happiness.
“The best news one could ask for!” she said ecstatically.
George did not return her smile.
“So…he really wants to marry you? He…he didn’t say you should stay where you are, miss?” he asked in a monotone.
“Now George! Why should he say that?” In her blissful state, Helen completely forgot that up until that very moment, she had repeatedly denied having replied to the advertisement in question. “We fit together wonderfully. A very cultivated young man, who…”
“More cultivated than me, Miss Davenport?” George blurted out. “Are you sure he’s better than I am? Smarter? Better read?Because…if it’s only about love…I…well, he can’t love you more than I do…”
George turned away, shocked by his own courage. Helen had to grab him by the shoulder and turn him around to look him in the eye. He seemed to shiver at her touch.
“Now George, what are you saying? What do you know about love? You’re only sixteen! You’re my student!” Helen exclaimed, astonished—but knew even as she spoke that she was talking nonsense. Why couldn’t you feel deeply at sixteen?
“Now look, George, I’ve never ever compared you and Howard,” she continued. “Or even seen you as rivals. After all, I didn’t know that you…”
“And you couldn’t have known!” Something almost like hope now glimmered in George’s clever brown eyes. “I had…just had to tell you. Even before all this about New Zealand. But I didn’t think you…”
“That was the right thing and completely normal, George,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “You yourself knew that you’re far too young for such things, and normally you wouldn’t have put your feelings into words. Why don’t we forget it now…”
“I’m ten years younger than you, Miss Davenport,” George interrupted her. “And I’m your student, of course, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m starting my studies, and in a few years I’ll be a respected merchant. Then, no one will care about my age or my wife’s.”
“But I will,” Helen said softly. “I want a man my own age who is right for me. I’m sorry, George…”
“And how do you know the man in the letter will live up to that?” the boy asked in despair. “Why do you love him? You have only just received a letter from him for the first time. Did he give his age? Do you know whether he can keep you suitably fed and clothed? Will you even have anything to talk about? You’ve always enjoyed speaking with my father and me. So if you’ll wait for me…just a few years, Miss Davenport, until I’ve finished my studies. Please, Miss Davenport! Please give me a chance!”
George reached uncontrollably for her hand.
Helen pulled away.
“I’m sorry, George. It’s not that I wouldn’t like you; quite the opposite. But I’m your teacher, and you’re my student. Nothing more can come of that…besides, you’ll think about things in a whole new light in a few years.”
Helen wondered whether Richard Greenwood had guessed something of his son’s blind lovesickness. Perhaps that was why she had him to thank for the generously donated ship’s passage—and perhaps he also wanted to make the hopelessness of his son’s feelings plain to him.
“I’ll never feel differently,” George said passionately. “As soon as I’m of age, as soon as I can support a family, I’ll be there for you! If only you’ll wait, Miss Davenport.”
Helen shook her head. She had to end this conversation now. “George, even if I did love you, I cannot wait. If I want to have a family, I have to seize the opportunity now. Howard is that opportunity. And I will be a true and loving wife to him.”
George looked at her in desperation. His narrow face reflected all the torment of love spurned, and Helen thought she could almost discern, behind the still unripe features of the boy’s face, the countenance of the man George would one day be. A lovable, worldly man who would not commit
“The best news one could ask for!” she said ecstatically.
George did not return her smile.
“So…he really wants to marry you? He…he didn’t say you should stay where you are, miss?” he asked in a monotone.
“Now George! Why should he say that?” In her blissful state, Helen completely forgot that up until that very moment, she had repeatedly denied having replied to the advertisement in question. “We fit together wonderfully. A very cultivated young man, who…”
“More cultivated than me, Miss Davenport?” George blurted out. “Are you sure he’s better than I am? Smarter? Better read?Because…if it’s only about love…I…well, he can’t love you more than I do…”
George turned away, shocked by his own courage. Helen had to grab him by the shoulder and turn him around to look him in the eye. He seemed to shiver at her touch.
“Now George, what are you saying? What do you know about love? You’re only sixteen! You’re my student!” Helen exclaimed, astonished—but knew even as she spoke that she was talking nonsense. Why couldn’t you feel deeply at sixteen?
“Now look, George, I’ve never ever compared you and Howard,” she continued. “Or even seen you as rivals. After all, I didn’t know that you…”
“And you couldn’t have known!” Something almost like hope now glimmered in George’s clever brown eyes. “I had…just had to tell you. Even before all this about New Zealand. But I didn’t think you…”
“That was the right thing and completely normal, George,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “You yourself knew that you’re far too young for such things, and normally you wouldn’t have put your feelings into words. Why don’t we forget it now…”
“I’m ten years younger than you, Miss Davenport,” George interrupted her. “And I’m your student, of course, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m starting my studies, and in a few years I’ll be a respected merchant. Then, no one will care about my age or my wife’s.”
“But I will,” Helen said softly. “I want a man my own age who is right for me. I’m sorry, George…”
“And how do you know the man in the letter will live up to that?” the boy asked in despair. “Why do you love him? You have only just received a letter from him for the first time. Did he give his age? Do you know whether he can keep you suitably fed and clothed? Will you even have anything to talk about? You’ve always enjoyed speaking with my father and me. So if you’ll wait for me…just a few years, Miss Davenport, until I’ve finished my studies. Please, Miss Davenport! Please give me a chance!”
George reached uncontrollably for her hand.
Helen pulled away.
“I’m sorry, George. It’s not that I wouldn’t like you; quite the opposite. But I’m your teacher, and you’re my student. Nothing more can come of that…besides, you’ll think about things in a whole new light in a few years.”
Helen wondered whether Richard Greenwood had guessed something of his son’s blind lovesickness. Perhaps that was why she had him to thank for the generously donated ship’s passage—and perhaps he also wanted to make the hopelessness of his son’s feelings plain to him.
“I’ll never feel differently,” George said passionately. “As soon as I’m of age, as soon as I can support a family, I’ll be there for you! If only you’ll wait, Miss Davenport.”
Helen shook her head. She had to end this conversation now. “George, even if I did love you, I cannot wait. If I want to have a family, I have to seize the opportunity now. Howard is that opportunity. And I will be a true and loving wife to him.”
George looked at her in desperation. His narrow face reflected all the torment of love spurned, and Helen thought she could almost discern, behind the still unripe features of the boy’s face, the countenance of the man George would one day be. A lovable, worldly man who would not commit