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Updated: May 24, 2025
She was about to rise when Miss Benedet came silently into the room with her long, even step. Her dark eyes were full of sleep. Mrs. Thorne rang, and began to fuss a little over her guest to cover the shyness each felt at the beginning of a new day. They had parted at too high a pitch of expression to meet again in the same emotional key.
"Everything is settled, Mr. Thorne, and I am going to bed," said Miss Benedet. Mrs. Thorne did not release her hands. "I want to ask you one more question." "I know exactly what it is, and I will tell you to-morrow." "Tell me now; it is perfectly useless going to your room; the temperature over your bed is ninety-nine." "The question, then! Why did I allow your son to commit himself in ignorance?"
You know they have continually been abroad for the last seven years, and Helen has never been seen in society here. When you spoke of 'Miss Benedet' I no more thought of her than if she had not been living. Aunt Frances met them last winter at Cannes, and Mrs. Benedet said positively that they had no intention of coming back to California ever to live.
He thought it extraordinary and rather brazen. And he liked still less to be drawn into a woman's parlance. Mrs. Thorne sat still, trembling. "Henry, tell her! Speak to her!" Miss Benedet turned from husband to wife. Her face was very pale. "Ah," she said, "you knew about me all the time! He has told you everything and you called me 'my dear'! Is it easy for you to say such things?"
A tall young man in traveling clothes stepped out upon the horse-block, left his luggage there, and made ten strides up the walk. They heard his step exploring the empty piazzas. "It is Willy!" said Mrs. Thorne in a staccato whisper. "Then good-by!" said Miss Benedet. "I will find Mr. Thorne in the garden. Dearest Mrs. Thorne, you must let me go!" "You will not see him? Not see Willy!"
"I am sorry you worried so, mother." "What does it matter about me?" "I am sorry you took it so hard because I knew it all the time." "You knew it! What do you mean?" "A nice old lady told me. She was staying in the house. She cornered me and told me a long story the day after I met Miss Benedet." "What an infamous old woman!"
"It was announced a few days later that Mrs. Benedet and her daughter Helen had gone East on their way to Europe. As Mr. Benedet's health was very bad, this was only six months before he died, society wondered; but it has been accustomed to wondering about the Benedets. "Mrs. Benedet came home at the time of her husband's death and remained for a few months, but Helen was kept away.
"No, no!" Mrs. Thorne protested. "Yes, yes! You have asked that question, you must have. You are an angel, but you are a mother, too." "I have asked no questions since you began to tell your story; but I have wondered how Willy could have found courage, in one week, to offer himself to such gifts and possessions as yours." "A mother, and a worldly mother!" Miss Benedet apostrophized.
"He looked at her then, and said quietly, 'The Benedet house is closed for the summer. "She hung her head at the name. 'Promise me your silence! she implored in the same low, careful voice. "'I will protect you in every way consistent with common sense, your father answered, 'but I make no promises. "'I am at your mercy, she said, and added, 'but not more than at his.
Thorne demanded, hitching his chair into an attitude of attention. It was impossible for Miss Benedet to take up her story in the key in which she had left off. She began again rather flatly, allowing for the chill of interruptions: "To go back to that summer; I was in my sixteenth year, and the policy of expansion was to have begun.
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