Helen Ford

“Make no rash promises,” said Helen, “I shall be very much disappointed if you do not.”

“If I could see this lady.”

“So you shall. You will find her in the next room.”

More mystified than ever, Martha accompanied Helen into the next room. There was a large pier glass extending from floor to ceiling. Helen led the seamstress up to it, and standing beside her said, “There, Martha, there is the lady who invites you to be her companion.”

“But I see only yourself.”

“Well, and I am the one,” said Helen, smiling.

Then Helen explained to her astonished and delighted auditor the great change that had taken place in her circumstances. No longer obliged to toil for her daily bread, she would henceforth live in affluence.

“God has been very good to us, Martha,” she said, in conclusion. “I hope we shall not forget, in the happiness of the present, the poverty of the past. I hope we shall use His gift as He would have us.”

“Dear Helen, I am sure you will.”

“And you will come and live with me? I should be very lonely in this large house without a friend to lean upon. Dear Martha, it shall not be my fault if your future is not as sunny as your past has been dark.”

“How much happiness I shall owe you!” said Martha, with grateful tears.

“Hush, Martha,” said Helen, softly. “Do not thank me, for my happiness will be no less.”

That evening the household at Mother Morton’s was electrified by the announcement that Helen Ford had turned out a great heiress, and that Martha Grey was going to live with her. On the morrow Helen and her father transferred their home from their humble lodgings to Twenty-second Street.

“If I had only known,” thought M’lle Fanchette, regretfully, “I might have been in that sickly Martha Grey’s place. But who could ever have imagined that Helen Ford would turn out a rich woman? Well, it’s too late now!”

And M’lle Fanchette had to content herself with this philosophical reflection.

CHAPTER XLIV.

HELEN TAKES LEAVE OF THE STAGE

The next morning Helen, on reaching the theatre, sought the presence of Mr. Bowers.

The manager was seated in his office, as usual. He nodded carelessly as Helen entered, but did not invite her to be seated.

“Well, Miss Ford,” he said, after a while. “What can I do for you, this morning?”

“I should like to have you release me from my engagement, if you please, Mr. Bowers.”

“Release you from your engagement!” ejaculated the astonished manager. Then, in a tone of indignation, “I suppose you have had a larger offer elsewhere.”

“No, sir.”

“What can be your motive, then? I beg you to understand, Miss Ford, that a contract is a contract, and must be kept. Of course your place could be supplied, but it is annoying to make a change in the middle of the season.”

This last remark was thrown in, lest Helen should presume upon her value to the establishment to demand a higher salary. Indeed, the manager suspected that this was her object, and wished to anticipate her.

“I was afraid it might inconvenience you,” said Helen, gently; “and am willing, in requital, to refund the whole amount of wages that I have received from you.”

Mr. Bowers stared at Helen in undisguised astonishment. She must have had a very brilliant offer to warrant her in making such a proposal.

“Did I understand that you have had no other engagement offered you?” he inquired, abruptly.

“No, sir. I do not wish to sing any more in public.”

“It will pay you better than anything else you can do.”

“I ought to explain that I have had a fortune left me, or rather papa has, and under our new circumstances it would be inconvenient for me to come to the theatre every evening.”

“Indeed, Miss Ford!” said Mr. Bowers, his tone changing. “I congratulate you. I hope, for your sake, it is a large fortune.”

“Mr. Sharp tells me that it will be a few hundred thousand dollars,” said Helen, simply, without the least trace of exultation in her tone.

“A few hundred thousand dollars!” exclaimed Mr. Bowers, in profound astonishment. “Pray, take a seat, my dear Miss Ford. Hang my stupidity, why didn’t I think to offer you one before?”

And Mr. Bowers bustled about, and offered Helen a seat with as much deference as if she were a duchess. It was easy to see that she had risen immeasurably in his estimation.

“Did the property come from a relation?” he asked.

“Yes, sir; from my grandfather.”

“Was his name the same with yours, Miss Ford?”

“No, sir. His name was Rand.”

“Not the late Gerald Rand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why he was one of our most substantial citizens—lived on Fifth Avenue. And to think I should have had his granddaughter singing in my theatre! Well, wonders will never cease.”

“If it wouldn’t inconvenience you too much to release me,” said Helen, returning to her petition; “I like to be with papa in the evening. He is lonely without me.”

“By all means, Miss Ford, I would oblige you even were the inconvenience ten times as great,” said Mr. Bowers, obsequiously.

“Thank you, sir; you are very kind. I shall be willing to sing for you the rest of the week, so as to give you time to find some one to fill my place.”

“Will you?” asked the manager, eagerly, seeing at once how he might turn Helen’s accession of fortune to profitable account; “you will indeed confer a great favor upon me by so doing. It will take me some time to fill your place, and I cannot hope to obtain a substitute who will become such a favorite with the public.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Helen, rising to go. “Then I will go to rehearsal.”

“Thank you rather, my dear Miss Ford,” said the manager, rising from his seat and opening the door for her. “I shall not forget your kindness.”

Helen could not help wondering a little at the change in the manager’s manner, and, unversed as she was in the ways of the world, she could not help seeing that it was the result of her change of circumstances.

Meanwhile the manager was not idle. The morning papers contained the following paragraph, the authorship of which may at least be suspected.