! 
 David!" she cried, "No!" 
 
 The man smiled gently as he brushed back the 
 hair from her forehead and gazed into her eyes. 
 "And when you asked for sternness, dear," he said, 
 "was it that you did not know what the word 
 meant? Life is real, dear Helen, and the effort it 
 demands is real effort." 
 
 The girl did not half hear these last words; she 
 was still staring at her husband. "Listen to me, 
 David," she said at last, still holding his hand 
 tightly in hers, her voice almost a whisper; "I could 
 bear anything for you, David, I know that I could 
 bear anything; I could really die for you, I say that 
 with all my soul, that was what I was thinking 
 of when you spoke of death. But David, if you 
 were to be taken from me, if you were to be taken 
 
 from me " and she stopped, unable to find a 
 
 word more. 
 
 "Perhaps it will be just as well not to tell me, 
 dear heart," he said to her, gently. 
 
 "David," she went on more strenuously yet, 
 listen to me you must not ever ask me to think of 
 that! Do you hear me? For, oh, it cannot be true, 
 it cannot be true, David, that you could be taken 
 from me forever! What would I have left to live 
 for?" 
 
 "Would you not have the great wonderful God?" 
 
 326 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 asked the other gently "the God who made me and 
 all that was lovable in me, and made you, and 
 would demand that you worship him?" But Helen 
 only shook her head once more and answered, "It 
 could not be true, David, no, no!" Then she 
 added in a faint voice, "What would be the use of 
 my having lived?" 
 
 The man bent forward and kissed her again, and 
 kissed away a little of the frightened, anxious look 
 upon her face. "My dear," he said with a gentle 
 smile, "perhaps .1 was wrong to trouble you with 
 such fearful things after all. Let me tell you in 
 stead a thought that once came to my mind, and 
 that has stayed there as the one I should like to 
 call the. most beautiful of all my life; it may help 
 to answer that question of yours about the use of 
 having lived. Men love life so much, Helen dear, 
 that they cannot ever have enough of it, and to 
 keep it and build it up they make what we call the 
 arts; this thought of mine is about one of them, 
 about music, the art that you and I love most. For 
 all the others have been derived from things ex 
 ternal, but music was made out of nothing, and 
 exists but for its one great purpose, and there 
 fore is the most spiritual of all of them. I like to 
 say that it is time made beautiful, and so a shadow 
 picture of the soul; it is this, because it can picture 
 different degrees of speed and of power, because it 
 can breathe and throb, can sweep and soar, can 
 yearn and pray, because, in short, everything that 
 happens in the heart can happen in music, so that 
 we may lose ourselves in it and actually live its 
 life, or so that a great genius can not merely tell 
 
 327 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 us about himself, but can make all the best hours 
 of his soul actually a part of our own. This thought 
 that I said was beautiful came to me from noticing 
 how perfectly the art was one with that which it 
 represented; so that we may say not only that 
 music is life, but that life is music. Music exists 
 because it is beautiful, dear Helen, and because it 
 brings an instant of the joy of beauty to our hearts, 
 and for no other reason whatever; it may be music 
 of happiness or of sorrow, of achievement or only 
 of hope, but so long as it is beautiful it is right, 
 and it makes no difference, either, that it cost 
 much labor of men, or that when it is gone it is 
 gone forever. And dearest, suppose that the music 
 not only was beautiful, but knew that it was beau 
 tiful; that it was not only the motion of the air, but 
 also the joy of our hearts; might it not then be its 
 own excuse, just one strain of it that rose in the dark 
 ness, and quivered and died away again forever?" 
 When David had spoken thus he stopped and sat 
 still for a while, gazing at his wife; then seeing the 
 anxious look still in possession of her face, he rose 
 suddenly by way of ending their talk. "Dearest," 
 he said, smiling, "it is wrong of me, perhaps, to 
 worry you about such very fearful things as those; 
 let us go in, and find something to do that is useful, 
 and not trouble ourselves with them any more." 
 
 328 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 "O Freude, habe Acht! 
 
 Sprich leise, 
 Dass nicht der Schmerz erwacht!" 
 
 IT was late on the afternoon of the day that 
 Helen s father had left for home, and David was 
 going into the village with some letters to mail. 
 Helen was not feeling very well herself and could 
 not go, but she insisted upon his going, for she 
 watched over his exercise and other matters of 
 health with scrupulous care. She had wrapped him 
 up in a heavy overcoat, and was kneeling beside his 
 chair with her arms about him. 
 
 "Tell me, dear," she asked him, for the third or 
 fourth time, "arc you sure this will be enough to 
 keep you warm? for the nights are so very cold, 
 you know; I do not like you to come back alone 
 anyway." 
 
 "I don t think you would be much of a protection 
 against danger," laughed David. 
 
 "But it will be dark when you get back, dear." 
 
 "It will only be about dusk," was the reply; "I 
 don t mind that." 
 
 Helen gazed at him wistfully for a minute, and then 
 she went on : "Do you not know what is the matter 
 with me, David? You frightened me to-day, and I 
 cannot forget what you said. Each time that it 
 
 329 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 comes to my mind it makes me shudder. Why 
 should you say such fearful things to me?" 
 
 "I am very sorry," said the other, gently. 
 
 "You simply must not talk to me so!" cried the 
 girl; "if you do you will make me so that I cannot 
 bear to leave you for an instant. For those 
 thoughts make my love for you simply desperate, 
 David; I cry out to myself that I never have loved 
 you enough, never told you enough!" And then she 
 added pleadingly, "But oh, you know that I love you, 
 do you not, dear? Tell me." 
 
 "Yes, I know it," said the other gently, taking 
 her in his arms and kissing her. 
 
 "Come back soon," Helen went on, "and I will tell 
 you once more how much I do; and then we can 
 be happy again, and I won t be afraid any more. 
 Please let me be happy, won t you, David?" 
 
 "Yes, love, I will," said the man with a smile. 
 "I do not think that I was wise ever to trouble you." 
 
 Helen was silent for a while, then as a sudden 
 thought occurred to her she added: "David, I meant 
 to tell you something do you know if those horri 
 ble thoughts keep haunting me, it is just this that 
 they will make me do; you said that God was very 
 good, and so I was thinking that I would show him 
 how very much I love you, how I could really never 
 get along without you, and how I care for nothing 
 else in the world. It seems to me to be such a little 
 thing, that we should only just want to love; and 
 truly, that is all I do want, I would not mind any 
 thing else in the world, I would go away from this 
 little house and live in any poor place, and do all 
 the work, and never care about anything else at 
 
 330 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 all, if I just might have you. That is really true, 
 David, and I wish that you would know it, and that 
 God would know it, and not expect me to think of 
 such dreadful things as you talk of." 
 
 As David gazed into her deep, earnest eyes he 
 pressed her to him with a sudden burst of emotion. 
 "You have me now, dearest," he whispered, "and 
 oh, I shall trust the God who gave me this precious 
 heart!" He kissed her once more in fervent love, 
 and kissed her again and again until the clouds 
 had left her face. She leaned back and gazed at 
 him, and was radiant with delight again. "Oh oh 
 oh!" she cried. "David, it only makes me more 
 full of wonder at the real truth! For it is the 
 truth, David, it is the truth that you are all mine! 
 It is so wonderful, and it makes me so happy, I 
 seem to lose myself more in the thought every day!" 
 
 "You can never lose yourself too much, little sweet 
 heart," David whispered; "let us trust to love, and 
 let it grow all that it will. Helen, I never knew 
 what it was to live until I met you, never knew 
 how life could be so full and rich and happy. And 
 never, never will I be able to tell you how much I 
 love you, dearest soul." 
 
 "Oh, but I believe you without being told!" she 
 said, laughing. "Do you know, I could make my 
 self quite mad just with saying over to myself that 
 you love me all that I could ever wish you to love 
 me, all that I could imagine you loving me! Isn t 
 that true, David?" 
 
 "Yes, that is true," the man replied. 
 
 "But you don t know what a wonderful imagina 
 tion I have," laughed the girl, "and how hungry 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 for your love I am." And she clasped him to her 
 passionately and cried, "David, you can make me 
 too happy to live with that thought! I shall have 
 to think about it all the time that you are gone, 
 and when you come back I shall be so wonderfully 
 excited, oh oh, David !" 
 
 Then she laughed eagerly and sprang up. "You 
 must not stay any longer," she exclaimed, "because 
 it is getting late; only hurry back, because I can 
 do nothing but wait for you." And so she led him 
 to the door, and kissed him again, and then watched 
 him as he started up the road. He turned and 
 looked at her, as she leaned against the railing of 
 the porch, with the glory of the sunset falling upon 
 her hair; she made a radiant picture, for her cheeks 
 were still flushed, and her bosom still heaving with 
 the glory of the thought she had promised to 
 keep. There was so much of her love in the look 
 which she kept upon David that it took some reso 
 lution to go on, and leave her. 
 
 As for Helen, she watched him until he had quite 
 disappeared in the forest, after which she turned 
 and gazed across the lake at the gold and crimson 
 mountains. But all the time she was still thinking 
 the thought of David s love; the wonder of it was 
 still upon her face, and it seemed to lift her form; 
 until at last she stretched wide her arms, and leaned 
 back her head, and drank a deep draft of the even 
 ing air, whispering aloud, "Oh, I do not dare to be 
 as happy as I can!" And she clasped her arms upon 
 her bosom and laughed a wild laugh of joy. 
 
 Later on, because it was cold, she turned and 
 went into the house, singing a song to herself as 
 
 332 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 she moved. As she went to the piano and sat down 
 she saw upon the rack the little springtime song of 
 Grieg s that was the first thing she had ever heard 
 upon David s violin; she played a few bars of it to 
 herself, and then she stopped and sat still, lost in 
 the memory which it brought to her mind of the 
 night when she had sat at the window and listened 
 to it, just after seeing Arthur for the last time. 
 "And to think that it was only four or five months 
 ago!" she whispered to herself. "And how wretched 
 I was!" 
 
 "I do not believe I could ever be so unhappy 
 again," she went on after a while, "I know that I 
 could not, while I have David!" after which her 
 thoughts came back into the old, old course of 
 joy. When she looked at the music again the mem 
 ory of her grief was gone, and she read in it all of 
 her own love-glory. She played it through again, 
 and afterwards sat quite still, until the twilight had 
 begun to gather in the room. 
 
 Helen then rose and lit the lamp, and the fire in 
 the open fire-place; she glanced at the clock and 
 saw that more than a quarter of an hour had 
 passed, and she said to herself that it could not be 
 more than that time again before David was back. 
 
 "I should go out and meet him if I were feeling 
 quite strong," she added as. she went to the door 
 and looked out; then she exclaimed suddenly: "But 
 oh, I know how I can please him better!" And the 
 girl went to the table where some of her books WMV 
 lying, and sat down and began very diligently study 
 ing, glancing every half minute at the clock and at 
 the door. "I shall be too busy even to hear him!" 
 
 333 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 she said, with a sudden burst of glee; and quite de 
 lighted with the effect that would produce she 
 listened eagerly every time she fancied she heard a 
 step, and then fixed her eyes upon the book, and 
 put on a look of most complete absorption. 
 
 Unfortunately for Helen s plan, however, each 
 time it proved to be a false alarm; and so the fifteen 
 minutes passed completely, and then five, and five 
 again. The girl had quite given up studying by that 
 time, and was gazing at the clock, and listening to 
 its ticking, and wondering very much indeed. At 
 last when more than three-quarters of an hour had 
 passed since David had left, she got up and went 
 to the door once more to listen; as she did not hear 
 anything she went out on the piazza, and finally to 
 the road. All about her was veiled in shadow, 
 which her eyes strove, in vain to pierce; and so 
 growing still more impatient she raised her voice 
 and called, "David, David!" and then stood and 
 listened to the rustling of the leaves and the faint 
 lapping of the water on the shore. 
 
 "That is very strange," Helen thought, growing 
 very anxious indeed; "it is fearfully strange! What 
 in the world can have happened?" And she called 
 again, with no more result that before; until with 
 a sudden resolution she turned and passed quickly 
 into the house, and flinging a wrap about ner, came 
 out and started down the road. Occasionally she 
 raised her voice and shouted David s name, but 
 still she, got no reply, and her anxiety soon changed 
 into alarm, and she was hurrying along, almost in 
 a run. In this way she climbed the long ascent 
 which the road made from the lake shore; and when 
 
 334 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 she had reached the top of it she gathered her 
 breath and shouted once more, louder and more ex 
 citedly than ever. 
 
 This time she heard the expected reply, and found 
 that David was only a few rods ahead of her. "What 
 is the matter?" she called to him, and as he answered 
 that it was nothing, but to come to him, she ran on 
 more alarmed than ever. 
 
 There was just light enough for her to see that 
 David was bending down ; ind then as she got very 
 near she saw that on the ground in front of him 
 was lying a dark, shadowy form. As Helen cried 
 out again to know what was the matter, her hus 
 band said, "Do not be frightened, dear; it is only 
 some poor woman that I have found here by the 
 roadside." 
 
 "A woman!" the girl echoed in wonder, at the 
 same time giving a gasp of relief at the discovery 
 that her husband was not in trouble. Where in 
 the world can she have come from, David?" 
 
 "I do not know," he answered, "but she probably 
 wandered off the main road. It is some poor, 
 wretched creature, Helen; she has been drinking, 
 and is quite helpless." 
 
 And Helen stood still in horror, while David 
 arose and came to her. "You are out of breath, 
 dear," he exclaimed, "why did you come so fast?" 
 
 Oh, I was so frightened!" the girl panted. "I 
 cannot tell you, David, what happens in my heart 
 whenever I think of your coming to any harm. It 
 was dreadful, for I knew something serious must 
 be the matter." 
 
 David put his arm about her and kissed her to 
 
 335 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 quiet her fears; then he said, "You ought not to 
 have come out, dear; but be calm now, for there is 
 nothing to worry you, only we must take care of 
 this poor woman. It is such a sad sight, Helen; I 
 wish that you had not come here." 
 
 "What were you going to do?" asked the girl, 
 forgetting herself quickly in her sympathy. 
 
 "I meant to come down and tell you," was David s 
 reply; "and then go back to town and get someone 
 to come and take her away." 
 
 "But, David, you can never get back over that 
 i*ough road in the darkness!" exclaimed Helen in 
 alarm; "it is too far for you to walk, even in the 
 daytime I will not let you do it, you must not!" 
 
 "But dear, this poor creature cannot be left here; 
 it will be a bitter cold night, and she might die." 
 
 Helen was silent for a moment in thought, and 
 then she said in a low, trembling voice: "David, 
 there is only one thing to do." 
 
 "What is that, dear?" asked the other. 
 
 "W^e will have to take her home with us." 
 
 "Do you know what you are saying?" asked the 
 other with a start; "that would be a fearful thing 
 to do, Helen." 
 
 "I cannot help it," she replied, "it is the only 
 thing. And it would be wicked not to be willing 
 to do that, because she is a woman." 
 
 "She is in a fearful way, dear," said the other, 
 hesitatingly; "and to ask you to take care of 
 her 
 
 "I would do anything sooner than let you take 
 that walk in such darkness as this!" was the girl s 
 
 336 
 

 
 
MIDAS 
 
 <l uiet ll id, "You ought not to 
 
 hav . M- calm now, for thei 
 
 m)tl >nly we must take care of 
 
 h a sad sight, Helen; I 
 
 do?" asked the girl, 
 
 upathy. 
 
 J tell yon," was David s 
 "ineone 
 
 hat 
 POOF < i ,t be lef 
 
 ^ 
 
 " 
 
 ornent in thought, and 
 trembling voice: u David, 
 lo." 
 
 ! the other. 
 home with us. 
 
 asked the 
 
 arful thing 
 to do, 
 
 "* the only 
 
 thing. And 
 
 to do ti 
 
 "She is in ot her, 
 
 hesitatingly of 
 her - " 
 
 [ would do a >a ^ a ^ e 
 
 that walk in such darki; ,, e girl s 
 
 336 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 reply; and with that statement she silenced all of 
 his objections. 
 
 And so at last David pressed her hand, and whis 
 pered, "Very well, dear, God will bless you for it." 
 Then for a while the two stood in silence, until 
 Helen asked, "Do you think that we can carry her, 
 poor creature?" 
 
 "We may try it," the other replied; and Helen 
 went and knelt by the prostrate figure. The woman 
 was muttering to herself, but she seemed to be 
 quite dazed, and not to know what was going on 
 about her. Helen did not hesitate any longer, but 
 bent over and strove to lift her; the woman was 
 fortunately of a slight build, and seemed to be very 
 thin, so that with David s help it was easy to raise 
 her to her feet. It was a fearful task none the less, 
 for the poor wretch was foul with the mud in which 
 she had been lying, and her wet hair was streaming 
 over her shoulders; as Helen strove to lift her up 
 the head sunk over upon her, but the girl bit her 
 lips together grimly. She put her arm about the 
 woman s waist, and David did the same on the other 
 side, and so the three started, stumbling slowly 
 along in the darkness. 
 
 "Are you sure that it is not too much for you?" 
 David asked; "we can stop whenever you like, 
 Helen." 
 
 "No, let us go on," the girl said; "she has almost 
 no weight, and we must not leave her out here in 
 the cold. Her hands are almost frozen now." 
 
 They soon made their way on down to where the 
 lights of the little cottage shone through the trees. 
 David could not but shrink back as he thought of 
 
 22 337 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 taking their wretched burden into their little home, 
 but he heard the woman groan feebly, and he was 
 ashamed of his thought. Nothing more was said 
 until they had climbed the steps, not without diffi 
 culty, and had deposited their burden upon the floor 
 of the sitting room; after which David rose and 
 sank back into a chair, for the strain had been a 
 heavy one for him. 
 
 Helen also sprang up as she gazed at the figure; 
 the woman was foul with every misery that disease 
 and sin can bring upon a human creature, her cloth 
 ing torn to shreds and her face swollen and stained. 
 She was half delirious, and clawing about her with 
 her shrunken, quivering hands, so that Helen ex 
 claimed in horror: "Oh God, that is the most 
 dreadful sight I have ever seen in my life!" 
 
 "Come away," said the other, raising himself 
 from the chair; "it is not right that you should look 
 at such things." 
 
 But with Helen it was only a moment before her 
 pity had overcome every other emotion; she knelt 
 down by the stranger and took one of the cold 
 hands and began chafing it. "Poor, poor woman!" 
 she exclaimed; a oh, what misery you must have 
 suffered! David, what can a woman do to be pun 
 ished like this? It is fearful!" 
 
 It was a strange picture which the two made at 
 that moment, the woman in her cruel misery, and 
 the girl in her pure and noble beauty. But Helen 
 had no more thought of shrinking, for all her soul 
 had gone out to the unfortunate stranger, and she 
 kept on trying to bring her back to consciousness. 
 "Oh, David," she said, "what can we do to help 
 
 338 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her? It is too much that any human being should 
 be like this, she would have died if we had not 
 found her." And then as tin- other opened her eyes 
 and struggled to lift herself, Helen caught an inco 
 herent word and said, "I think she is thirsty, David; 
 get some water and perhaps that will help her. We 
 must find some way to comfort her, for this is too 
 horrible to be. And perhaps it is not her fault, you 
 know, who knows but perhaps some man may have 
 been the cause of it all? Is it not dreadful to think 
 of, David?" 
 
 So the girl went on; her back was turned to her 
 husband, and she was engrossed in her task of 
 mercy, and did not see what he was doing. She did 
 not see that he had started forward in his chair and 
 was staring at the woman; she did not see him lean 
 ing forward, farther and farther, with a strange 
 look upon his face. But there was something she 
 did see at last, as the woman lifted herself again 
 and stared first at Helen s own pitying face, and 
 then vaguely about the room, and last of all gazing 
 at David. Suddenly she stretched out her arms to 
 him and strove to rise, with a wild cry that made 
 Helen leap back in consternation: "David! It s 
 David!" 
 
 And at the same instant David sprang up with 
 what was almost a scream of horror; he reeled and 
 staggered backwards against the wall, clutching 
 with his hands at his forehead, his face a ghastly, 
 ashen gray; and as Helen sprang up and ran to 
 wards him, he sank down upon his knees with n 
 moan, gazing up into the air with a look of agony 
 
 339 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 upon his face. "My God! My God!" he gasped; 
 "it is my Mary!" 
 
 And Helen sank down beside him, clutching him 
 by the arm, and staring at him in terror. "David, 
 David!" she whispered, in a hoarse voice. But the 
 man seemed not to hear her, so overwhelmed was 
 he by his own emotion. "It is Mary," he cried out 
 again, "it is my Mary! oh God, have mercy upon 
 my soul!" And then a shudder passed over him, 
 and he buried his face in his arms and fell down 
 upon the floor, with Helen, almost paralyzed with 
 fright, still clinging to him. 
 
 In the meantime the woman had still been 
 stretching out her trembling arms to him, crying 
 his name again and again; as she sank back ex 
 hausted the man started up and rushed toward her, 
 clutching her by the hand, and exclaiming fran 
 tically, "Mary, Mary, it is I speak to me!" But 
 the other s delirium seemed to have returned, and 
 she only stared at him blankly. At last David stag 
 gered to his feet and began pacing wildly up and 
 down, hiding his face in his hands, and crying help 
 lessly, "Oh, God, that this should come to me now! 
 Oh, how can I bear it oh, Mary, Mary!" 
 
 He sank down upon the sofa again and burst into 
 fearful sobbing; Helen, who had still been kneeling 
 where he left her, rushed toward him and flung her 
 arms about him, crying out, "David, David, what is 
 the matter? David, you will kill me; what is it?" 
 
 And he started and stared at her wildly, clutch 
 ing her arm. "Helen," he gasped, "listen to me! I 
 ruined that woman! Do you hear me? do you hear 
 me? It was I who betrayed her I who made her 
 
 340 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 what she is! / // Oh, leave me, leave ine alone 
 
 oh, what can I do?" 
 
 Then as the girl still clung to him, sobbing his 
 name in terror, the man went on, half beside him 
 self with his grief, "Oh, think of it oh, how can I 
 bear to know it and live? Twenty-three years ago, 
 and it comes back to curse me now! And all 
 these years I have been living and forgetting it 
 and been happy, and talking of my goodness oh 
 < lod, and this fearful madness upon the earth! And 
 I made it I and she has had to pay for it! Oh, 
 look at her, Helen, look at her think that that 
 foulness is mine! She was beautiful, she was 
 pure, and she might have been happy, she would 
 have been good, but for me! Oh God in heaven, 
 where can I hide myself, what can I do?" 
 
 Helen was still clutching at his arm, crying to 
 him, "David, spare me!" He flung her otf in a mad 
 frenzy, holding her at arm s length, and staring 
 at her with a fearful light in his eyes. "Girl, girl!" 
 he cried, "do you know who I am do you know 
 what I have done? This girl was like you once, and 
 I made her love me made her love me with the 
 sacred fire that God had given me, made her love 
 me as I made you love me! And she was beautiful 
 like you she was younger than you, and as happy 
 as you ! And she trusted me as you trusted me, she 
 gave herself to me as you did, and I took her, and 
 promised her my love and now look at her! Can 
 you wish to be near me, can you wish to see me? 
 Oh, Helen, I cannot bear myself oh, leave me, I 
 must die!" 
 
 He sank down once more, weeping, all his form 
 
 34i 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 shaking with his grief; Helen flung her arms about 
 his neck again, but the man seemed to forget her 
 presence. "Oh, think where that woman has been," 
 he moaned; "think what she has seen, and done, 
 and suffered and what she is! Was there ever 
 such a wreck of womanhood, ever such a curse upon 
 earth? And, oh, for the years that she has lived in 
 her fearful sin, and I have been happy great God, 
 what can I do for those years, how can I live and 
 gaze upon this crime of mine? I, who sought for 
 beauty, to have made this madness; and it comes 
 now to curse me, now, when it is too late; when the 
 life is wrecked, when it is gone forever!" 
 
 David s voice had sunk into a moan; and then 
 suddenly he heard the woman crying out, and he 
 staggered to his feet. She was sitting up again, 
 her arms stretched out; David caught her in his 
 own, gazing into her face and crying, "Mary, Mary! 
 Look at me! Here I am I am David, the David 
 you loved." 
 
 He stopped, gasping for breath, and the woman 
 cried in a faint voice, "Water, water!" David 
 turned and called to Helen, and the poor girl, tho 
 scarcely able to stand, ran to get a glass of it; an 
 other thought came to the man in the meantime, 
 and he turned to the other with a sudden cry. "If 
 there were a child!" he gasped, "a child of mine 
 somewhere in the world, alone and helpless!" He 
 stared into the woman s eyes imploringly. 
 
 She was gazing at him, choking and trying to 
 speak; she seemed to be making an effort to under 
 stand him, and as David repeated his agonizing 
 question she gave a sign of assent, causing a still 
 
 342 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 wilder look to cross the man s faro. He called to 
 IKT again to tell him where; hut the woman seenn-d 
 to be sinking back into her raving, and she only 
 gasprd faintly again for water. 
 
 When Helen brought it they poured it down her 
 throat, and then David repeated his question once 
 more; but he gave a groan as he saw that it was all 
 in vain; the wild raving had begun again, and the 
 woman only stared at him blankly, until at last 
 the wretched man, quite overcome, sank down at 
 her side and buried his head upon her shrunken 
 bosom and cried like a child, poor Helen in the 
 meantime clinging to him still. 
 
 It was only when David had quite worn himself 
 out that he seemed to hear her pleading voice; then 
 he looked at her, and for the first time through his 
 own grief caught sight of hers. There was such 
 a look of helpless woe upon Helen s face that he 
 put out his hand to her and whispered faintly, "Oh, 
 poor little girl, what have you done that you should 
 suffer so?" As Helen drew closer to him, clinging 
 to his hand in fright, he went on, "Can you ever 
 forgive me for this horror forgive me that I dared 
 to forget it, that I dared to marry you?" 
 
 The girl s answer was a faint moan, David, David, 
 have mercy on me!" He gazed at her for a moment, 
 reading still more of her suffering. 
 
 "Helen," he asked, "you see what has come upon 
 me can you ask me not to be wretched, can you 
 ask me still to live? What can I do for such a 
 crime, when I look at this wreck of a soul, what 
 comfort can I hope to find?" And the girl, her 
 heart bursting with grief, could only clasp his 
 
 343 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 hands in hers and gaze into his eyes; there was no 
 word she could think of to say to him, and so for a 
 long time the two remained in silence, David again 
 fixing his eyes upon the woman, who seemed to be 
 sinking into a kind of stupor. 
 
 When he looked up once more it was because 
 Helen was whispering in his ear, a new thought 
 having come to her, "David, perhaps / might be able 
 to help you yet." 
 
 The man replied in a faint, gasping voice, "Help 
 me? How?" And the girl answered, "Come with 
 me,"" and rose weakly to her feet, half lifting him 
 also. He gazed at the woman and saw that she 
 was lying still, and then he did as Helen asked. 
 She led him gently into the other room, away from 
 the fearful sight, and the two sat down, David limp 
 and helpless, so that he could only sink down in 
 her arms with a groan. "Poor, poor David," she 
 whispered, in a voice of infinite pity; "oh, my poor 
 David!" 
 
 "Then you do not scorn me, Helen?" the man 
 asked in a faint, trembling voice, and went on 
 pleading with her, in words so abject and so 
 wretched that they wrung the girl s heart more 
 than ever. 
 
 "David, how can you speak to me so?" she cried, 
 "you who are all my life?" And then she added 
 with swift intensity, Listen to me, David, it can 
 not be so bad as that, I know it! Will you not tell 
 me, David? Tell me all, so that I may help you!" 
 So she went on pleading with him gently, until at 
 last the man spoke again, in faltering words. 
 
 "Helen," he said, "I was only a boy; God knows 
 
 344 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 that is one excuse, if it is the only one. I was only 
 seventeen, and she was no more." 
 
 "Who was she, David?" the girl asked. 
 
 "She lived in a village across the mountains from 
 here, near where our home used to be. She was a 
 farmer s daughter, and she was beautiful oh, to 
 think that that woman was once a beautiful girl, 
 and innocent and pure! But we were young, we 
 loved each other, and we had no one to warn us; 
 it was so long ago that it seems like a dream to me 
 now, but we sinned, and I took her for mine; then 
 I went home to tell my father, to tell him that she 
 was my wife, and that I must marry her. And oh, 
 God, she was a farmer s daughter, and I was a rich 
 man s son, and the cursed world knows nothing of 
 human souls! And I must not marry her I found 
 all the world in arms against it " 
 
 "And you let yourself be persuaded?" asked the 
 girl, in a faint whisper. 
 
 "Persuaded?" echoed David, his voice shaking; 
 "who would have thought of persuading a mad boy? 
 I let myself be commanded and frightened into sub 
 mission, and carried away. And then five or six 
 miserable months passed away and I got a letter 
 from her, and she was with child, and she was 
 ruined forever, she prayed to me in words that 
 have haunted me night and day all my life, to come 
 to her and keep my promise." 
 
 And David stopped and gave a groan; the other 
 whispered, "You could not go?" 
 
 "I went," he answered; "I borrowed money, 
 begged it from one of my father s servants, and ran 
 
 345 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 away and went up there; and oh, I was two days 
 too late!" 
 
 Too late?" exclaimed Helen wonderingly. 
 
 "Yes, yes," was the hoarse reply, "for she was a 
 weak and helpless girl, and scorned of all the world; 
 and her parents had turned her away, and she was 
 gone, no one knew where. Helen, from that day 
 to this I have never seen her, nor ever heard of 
 her; and now she comes to curse me, to curse my 
 soul forever. And it is more than I can bear, more 
 than I can bear!" 
 
 David sank down again, crying out, "It is too 
 much, it is too much!" But then suddenly he 
 caught his wife s hand in his and stared up at her, 
 exclaiming, "And she said there was a child, Helen! 
 Somewhere in the world there is another soul suf 
 fering for this sin of mine! Oh, somehow we must 
 find out about that something must be done, I 
 could not have two such fearful things to know of. 
 We must find out, we must find out!" 
 
 As the man stopped and stared wildly about him 
 he heard the woman s voice again, and sprang up; 
 but Helen, terrified at his suffering, caught him by 
 the arm, whispering, "No, no, David, let me go in, 
 I can take care of her." And she forced her hus 
 band down on the sofa once more, and then ran into 
 the next room. She found the woman again strug 
 gling to raise herself upon her trembling arms, 
 staring about her and calling out incoherently. 
 Helen rushed to her and took her hands in hers, 
 trying to soothe her again. 
 
 But the woman staggered to her feet, oblivious 
 of everything about her. "Where is he? Where is 
 
 346 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 he?" she gasped hoarsely; "he will come back!" 
 She began calling David s name, and a moment 
 later, as Helen tried to keep her quiet, she tore her 
 hands loose and rushed blindly across the room, 
 shrieking louder yet, "David, where are you? Don t 
 you know me, David?" 
 
 As Helen turned she saw that her husband had 
 heard the cries and come to the doorway again; but 
 it was all in vain, for the woman, though she looked 
 at him, knew him no more; it was to a phantom 
 of her own brain that she was calling, in the mean 
 time pacing up and down, her voice rising higher 
 and higher. She was reeling this way and that, and 
 Helen, frightened at her violence, strove to re 
 strain her, only to be flung off as if she had been a 
 child; the woman rushed on, groping about her 
 blindly and crying still, "David! Tell me where is 
 David*!" 
 
 Then as David and Helen stood watching her 
 in helpless misery her delirious mood changed, and 
 she clutched her hands over her bosom, and shud 
 dered, and moaned to herself, "It is cold, oh, it is 
 cold!" Afterwards she burst into frantic sobbing, 
 that choked her and shook all her frame; and again 
 into wild peals of laughter; and then last of all she 
 stopped and sprang back, staring in front of her 
 with her whole face a picture of agonizing fright; 
 she gave one wild scream after another and stag 
 gered and sank down at last upon the floor. "Oh, 
 it is he, it is he!" she cried, her voice sinking into a 
 shudder; "oh, spare me, why should you beat me? 
 Oh God, have mercy have mercy!" Her cries rose 
 again into a shriek that made Helen s blood run 
 
 347 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 cold; she looked in terror at her husband, and saw 
 that his face was white; in the meantime the 
 wretched woman had flung herself down prostrate 
 upon the floor, where she lay groveling and writh 
 ing. 
 
 That again, however, was only for a minute or 
 two; she staggered up once more and rushed blindly 
 across the room, crying, "I cannot bear it, I cannot 
 bear it! Oh, what have I done?" Then suddenly 
 as she flung up her arms imploringly and staggered 
 blindly on, she lurched forward and fell, striking 
 her head against the corner of the table. 
 
 Helen started forward with a cry of alarm, but 
 before she had taken half a dozen steps the woman 
 had raised herself to her feet once more, and was 
 staring at her, blinded by the blood which poured 
 from a cut in her forehead. Her clothing was torn 
 half from her, and her tangled hair streamed from 
 her shoulders; she was a ghastly sight to behold, as, 
 delirious with terror, she began once more rushing 
 this way and that about the room. The two who 
 watched her were powerless to help her, and could 
 only drink in the horror of it all and shudder, as 
 with each minute the poor creature became more 
 frantic and more desperate. All the while it was 
 evident that her strength was fast leaving her; she 
 staggered more and more, and at last she sank 
 down upon her knees. She strove to rise again and 
 found that she could not, but lurched and fell upon 
 the floor; as she turned over and Helen saw her 
 face, the sight was too much for the girl s self-con 
 trol, and she buried her face in her hands and broke 
 into frantic sobbing. 
 
 348 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 David in the meantime was crouching in the door 
 way, his gaze fixed upon the woman; he did not 
 seem even to notice Helen s outburst, so lost was all 
 his soul in the other sight. lie saw that the stran 
 ger s convulsive efforts were weakening, and he 
 staggered forward with a cry, and flung himself 
 forward down on his knees beside her. "Mary, 
 Mary!" he called; but she did not heed him, tho 
 he clasped her hands and shook her, gazing into 
 her face imploringly. Her eyes were fixed upon 
 him, but it was with a vacant stare; and then sud 
 denly he started back with a cry of horror "Great 
 God, she is dying!" 
 
 The woman made a sudden fearful effort to lift 
 herself, struggling and gasping, her face distorted 
 with fierce agony; as it failed she sank back, and 
 lay panting hard for breath; then a shudder passed 
 over her, and while David still stared, transfixed, 
 a hoarse rattle came from her throat, and her 
 features became suddenly set in their dreadful 
 passion. In a moment more all was still; and David 
 buried his face in his hands and sank down upon 
 the corpse, without even a moan. 
 
 Afterwards, for a full minute there was not a 
 sound in the room; Helen s sobbing had ceased, she 
 had looked up and sat staring at the two figures, 
 until at last, with a sudden start of fright she 
 sprang up and crept silently toward them. She 
 glanced once at the woman s body, and then bent 
 over David; as she felt that his heart was still beat 
 ing, she caught him to her bosom, and knelt thus in 
 terror, staring first into his white and tortured 
 features, and then at the body on the floor. 
 
 349 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Finally, however, she nerved herself, and tho 
 she was trembling and exhausted, staggered to her 
 feet with her burden; holding it tightly in her arms 
 she went step by step, slowly and in silence out of 
 the room. When she had passed into the next one 
 she shut the door and, sinking down upon the sofa, 
 lifted David s broken figure beside her and locked 
 it in her arms and was still. Thus she sat without 
 a sound or a motion, her heart within her torn with 
 fear and pain, all through the long hours of that 
 night; when the cold, white dawn came up, she was 
 still pressing him to her bosom, sobbing and whis 
 pering faintly, "Oh, David! Oh, my poor, poor 
 David! 7 
 
 Hast du im Ve - nus burg ge-weilt, 
 
 e - wig du ver dammt ! 
 
 3-5" 
 
 330 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 "Then said I, Woe is me! For I am undone; ... for mine 
 yes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts. " 
 
 DAVID S servant drove out early upon the follow 
 ing morning to tell him of a strange woman who 
 had been asking for him in the village; they sent 
 the man buck for a doctor, and it was found that 
 the poor creature was really dead. 
 
 They wished to take the body away, but David 
 would not have it; and so, late in the afternoon, a 
 grave was dug by the lake-shore near the little 
 cottage, and what was left of Mary was buried 
 there. David was too exhausted to leave the house, 
 and Helen would not stir from his side, so the two 
 sat in silence until the ceremony was over, and the 
 men had gone. The servant went with them, be 
 cause the girl said they wished to be alone; and 
 then the house settled down to its usual quietness, 
 a quietness that frightened Helen now. 
 
 For when she looked at her husband her heart 
 scarcely beat for her terror; he was ghastly white, 
 and his lips were trembling, and though he had 
 not shed a tear all the day, there was a look of 
 mournful despair on his face that told more fear 
 fully than any words how utterly the soul within 
 him was beaten and crushed. All that day he had 
 been so, and as Helen remembered the man that 
 
 35i 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 had been before so strong and eager and brave, her 
 whole soul stood still with awe; yet as before she 
 could do nothing but cling to him, and gaze at 
 him with bursting heart. 
 
 But at last when the hours had passed and not 
 a move had been made, she asked him faintly, 
 "David, is there no hope? Is it to be like this 
 always?" 
 
 The man raised his eyes and gazed at her help 
 lessly. "Helen," he said, his voice sounding hollow 
 and strange, "what can you ask of me? How can 
 I bear to look about me again, how can I think of 
 living? Oh, that night of horror! Helen, it burns 
 my brain it tortures my soul it will drive me 
 mad!" He buried his face in his hands again, 
 shaking with emotion. "Oh, I cannot ever forget 
 it," he whispered hoarsely; "it must haunt me, 
 haunt me until I die! I must know that after all 
 my years of struggle it was this that I made, it is 
 this that stands for my life and it is over, and gone 
 from me forever and finished! Oh, God, was there 
 ever such a horror flashed upon a guilty soul ever 
 such fiendish torture for a man to bear? And 
 Helen, there was a child, too think how that 
 thought must goad me a child of mine, and I can 
 not ever aid it it must suffer for its mother s 
 shame. And think, if it were a woman, Helen 
 this madness must go on, and go on forever! Oh, 
 where am I to hide me; and what can I do?" 
 
 There came no tears, but only a fearful sobbing; 
 poor Helen whispered frantically, "David, it was 
 not your fault, you could not help it surely you 
 cannot be to blame for all this." 
 
 352 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 He did not answer her, but after a long silence 
 he went on in a deep, low voice, "Helen, she was so 
 beautiful! She has lived in my thoughts all these 
 years as the figure that I used to see, so bright and 
 so happy; I used to hear her singing in church, 
 and the music was a kind of madness to me, be 
 cause I knew that she loved me. And her home 
 was a little farm-house, half buried in great trees, 
 and I used to see her there with her flowers. Now 
 oh, think of her now think of her life of shame 
 and agony think of her turned away from her 
 home, and from all she loved in the world, deserted 
 and scorned, and helpless think of her with child, 
 and of the agony of her degradation! What must 
 she not have suffered to be as she was last night 
 oh, are there tears enough in the world to pay for 
 such a curse, for that twenty years burden of 
 wretchedness and sin? And she was beaten oh, 
 she was beaten Mary, my poor, poor Mary! And 
 to die in such horror, in drunkenness and madness! 
 And now she is gone, and it is over; and oh, why 
 should I live, what can I do?" 
 
 His voice dropped into a moan, and then again 
 there was a long silence. At last Helen whispered, 
 in a weak, trembling voice, "David, you have still 
 love; can that be nothing to you?" 
 
 "I have no right to love," he groaned, "no right 
 to love, and I never had any. For oh, all my life 
 this vision has haunted me I knew that nothing 
 but death could have saved her from shame! Yes, 
 and I knew, too, that some day I must find her. I 
 have carried the terror of that in my heart all these 
 years. Yet I dared to take your love, and dared to 
 
 23 353 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 fly from my sin; and then there comes this thunder 
 bolt oh, merciful heaven, it is too much to bear, 
 too much to bear! He sank down again; poor Helen 
 could find no word of comfort, no utterance of her 
 own bursting heart except the same frantic clasp 
 of her love. 
 
 So the day went by over that shattered life; and 
 each hour the man s despair grew more black, his 
 grief and misery more hopeless. The girl watched 
 him and followed him about as if she had been a 
 child, but she could get him to take no food, and 
 to divert his mind to anything else she dared not 
 even try. He would sit for hours writhing in his 
 torment, and then again he would spring up and 
 pace the room in agitation, though he was too weak 
 to bear that very long. Afterwards the long night 
 came on, and all through it he lay tossing and 
 moaning, sometimes shuddering in a kind of parox 
 ysm of grief, Helen, though she was weary and 
 almost fainting, watching thro the whole night, 
 her heart wild with her dread. 
 
 And so the morning came, and another day of 
 misery; and in the midst of it David flung himself 
 down upon the sofa and buried his face in his arms 
 and cried out, "Oh God, my God, I cannot stand it, 
 I cannot stand it! Oh, let me die! I dare not lift 
 my head there is no hope for me there is no 
 life for me I dare not pray! It is more than 
 I can bear I am beaten, I am lost forever!" And 
 Helen fell down upon her knees beside him, and tore 
 away his hands from his face and stared at him 
 frantically, exclaiming, "David, it is too cruel! Oh, 
 have mercy upon me, David, if you love me!" 
 
 354 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 He stopped and gazed long and earnestly into 
 her face, and a look of infinite pity came into his 
 v s; at last he whispered, in a low voice, "Poor, 
 poor little Helen; oh, Helen, God help you, what 
 can I do?" He paused and afterwards went on 
 tremblingly, "What have you done that you should 
 suffer like this? You are right that it is too cruel 
 it is another curse that I have to bear! For I knew 
 that I was born to suffering I knew that my life 
 was broken and dying and yet I dared to take 
 yours into it! And now, what can I do to save you, 
 Helen; can you not see that I dare not live?" 
 
 "David, it is you who are killing yourself," the 
 girl moaned in answer. He did not reply, but there 
 came a long, long silence, in which he seemed to 
 be sinking still deeper; and when he went on it 
 was in a shuddering voice that made Helen s heart 
 stop. "Oh, it is no use," he gasped, "it is no use! 
 Listen, Helen, there was another secret that I kept 
 from you, because it was too fearful; but I can keep 
 it no more, I can fight no more!" 
 
 He stopped; the girl had clutched his arm, and 
 was staring into his face, whispering his name 
 hoarsely. At last he went on in his cruel despair, 
 "I knew this years ago, too, and I knew that I was 
 bringing it upon you the misery of this wretched, 
 dying body. Oh, it hurts it hurts now!" And he 
 put his hand over his heart, as a look of pain came 
 into his face. "It cannot stand much more, my 
 heart," he panted; "the time must come they told 
 me it would come years ago! And then and 
 then " 
 
 The man stopped, because he was looking at 
 
 355 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 Helen; she had not made a sound, but her face 
 had turned so white, and her lips were trembling 
 so fearfully that he dared not go on; she gave a 
 loud, choking cry and burst out wildly, "Oh, David 
 David it is fiendish you have no right to pun 
 ish me so! Oh, have mercy upon me, for you are 
 killing me! You have no right to do it, I tell you 
 it is a crime; you promised me your love, and if 
 you loved me you would live for my sake, you 
 would think of me! A thing so cruel ought not to 
 be it cannot be right God could never have meant 
 a human soul to suffer so! And there must be 
 pardon in the world, there must be light it can 
 not all be torture like this!" She burst into a 
 flood of tears and flung herself upon David s bosom, 
 sobbing again and again, "Oh, no, no, it is too 
 fearful, oh, save me, save me!" 
 
 He did not answer her; as she looked up at him 
 again she saw the same look of fearful woe, and 
 read the cruel fact that there was no help, that her 
 own grief and pleadings were only deepening the 
 man s wretchedness. She stared at him for a long 
 time; and when she spoke to him again it was with 
 a sudden start, and in a strange, ghastly voice, 
 "And then, David, there is no God?" 
 
 He trembled, but the words choked him as he 
 tried to respond, and his head dropped; then 
 at last she heard him moan, "Oh, how can God free 
 my soul from this madness, how can he deliver me 
 from such a curse?" Helen could say no more 
 could only cling to him and sob in her fright. 
 
 So the day passed away, and another night came; 
 and still the crushed and beaten soul was writhing 
 
 356 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 in its misery, lost in blackness and despair; and 
 still Helen read it all in his white and tortured 
 features, and drank the full cup of his soul s fiery 
 pain. 
 
 They took no heed of the time; but it was long 
 after darkness had fallen; and once when the girl 
 had gone upstairs for a moment she heard David 
 pacing about, arid then heard a stifled cry. She 
 rushed down, and stopped short in the doorway. 
 For the man was upon his knees, his face uplifted 
 in wild entreaty. "Oh God, oh merciful God!" he 
 sobbed; "all the days of my life I have sought for 
 righteousness, labored and suffered to keep my soul 
 alive! And oh, was it all for this was it to go 
 down in blackness and night, to die a beaten man, 
 crushed and lost? Oh, I cannot bear it, I cannot 
 bear it! It cannot it must not be!" 
 
 He sank forward upon the sofa, and buried his 
 head in his arms, and the girl could hear his breath 
 ing in the stillness; at last she crept across the 
 room and knelt down beside him, and whispered 
 softly in his ear, "You do not give me your heart 
 any more, David?" 
 
 It was a long time before he answered her, and 
 then it was to moan, "Oh, Helen, my heart is broken, 
 I can give it to no one. Once I had strength and 
 faith, and could love; but now I am lost and ruined, 
 and there is nothing that can save me. I dare not 
 live, and I dare not die, and I know not where to 
 turn!" 
 
 He started up suddenly, clasping his hands to his 
 forehead and staggering across the room, crying 
 out, "Oh no, it cannot be, oh, it cannot be! There 
 
 357 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 must be some way of finding pardon, some way of 
 winning Tightness for a soul! Oh God, what can I 
 do for peace?" But then again he sank down and 
 hid his face and sobbed out: "In the face of this 
 nightmare, with this horror fronting me! She 
 cried for pardon, and none came." 
 
 After that there was a long silence, with Helen 
 crouching in terror by his side. She heard him 
 groan: "It is all over, it is finished I can fight no 
 more," and then again came stillness, and when 
 she lifted him and gazed into his face she knew not 
 which was worse, the silent helpless despair that 
 was upon it, or the torment and the suffering that 
 had gone before. She tried still to soothe him, 
 begging and pleading with him to have mercy upon 
 her. He asked her faintly what he could do, and 
 the poor girl, seeing how weak and exhausted he 
 was, could think of only the things of the body, 
 and begged him to try to rest. "It has been two 
 nights since you have slept, David," she whispered. 
 
 "I cannot sleep with this burden upon my soul, v 
 he answered her; but still she pleaded with him, 
 begging him as he loved her; and he yielded to her 
 at last, and broken and helpless as he was, she 
 half carried him upstairs and laid him upon the 
 bed as if he had been a little child. That seemed to 
 help little, however, for he only lay tossing and 
 moaning, "Oh, God, it must end; I cannot bear it!" 
 
 Those were the last words Helen heard, for the 
 poor girl was exhausted herself, almost to fainting; 
 she lay down, without undressing, and her head 
 had scarcely touched the pillow before she was 
 asleep. In the meantime, through the long night- 
 
 358 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 watches David lay writhing and crying out for 
 help. 
 
 The moon rose dim and red behind the moun 
 tains, it had mounted high in the sky, and the 
 room was bright with it, when at last the man rose 
 from the bed and began swiftly pacing the room, 
 still muttering to himself. He sank down upon his 
 knees by the window and gazed up at the silent 
 moon. Then again he rose and turned suddenly, 
 and after a hurried glance at Helen went to the 
 door and passed out, closing it silently behind him, 
 and whispered to himself, half deliriously, "Oh, 
 great God, it must end! It must end!" 
 
 It was more than an hour afterwards that the girl 
 awakened from her troubled sleep; she lay for an 
 instant half dazed, trying to bring back to her mind 
 what had happened; and then she put out her hand 
 and discovered that her husband was no longer by 
 her. She sat up with a wild start, and at the same 
 instant her ear was caught by a sound outside, of 
 footsteps pacing swiftly back and forth, back and 
 forth, upon the piazza. The girl leaped up with 
 a stifled cry, and ran out of the room and down 
 the steps. The room below was still half lighted 
 by the flickering log-fire, and Helen s shadow loomed 
 up on the opposite wall as she rushed across the 
 room and opened the door. 
 
 The gray light of dawn was just spreading across 
 the lake, but the girl noticed only one thing, her 
 husband s swiftly moving figure. She rushed to 
 him, and as he heard her, he turned and stared at 
 her an instant as if dazed, and then staggered with 
 
 359 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 a cry into her arms. "David, David!" she exclaimed, 
 "what is the matter?" Then as she clasped him to 
 her she found that his body was trembling con 
 vulsively, and that his hand as she took it was hot 
 like fire; she called to him again in yet greater 
 anxiety: "David, David! What is it? You will 
 kill me if you treat me so!" 
 
 He answered her weakly, "Nothing, dear, noth 
 ing," and she caught him to her, and turned and 
 half carried him into the house. She staggered 
 into a chair with him, and then sat gazing in terror 
 at his countenance. For the man s forehead was 
 burning and moist, and his frame was shaking and 
 broken ; he was completely prostrated by the fearful 
 agitation that had possessed him. Helen cried to 
 him once more, but he could only pant, "Wait, 
 wait," and sink back and let his head fall upon her 
 arm; he lay with his eyes closed, breathing swiftly, 
 and shuddering now and then. "It was God!" he 
 panted with a sudden start, his voice choking; He 
 has shown me His face! He has set me free!" 
 
 Then again for a long time he lay with heaving 
 bosom, Helen whispering to him pleadingly, "David, 
 David!" As he opened his eyes, the girl saw a 
 wonderful look upon his face; and at last he began 
 speaking, in a low, shaking voice, and pausing often 
 to catch his breath: "Oh, Helen," he said, "it is all 
 gone, but I won, and my life s prayer has not been 
 for nothing! I was never so lost, so beaten; but all 
 the time there was a voice in my soul that cried to 
 me to fight, that there was glory enough in God s 
 home for even me! And oh, to-night it came it 
 came!" 
 
 360 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 David sank back, and there was a long silence 
 before he went on: "It was wonderful, Helen," he 
 whispered, "there has come nothing like it to me 
 in all my life; for I had never drunk such sorrow 
 before, never known such fearful need. It seems 
 as if all the pent-up forces of my nature broke 
 loose in one wild, fearful surge, as if there was a 
 force behind me like a mighty, driving storm, that 
 swept me on and away, beyond self and beyond 
 time, and out into the life of things. It was like 
 the surging of fierce music, it was the great ocean 
 of the infinite bursting its way into my heart. And 
 it bore me on, so that I was mad with it, so that 
 F knew not where I was, only that I was panting 
 for breath, and that I could bear it no more and 
 cried out in pain!" 
 
 David as he spoke had been lifting himself, the 
 memory of his vision taking hold of him once more; 
 but then he sank down again and whispered, "Oh, 
 I have no more strength, I can do no more; but it 
 was God, and I am free!" 
 
 He lay trembling and breathing fast again, but 
 sinking back from his effort and closing his eyes 
 exhaustedly. After a long time he went on in a 
 faint voice, "I suppose if I had lived long ago that 
 would have been a vision of God s heaven; and yet 
 there was not an instant of it even when I fell 
 down upon the ground and when I struck my hands 
 upon the stones because they were numb and burn 
 ing when I did not know just what it was, the 
 surging passion of my soul flung loose at last! It 
 was like the voices of the stars and the mountains, 
 that whisper of That which is and which conquers, 
 
 361 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of That which conquers without sound or sign; 
 Helen, I thought of that wonderful testament of 
 Pascal s that has haunted me all my lifetime, 
 those strange, wild, gasping words of a soul gone 
 mad with awe, and beyond all utterance except a 
 cry, Joy, joy, tears of joy! And I thought of a 
 still more fearful story, I thought that it must have 
 been such thunder-music that rang through the 
 soul of the Master and swept Him away beyond 
 scorn and pain, so that the men about Him seemed 
 like jeering phantoms that He might scatter with 
 His hand, before the glory of vision in which it 
 was all one to live or die. Oh, it is that which has 
 brought me my peace! God needs not our 
 help, but only our worship; and beside His glory 
 all our guilt is nothing, and there is no madness like 
 our fear. And oh, if we can only hold to that and 
 
 fight for it, conquer all temptation and all pain 
 
 all fear because we must die, and cease to be " 
 
 The man had clenched his hands again, and was 
 lifting himself with the wild look upon his counte 
 nance; he seemed to the girl to be delirious, and 
 she was shuddering, half with awe and half with 
 terror. She interrupted him in a sudden burst of 
 alarm: "Yes, yes, but David, David, not now, not 
 now it is too much you will kill yourself!" 
 
 "I can die," he panted, "I can die, but I cannot 
 ever be mastered again, never again be blind! Oh, 
 Helen, all my life I have been lost and beaten 
 beaten by my weakness and my fear; but this once, 
 this once I was free, this once I knew, and I lived; 
 and now I can die rejoicing! Listen to me, Helen; 
 while I am here there can be no more delaying, 
 
 362 
 
KING MIDAS; 
 
 no more weakness! Such sin and doubt as that 
 of yesterday must never conquer my soul again, I 
 will not any more be at the mercy of chance. I 
 love you, Helen, God knows that I love you with 
 all my soul; and this much for love I will do, if 
 God spares me a day, take you, and tear the heart 
 out of you, if need be, but only teach you to live, 
 teach you to hold by this Truth. It is a fearful 
 thing, Helen; it is madness to me to know that at 
 any instant I may cease to be, and that you may 
 be left alone in your terror and your weakness. 
 Oh, look at me, look at me! There is no more 
 tempting fate, there is no more shirking the battle 
 there is life, there is life to be lived! And it calls 
 to you now, now! And now you must win, cost 
 just what it may in blood and tears! You have the 
 choice between that and ruin, and before God you 
 shall choose the right! Listen to me, Helen it is 
 only prayer that can do it, it is only by prayer that 
 you can fight this fearful battle bring before you 
 this truth of the soul, and hold on to it, hold on 
 to it tho it kill you! For He was through all the 
 ages, His glory is of the skies; and we are but for 
 an instant, and we have to die; and this we must 
 know, or we are lost! There comes pain, and calls 
 you back to fear and doubt; and you fight oh, it is 
 a cruel fight, it is like a wild beast at your vitals, 
 but still you hold on you hold on!" 
 
 The man had lifted himself with a wild effort, his 
 hands clenched and his teeth set. He had caught 
 the girl s hands in his, and she screamed in fear: 
 "David, David! You will kill yourself!" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" he answered, and rushed on, chok- 
 
 363 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 ingly; it is coming just so; for I have just force 
 enough left to win just force enough to save you, 
 and then it will rend this frame of mine in two! 
 It comes like a clutch at my heart it blinds me, 
 and the sky seems to turn to fire " 
 
 He sank back with a gasp; Helen caught him to 
 her bosom, exclaiming frantically, "Oh, David, 
 spare me wait! Not now you cannot bear it 
 have mercy!" 
 
 He lay for a long time motionless, seemingly half 
 dazed; then he whispered faintly, "Yes, dear, yes; 
 let us wait. But oh, if you could know the terror 
 of another defeat, of sinking down and letting one s 
 self be bound in the old chains I must not lose, 
 Helen, I dare not fail!" 
 
 "Listen, David," whispered Helen, beginning sud 
 denly with desperate swiftness; "why should you 
 fail? Why can you not listen to me, pity me, wait 
 until you are strong? You have won, you will not 
 forget and is there no peace, can you not rest in 
 this faith, and fear no more?" The man seemed to 
 Helen to be half out of his mind for the moment; 
 she was trying to manage him with a kind of 
 frenzied cunning. As she w r ent on whispering and 
 imploring she saw that David s exhaustion was 
 gradually overcoming him more and more, and that 
 he was sinking farther and farther back from his 
 wild agitation. At last after she had continued 
 thus for a while he closed his eyes and began 
 breathing softly. "Yes, dear," he whispered; "yes; 
 I will be quiet. There has come to my soul to-night 
 a peace that is not for words; I can be still, and 
 know that He is God, and that He is holy." 
 
 364 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 His voice dropped lower each instant, the girl in 
 the meantime soothing him and stroking his fore 
 head and pleading with him in a shuddering voice, 
 her heart wild with fright. When at last he was quite 
 still, and the fearful vision, that had been like a 
 nightmare to her, was gone with all its storm and 
 its madness, she took him upon her lap, just as 
 she had done before, and sat there clasping him in 
 her arms while the time fled by unheeded. It was 
 long afterwards the sun was gleaming across the 
 lake and in at the window before at last her trem 
 bling prayer was answered, and he sank into an 
 exhausted slumber. 
 
 She sat watching him for a long time still, quite 
 white with fear and weariness; finally, however, 
 she rose, and carrying the frail body in her arms, 
 laid it quietly upon the sofa in the next room. She 
 knelt watching it for a time, then went out upon 
 the piazza, closing the door behind her. 
 
 And there the fearful tension that the dread of 
 wakening him had put upon her faculties gave way 
 at last, and the poor girl buried her face in her 
 hands, and sank down, sobbing convulsively: "Oh, 
 God, oh, God, what can I do, how can I bear it?" 
 She gazed about her wildly, exclaiming, "I cannot 
 stand it, and there is no one to help me! What 
 can I do?" 
 
 Perhaps it was the first real prayer that had ever 
 passed Helen s lips; but the burden of her sorrow 
 v. as too great just then for her to bear alone, even 
 in thought. She leaned against the railing of the 
 porch with her arms stretched out before her im 
 ploringly, her face uplifted, and the tears running 
 
 365 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 down her cheeks; she poured out one frantic cry, 
 the only cry that she could think of: "Oh, God, 
 have mercy upon me, have mercy upon me! I can 
 not bear it!" 
 
 So she sobbed on, and several minutes passed, 
 but there came to her no relief; when she thought 
 of David, of his breaking body and of his struggling 
 soul, it seemed to her as if she were caught in the 
 grip of a fiend, and that no power could save her. 
 She could only clasp her hands together and shud 
 der, and whisper, "What shall I do, what shall I 
 do?" 
 
 Thus it was that the time sped by; and the morn 
 ing sun rose higher in front of her, and shone down 
 upon the wild and wan figure that seemed like a 
 phantom of the night. She was still crouching in 
 the same position, her mind as overwrought and 
 hysterical as ever, when a strange and unexpected 
 event took place, one which seemed to her at first 
 in her state of fright like some delusion of her 
 mind. 
 
 Except for her own emotion, and for the faint 
 sound of the waves upon the shore, everything about 
 her had been still; her ear was suddenly caught, 
 however, by the noise of a footstep, and she turned 
 and saw the figure of a man coming down the path 
 from the woods; she started to her feet, gazing in 
 surprise. 
 
 It was broad daylight then, and Helen could see 
 the person plainly; she took only one glance, and 
 reeled and staggered back as if it were a ghost at 
 which she was gazing. She crouched by a pillar 
 of the porch, trembling like a leaf, and scarcely 
 
 366 
 
KINCv! MIDAS 
 
 able to keep her senses, leaning from side to side 
 and peering out, with her whole attitude expressive 
 of unutterable consternation, and even fright. At 
 last when she had gazed until it was no longer 
 possible for her to think that she was the victim of 
 madness, she stared suddenly up into the air, and 
 caught her forehead in her hands, at the same time 
 whispering to herself in an almost fainting voice: 
 "Great heaven, what can it mean? Can it be real 
 can it be true? It is Arthur!" 
 
 Fed. 
 
 367 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 I am Merlin 
 
 And I am dying, 
 "I am Merlin, 
 
 Who follow the Gleam." 
 
 HELEN stood gazing at the figure in utter con 
 sternation for at least half a minute before she 
 could find voice; then she bent forward and 
 called to him wildly "Arthur!" 
 
 It was the other s turn to be startled then, and he 
 staggered backward; as he gazed up at Helen his 
 look showed plainly that he too was half convinced 
 that he was gazing at a phantom of his own mind, 
 and for a long time he stood, pressing his hands to 
 his heart and unable to make a sound or a move 
 ment. When finally he broke the silence his voice 
 was a hoarse whisper. "Helen," he panted, "what 
 in heaven s name are you doinp here?" 
 
 And then as the girl answered, "This is my home, 
 Arthur," he gave another sta^t. 
 
 "You live here with Mm?" he gasped. 
 
 "With him?" echoed Helen in a low voice. "With 
 whom, Arthur?" 
 
 He answered, "With that Mr. Harrison." A look 
 of amazement crossed Helen s face, tho followed 
 quickly by a gleam of comprehension. She had 
 quite forgotten that Arthur knew nothing about 
 what she had done. 
 
 368 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 "Arthur," she said, "I did not marry Mr. Harri 
 son;" then, seeing that he was staring at her in still 
 greater wonder, she went on hastily: "It seems 
 strange to go back to those old days now; but once 
 I meant to tell you all about it, Arthur." She 
 paused for a moment and then went on slowly: 
 "All the time I was engaged to that man I was 
 wretched; and when I saw you the last time^ that 
 dreadful time by the road it was almost more 
 than I could bear; so I took back my wicked prom 
 ise of marriage and came to see you and tell you all 
 about it." 
 
 As the girl had been speaking the other had been 
 staring at her with a look upon his face that was 
 indescribable, a look that was more terror than 
 anything else; he had staggered back, he grasped 
 at a tree to support himself. Helen saw the look 
 and stopped, frightened herself. 
 
 "What is it, Arthur?" she cried; "what is the 
 matter?" 
 
 "You came to see me!" the other gasped 
 hoarsely. "You came to see me and I and I 
 was gone!" 
 
 "Yes, Arthur," said Helen; "you had gone the 
 night before, and I could not find you. Then I met 
 this man that I loved, and you wrote that you had 
 torn the thought of me from your heart; and 
 
 Again Helen stopped, for the man had sunk bark- 
 wards with a cry that made her heart leap in fright. 
 "Arthur!" she exclaimed, taking a step towards 
 him; and he answered her with a moan, stretching 
 
 24 369 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 out his arms to her. "Great God, Helen, that letter 
 was a lie!" 
 
 Helen stopped, rooted to the spot. "A lie?" she 
 whispered faintly. 
 
 "Yes, a lie!" cried the other with a sudden burst 
 of emotion, leaping up and starting towards her. 
 "Helen, I have suffered the tortures of hell! I 
 loved you I love you now!" 
 
 The girl sprang back, and the blood rushed to her 
 cheeks. Half instinctively she drew her light 
 dress more tightly about her; and the other saw the 
 motion and stopped, a look of despair crossing his 
 face. The two stood thus for fully a minute, staring 
 at each other wildly; then suddenly Arthur asked: 
 "You love this man whom you have married? You 
 love him?" 
 
 The girl answered, "Yes, I love him," and Ar 
 thur s arms dropped, and his head sank forward. 
 There was a look upon his face that tore Helen s 
 heart to see, so that for a moment or two she stood 
 quite dazed with this new terror. Then all at once, 
 however, the old one came back to her thoughts, 
 and with a faint cry she started toward her old 
 friend, stretching out her arms to him and calling to 
 him imploringly. 
 
 "Oh, Arthur," she cried, "have mercy upon me 
 do not frighten me any more! Arthur, if you only 
 knew what I have suffered, you would pity me, 
 you could not help it! You would not fling this 
 burden of your misery upon me too." 
 
 The man fixed his eyes upon her and for the first 
 time he seemed to become aware of the new Helen, 
 the Helen who had replaced the girl he had known. 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 He read in her ghastly white face some hint of what 
 she had been through, and his own look turned 
 quickly to one of wonder, and even awe. "Helen," 
 he whispered, "are you ill?" 
 
 "No, Arthur," she responded quickly, full of 
 desperate hope as she saw his change. "Not ill, 
 but oh, so frightened. I have been more wretched 
 than you can ever dream. Can you not help me, 
 Arthur, trill you not? I was almost despairing, I 
 thought that my heart would burst. Can you not 
 be unselfish?" 
 
 The man gazed at her at least a minute ; and when 
 he answered at last, it was in a low, grave voice 
 that was new to her. 
 
 "I will do it, Helen," he said. "What is it?" 
 
 The girl came toward him, her voice sinking. 
 "We must not let him hear us, Arthur," she whis 
 pered. Then as she gazed into his face she added 
 pathetically, "Oh, I cannot tell you how I have 
 wished that I might only have someone to sym 
 pathize with me and help me! I can tell everything 
 to you, Arthur." 
 
 "You are not happy with your husband?" asked 
 the other, in a wondering tone, not able to guess 
 what she meant. 
 
 "Happy!" echoed Helen. "Arthur, he is ill, and I 
 have been so terrified! I feared that he was going 
 to die; we have had such a dreadful sorrow." She 
 paused for a moment, and gazed about her swiftly, 
 and laying her finger upon her lips. "He is asleep 
 DOW," she went on, "asleep for the first time in 
 three nights, and I was afraid that we might waken 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 him; we must not make a sound, for it is so dread 
 ful." 
 
 She stopped, and the other asked her what was 
 the matter. "It was three nights ago," she con 
 tinued, "and oh, we were so happy before it! But 
 there came a strange woman, a fearful creature, 
 and she was drunk, and my husband found her and 
 brought her home. She was delirious, she died here 
 in his arms, while there was no one to help her. 
 The dreadful thing was that David had known this 
 woman when she was a girl- 
 Helen paused again, and caught her breath, for 
 she had been speaking very swiftly, shaken by the 
 memory of the scene; the other put in, in a low 
 tone, "I heard all about this woman s death, Helen, 
 and I know about her that was how I happen to 
 be here." 
 
 And the girl gave a start, echoing, "Why you 
 happen to be here?" Afterwards she added quickly, 
 "Oh, I forgot to ask you about that. What do you 
 mean, Arthur?" 
 
 He hesitated a moment before he answered her, 
 speaking very slowly. "It is so sad," Helen," he 
 said, "it is almost too cruel to talk about." He 
 stopped again, and the girl looked at him, wonder 
 ing; then he went on to speak one sentence that 
 struck her like a bolt of lightning from the sky: 
 "Helen, that poor woman was my mother!" 
 
 And Helen staggered back, almost falling, clutch 
 ing her hands to her forehead, and staring, half 
 dazed. 
 
 "Arthur," she panted, "Arthur!" 
 
 372 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 He bowed his head sadly, answering, "Yes, Helen, 
 it is dreadful 
 
 And the girl leaped towards him, seizing him by 
 the shoulders with a thrilling cry; she stared into 
 his eyes, her own glowing like fire. "Arthur!" she 
 gasped again, "Arthur!" 
 
 He only looked at her wonderingly, as if thinking 
 she was mad; until suddenly she burst out fran 
 tically, "You are David s child! You are David s 
 child!" And then for fully half a minute the two 
 stood staring at each other, too much dazed to move 
 or to make a sound. 
 
 At last Arthur echoed the words, scarcely 
 audibly, "David s child!" and added, "David is your 
 husband?" As Helen whispered "Yes" again, they 
 stood panting for breath. It was a long time before 
 the girl could find another word to speak, except 
 over and over, "David s child!" She seemed un 
 able to realize quite what it meant, she seemed 
 unable to put the facts together. 
 
 But then suddenly Arthur whispered: "Then it 
 was your husband who ruined that woman?" and 
 as Helen answered "Yes," she grasped a little of the 
 truth, and also of Arthur s thought. She ran on 
 swiftly: "But oh, it was not his fault, he was only 
 a boy, Arthur! And he wished to marry her, but 
 they would not let him I must tell you about 
 that!" Then she stopped short, however; and when 
 she went on it was in sudden wild joy that over 
 came all her other feelings, joy that gleamed in her 
 face and made her fling herself down upon her knees 
 before Arthur and clutch his hands in hers. 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "it was God who sent you, Ar- 
 
 373 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 thur, oh, I know that it was God! It is so wonder 
 ful to think of to have come to us all in a flash! 
 And it will save David s life it was the thought of 
 the child and the fate that it might have suffered 
 that terrified him most of all, Arthur. And now 
 to think that it is you oh, you! And you are 
 David s son I cannot believe it, I cannot believe 
 it!" Then with a wild laugh she sprang up again 
 and turned, exclaiming, "Oh, he will be so happy, 
 I must tell him we must not lose an instant!" 
 
 She caught Arthur s hand again, and started to 
 wards the house; but she had not taken half a 
 dozen steps before she halted suddenly, and whis 
 pered, "Oh, no, I forgot! He is asleep, and we must 
 not waken him now, we must wait!" 
 
 And then again the laughter broke out over her 
 face, and she turned upon him, radiant. "It is so 
 wonderful!" she cried. "It is so wonderful to be 
 happy, to be free once more! And after so much 
 darkness oh, it is like coming out of prison! Ar 
 thur, dear Arthur, just think of it! And David 
 will be so glad!" The tears started into the girl s 
 eyes; she turned away to gaze about her at the 
 golden morning and to drink in great draughts of its 
 freshness that made her bosom heave. The life 
 seemed to have leaped back into her face all at 
 once, and the color into her cheeks, and she was 
 more beautiful than ever. "To think of being 
 happy!" she panted, "happy again! Oh, if I were 
 not afraid of waking David, you do not know how 
 happy I could be! Don t you think I ought to 
 waken him anyway, Arthur? it is so wonderful 
 it will make him strong again! It is so beautiful 
 
 374 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 that you, whom I have always been so fond of, that 
 you should be David s son! And you can live here 
 and be happy with us! Arthur, do you know I used 
 to think how much like David you looked, and 
 wonder at it; but, oh, are you sure it is true?" 
 
 She chanced to think of the letter that had been 
 left at her father s, and exclaimed, "It must have 
 been that! You have been home, Arthur?" she 
 added quickly. "And while father was up here?" 
 
 "Yes," said he, "I wanted to see your father I 
 could not stay away from home any longer. I was 
 
 so very lonely and unhappy " Arthur stopped 
 
 for a moment, and the girl paled slightly; as he 
 saw it he continued rapidly: "There was no one 
 there but the servant, and she gave me the letter." 
 
 "And did she not tell you about me?" asked 
 Helen. 
 
 "I asked if you were married," Arthur said; "I 
 would not listen to any more, for I could not bear 
 it; when I had read the letter I came up here to 
 look for my poor mother. I wanted to see her; I 
 was as lonely as she ever was, and I wanted some 
 one s sympathy even that poor, beaten soul s. I 
 heard in the town that she was dead ; they told me 
 where the grave was, and that was how I happened 
 out here. I thought I would see it once before I 
 left, and before the people who lived in this house 
 were awake. Helen, when I saw you I thought it 
 was a ghost." 
 
 "It is wonderful, Arthur," whispered the girl; 
 * it is almost too much to believe but, oh, I can t 
 think of anything except how happy it will make 
 
 375 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 David! I love him so, Arthur and you will love 
 him, too, you cannot help but love him. 7 
 
 "Tell me about it all, Helen," the other answered; 
 "I heard nothing, you know, about my poor moth 
 er s story." 
 
 Before Helen answered the question she glanced 
 about her at the morning landscape, and for the 
 first time thought of the fact that it was cold. 
 "Let us go inside," she said; "we can sit there and 
 talk until David wakens." And the two stole in, 
 Helen opening the door very softly. David was 
 sleeping in the next room, so that it was possible 
 not to disturb him; the two sat down before the 
 flickering fire and conversed in low whispers. The 
 girl told him the story of David s love, and told 
 him all about David, and Arthur in turn told her 
 how he had been living in the meantime; only be 
 cause he saw how suddenly happy she was, and 
 withal how nervous and overwrought, he said no 
 more of his sufferings. 
 
 And Helen had forgotten them utterly; it was 
 pathetic to see her delight as she thought of being 
 freed from the fearful terror that had haunted 
 her, she was like a little child in her relief. "He 
 will be so happy he will be so happy!" she whis 
 pered again and again. "We can all be so happy!" 
 The thought that Arthur was actually David s son 
 was so wonderful that she seemed never to be able 
 to realize it fully, and every time she uttered the 
 thought it was a sweep of the wings of her soul. 
 Arthur had to tell her many times that it was 
 actually Mary who had been named in that letter. 
 
 So an hour or two passed by, and still David did 
 376 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 not waken. Helen had crept to the door once or 
 twice to listen to his quiet breathing; but each time, 
 thinking of his long trial, she had whispered that 
 she could not bear to disturb him yet. However, 
 she was getting more and more impatient, and she 
 asked Arthur again and again, "Don t you think I 
 ought to wake him now, don t you think so even 
 if it is just for a minute, you know? For oh, In- 
 will be so glad it will be like waking up in 
 heaven!" 
 
 So it went on until at last she could keep the 
 secret no longer; she thought for a while, and then 
 whispered, "I know what I will do I will play 
 some music and waken him in that way. That will 
 not alarm him, and it will be beautiful." 
 
 She went to the piano and sat down. "It will 
 seem queer to be playing music at this hour," she 
 whispered; but then she glanced at the clock and 
 saw that it was nearly seven, and added, "Why, no, 
 we have often begun by this time. You know, 
 Arthur, we used to get up wonderfully early all 
 summer, because it was so beautiful then, and we 
 used to have music at all sorts of times. Oh, you 
 cannot dream how happy we were, you must wait 
 until you see David, and then you will know why 
 I love him so!" 
 
 She stopped and sat thoughtfully for a moment 
 whispering, "What shall I play?" Then she ex 
 claimed, "I know, Arthur; I will play something 
 that he loves very much and that you used to love, 
 too something that is very soft and low and 
 beautiful." 
 
 Arthur had seated himself beside the piano and 
 
 377 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 was gazing at her; the girl sat still for a moment 
 more, gazing ahead of her and waiting for every 
 thing to be hushed. Then she began, so low as 
 scarcely to be audible, the first movement of the 
 wonderful "Moonlight Sonata." 
 
 As it stole upon the air and swelled louder, she 
 smiled, because it was so beautiful a way to waken 
 David. 
 
 And yet there are few things in music more laden 
 with concentrated mournfulness than that sonata 
 with the woe that is too deep for tears; as the 
 solemn beating of it continued, in spite of them 
 selves the two found that they were hushed and 
 silent. It brought back to Helen s mind all of 
 David s suffering it seemed to be the very breath 
 ing of his sorrow; and yet still she whispered on to 
 herself, "He will waken; and then he will be happy!" 
 
 In the next room David lay sleeping. At first it 
 had been heavily, because he was exhausted, and 
 afterwards, when the stupor had passed, restlessly 
 and with pain. Then at last came the music, falling 
 softly at first and blending with his dreaming, and 
 afterwards taking him by the hand and leading him 
 out into the land of reality, until he found himself 
 lying and listening to it. As he recollected all that 
 had happened he gave a slight start and sat up, 
 wondering at the strangeness of Helen s playing 
 then. He raised his head, and then rose to call her. 
 
 And at that instant came the blow. 
 
 The man suddenly gave a fearful start; he stag 
 gered back upon the sofa, clutching at his side with 
 his hand, his face turning white, and a look of wild 
 
 378 
 
Adagio sostennto. 
 
 r^r^r^f 
 
 semprtpp e smza sordini. 
 
 
 -*- + 
 
 . 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 horror coming over it. For an instant he held him 
 self up by the sofa, staring around him; and then 
 he sank back, half upon the floor, his head falling 
 backwards. And so he lay gasping, torn with agony, 
 while the fearful music trod on, the relentless 
 throbbing of it like a hammer upon his soul. Twice 
 he strove to raise himself and failed; and twice he 
 started to cry out, and checked himself in terror; 
 and so it went on until the place of despair was 
 reached, until there came that one note in the music 
 that is the plunge into night. Helen stopped sud 
 denly there, and everything was deathly still ex 
 cept for the fearful heaving of David s bosom. 
 
 That silencr lasted for several moments; Helen 
 seemed to be waiting and listening, and David s 
 whole being was in suspense. Then suddenly he 
 gave a start, for he heard the girl coming to the 
 door. 
 
 With a gasp of dread he half raised himself, 
 grasping the sofa with his knotted hands. He slid 
 down, half crawling and half falling, into the cor 
 ner, where he crouched, breathless and shuddering; 
 so he was when Helen came into the room. 
 
 She did not see him on the sofa, and she gave a 
 startled cry. She wheeled about and gazed around 
 the room. "Where can he be?" she exclaimed. "He 
 is not here!" and ran out to the piazza. Then came 
 a still more anxious call : David! David! Where 
 are you?" 
 
 And in the meantime David was still crouching in 
 the corner, his face uplifted and torn with agony. 
 He gave one fearful sob, and then he sank forward ; 
 drawing himself by the sheer force of his arms he 
 
 379 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 crawled again into sight, and lay clinging to the 
 sofa. Then he gave a faint gasping cry, "Helen!" 
 
 And the girl heard it, and rushed to the door; 
 she gave one glance at the prostrate form and at the 
 white face, and then leaped forward with a shrill 
 scream, a scream that echoed through the little 
 house, and that froze Arthur s blood. She flung 
 herself down on her knees beside her husband, cry 
 ing "David! David!" And the man looked up at 
 her with his ghastly face and his look of terror, and 
 panted, "Helen Helen, it has come!" 
 
 She screamed again more wildly than before, and 
 caught him to her bosom in frenzy. "No, no, David! 
 No, no!" she cried out; but he only whispered 
 hoarsely again, "It has come!" 
 
 Meanwhile Arthur had rushed into the room, and 
 the two lifted the sufferer up to the sofa, where he 
 sank back and lay for a moment or two, half dazed; 
 then, in answer to poor Helen s agonized pleading, 
 he gazed at her once more. 
 
 "David, David!" she sobbed, choking; "listen to 
 me; it cannot be, David, no, no! And see, here is 
 Arthur Arthur! And David he is your son, he is 
 Mary s child!" 
 
 The man gave a faint start and looked at her in 
 bewilderment; then as she repeated the words 
 again, "He is your son, he is Mary s child," grad 
 ually a look of wondering realization crossed his 
 countenance, and he turned and stared up at Arthur. 
 
 "Is it true?" he whispered hoarsely. "There is no 
 doubt?" 
 
 Helen answered him "Yes, yes," again and again, 
 swiftly and desperately, as if thinking that the joy 
 
 380 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 of it would restore his waning strength. The 
 thought did bring ;i wonderful look of peace over 
 David s face, as he gazed from one to the other 
 and comprehended it all; he caught Arthur s arm in 
 his trembling hands. "Oh, God be praised," he 
 whispered, "it is almost too much. Oh, take care 
 of her take care of her for me!" 
 
 The girl flung herself upon his bosom, sobbing 
 madly; and David sank back and lay for an instant 
 or two with his eyes shut, before at last her suffer 
 ing roused him again. He lifted himself up on his 
 elbows with a fearful effort. "Helen!" he whis 
 pered, in a deep, hollow voice; "listen to me listen 
 to me! I have only a minute more to speak." 
 
 The girl buried her head in his bosom with an 
 other cry, but he shook her back and caught her by 
 the wrists, at the same time sitting erect, a strain 
 that made the veins in his temples start out. "Look 
 at me!" he gasped. "Look at me!" and as the girl 
 stared into his eyes that were alive with the last 
 frenzied effort of his soul, he went on, speaking 
 with fierce swiftness and panting for breath be 
 tween each phrase: 
 
 "Helen Helen listen to me twenty years I 
 have kept myself alive on earth by such a struggle 
 by the power of a will that would not yield! And 
 now there is but an instant more an instant I 
 cannot bear it except to save your soul! For I am 
 going do you hear me going! And you must 
 stay, and you have the battle for your life to fight! 
 Listen to me look into my eyes, for you must call 
 up your powers no-\c now before it is too late! 
 You cannot shirk it do you hear me? It is here!" 
 
 381 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 And as the man was speaking the frenzied words 
 the look of a tiger had come into his face; his eyes 
 were starting from his head, and he held Helen s 
 wrists in a grip that turned them black, tho then she 
 did not feel the pain. She was gazing into his face, 
 convulsed with fright; and the man gasped for 
 breath once more, and then rushed on: 
 
 "A fight like this comes once to a soul, Helen 
 and it wins or it loses and you must win! Do you 
 hear me? Win! I am dying, Helen, I am going 
 and I leave you to God, and to life. He is, He made 
 you, and He demands your worship and your faith 
 that you hold your soul lord of all chances, that 
 you make yourself master of your life! And now is 
 your call now! You clench your hands and you 
 pray it tears your heart-strings, and it bursts 
 your brain but you say that you will that you 
 will that you ivill! Oh, God, that I have left you 
 so helpless that I did not show you the peril of 
 your soul! For you must win oh, if I could but 
 find a word for you ! For you stand upon the brink 
 of ruin, and you have but an instant but an instant 
 to save yourself to call up the vision of your faith 
 before you, and tho the effort kill you, not to let it 
 go! Girl, if you fail, no power of earth or heaven 
 can save you from despair! And oh > have I lived 
 with you for nothing showed you no faith given 
 you no power? Helen, save me have mercy upon 
 me, I cannot stand this, and I dare not I dare not 
 die!" 
 
 The man was leaning forward, gazing into the 
 girl s face, his own countenance fearful to see. "I 
 could die," he gasped; "I could die with a song He 
 
 382 
 
KIXG MIDAS 
 
 has shown me His face 1 and He is good! But I 
 dare not leave you you and I am going! Helen! 
 Helen!" 
 
 The man s fearful force seemed to have been act 
 ing upon the girl like magnetism, for tho the look 
 of wild suffering had not left her face, she had 
 raised herself and was staring into his burning eyes; 
 then suddenly, with an effort that shook her frame 
 she clenched her hands and gave a gasp for breath, 
 and panted, scarcely audibly: "What can I 
 do?" 
 
 David s head had sunk, but he mastered himself 
 once more; and he whispered, "I leave you to God 
 I leave you to life! You can be a soul, you can 
 win you must win, you must live and worship 
 and rejoice! You must kneel here here, while 1 
 am going, never more to return; and you must know 
 that you can never see me again, that I shall no 
 longer exist; and you must cling to your faith in the 
 God who made you, and praise Him for all that He 
 does! And you will not shed a tear not a tear!" 
 
 And his grip tightened yet more desperately; he 
 stared in one last wild appeal, and gasped again, 
 "Promise me not a tear!" 
 
 And again the throbbing force of his soul roused 
 the girl; she could not speak, she was choking; but 
 she gave a sign of assent, and then all at once 
 David s fearful hold relaxed. He gave one look 
 more, one that stamped itself upon Helen s soul 
 forever by its fearful intensity of yearning; and 
 after it he breathed a sigh that seemed to pant out 
 the last inite of strength in his frame, and sank 
 
 383 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 backwards upon the sofa, with Helen still clinging 
 to him. 
 
 There for an instant or two he lay, breathing 
 feebly; and the girl heard a faint whisper again 
 "Not a tear not a tear!" He opened his eyes once 
 more and gazed at her dimly, and then a slight 
 trembling shook his frame. His chest heaved once 
 more and sank, and after it everything was still. 
 
 For an instant Helen stared at him, dazed; then 
 she clutched him by the shoulders, whispering 
 hoarsely then calling louder and louder in fren 
 zied terror, "David, David!" He gave no answer, 
 and with a cry that was fearful to hear the girl 
 clutched him to her. The body was limp and life 
 less the head fell forward as if the neck were 
 broken; and Helen staggered backward with a 
 scream. 
 
 There came an instant of fierce agony then; she 
 stood in the center of the room, reeling and sway 
 ing, clutching her head in her hands, her face up 
 turned and tortured. And first she gasped, "He is 
 dead!- and then "I shall not ever see him again!" 
 And she choked and swallowed a lump in her 
 throat, whispering in awful terror, "Not a tear 
 rot a tear!" And then she flung up her arms and 
 sank forward with an incoherent cry, and fell sense 
 less into Arthur s arms. 
 
 A week had passed since David s death; and 
 Helen was in her father s home once more, sitting 
 by the window in the gathering twilight. She was 
 .very pale, and her eyes were sunken and hollow; 
 
 384 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 but the beauty of her face was still there, tho in a 
 strange and terrible way. Her hand was resting 
 upon Arthur s, and she was gazing into his eyes 
 and speaking in a deep, solemn voice. 
 
 "It will not ever leave ine, Arthur, I know it will 
 not ever leave me; it is like a fearful vision that 
 haunts me night and day, a voice that cries out in 
 my soul and will not let me rest; and I know I shall 
 never again be able to live like other people, never 
 be free from its madness. For oh, I do not think it 
 is often that a human soul sees what I saw he 
 seemed to drag me out into the land of death with 
 him, into the very dwelling-place of God. And I 
 almost went with him, Arthur, almost! Can you 
 dream what I suffered have you any idea of what 
 it means to a human being to make such an effort? 
 I loved that man as if he had been my own soul; 
 I was bound to him so that he was all my life, and 
 to have him go was like tearing my heart in two ; and 
 he had told me that I should never see him again, 
 that there was nothing to look for beyond death. 
 And yet, Arthur, I won do you ever realize it? I 
 won. It seemed to me as if the earth were reeling 
 about me as if the very air I breathed were fire; 
 and oh, I thought that he was dead that he was 
 gone from me forever, and I believed that I was go 
 ing mad! And then, Arthur, those awful words of 
 his came ringing through my mind, Not a tear, not a 
 tear! I had no faith,! could see nothing but that the 
 world was black with horror; and yet I heard those 
 words! It was love it was even fear, I think, that 
 held me to it; I had worshiped his sacredness, I 
 had given all my soul to the wonder of his soul; 
 25 385 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 and I dared not be false to him I dared not dis 
 honor him, and I knew that he had told me that 
 grief was a crime, that there was truth in the 
 world that I might cling to. And oh, Arthur, I 
 won it I won it! I kept the faith David s faith; 
 and it is still alive upon the earth. It seems to me 
 almost as if I had won his soul from death as if 
 I had saved his spirit in mine^ as if I could still 
 rejoice in his life, still have his power and his love; 
 and there is a kind of fearful consecration in my 
 heart, a glory that I am afraid to know of, as if 
 God s hand had been laid upon me. 
 
 "David used to tell me, Arthur, that if only that 
 power is roused in a soul, if only it dwells in that 
 sacredness, there can no longer be fear or evil in 
 its life; that the strife and the vanity and the 
 misery in this cruel world about us come from 
 nothing else but that men do not know this vision, 
 that it is so hard so dreadfully hard to win. 
 And he used to say that this power is infinite, that it 
 depends only upon how much one wants it; and that 
 he who possessed it had the gift of King Midas, and 
 turned all things that he touched to gold. That 
 is real madness to me, Arthur, and will not let me 
 be still; and yet I know that it cannot ever die in 
 me; for whenever there is an instant s weakness 
 there flashes over me again the fearful thought of 
 David, that he is gone back into nothingness, that 
 nowhere can I ever see him, ever hear his voice or 
 speak to him again, that I am alone alone! And 
 that makes me clench my hands and nerve my soul, 
 and fight again, and still again! Arthur, I did that 
 for days, and did not once know why only because 
 
 386 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 David had told me to, because I was filk 
 fearful terror of proving a coward soul, 
 I had heard him say that if one only held the 
 and prayed, the word would come to him at . 
 And it was true it was true, Arthur; it was h 
 the tearing apart of the skies, it was as if I hat. 
 rent my way through them. I saw, as I had never 
 dreamed I could see when I heard David speak of 
 it, how God s Presence is infinite and real; how it 
 guides the blazing stars, and how our life is but an 
 instant and is nothing beside it; and how it makes 
 no difference that we pass into nothingness His 
 glory is still the same. Then I saw too what a 
 victory I had won, Arthur, how I could live in it, 
 and how I was free, and master of my life; there 
 came over me a feeling for which there is no word, 
 a kind of demon force that was madness. I thought 
 of that wonderful sixth chapter of Isaiah that David 
 used to think so much beyond reading, that he used 
 to call the artist s chapter; and oh, I knew just 
 what it was that I had to do in the world!" 
 
 Helen had been speaking very intensely, her voice 
 shaking; the other s gaze was riveted upon her face. 
 "Arthur," she added, her voice sinking to a whisper, 
 "I have no art, but you have; and we must fight 
 together for this fearful glory, we must win this 
 prize of God." And for a long time the two sat in 
 silence, trembling, while the darkness gathered 
 about them. Helen had turned her head, and gazed 
 out, with face uplifted, at the starry shield that 
 quivered and shook above them; suddenly Arthur 
 saw her lips moving again, and heard her speaking 
 the wonderful words that she had referred to, 
 
 387 
 
KING MIDAS 
 
 her voice growing more and more intense, and sink 
 ing into a whisper of awe: 
 
 "In the year that King Uzziah died I saw also the Lord 
 sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled 
 the temple. 
 
 "Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; 
 with twain he covered his face, and with twain He covered his 
 feet, and with twain he did fly. 
 
 "And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is 
 the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory. 
 
 "And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that 
 cried, and the house was filled with smoke. 
 
 "Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a 
 man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of 
 unclean lips: for mine eyea have seen the King, the Lord of 
 hosts. 
 
 "Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a living 
 coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off 
 the altar: 
 
 "And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath 
 touched thy lips; and thine iniquity ia taken away, and thy 
 sin purged. 
 
 "Also I heard the Toice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I 
 send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send 
 me." 
 
 THE END 
 
 388 
 
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