wronged her humble devotion in life by asking to lie at the side of those
whom she had served so long and faithfully. There were very few present
at the simple ceremony. Helen Darley was one of these few. The old black
woman had been her companion in all the kind offices of which she had
been the ministering angel to Elsie.

After it was all over, Helen was leaving with the rest, when Dudley
Veneer begged her to stay a little, and he would send her back: it was a
long walk; besides, he wished to say some things to her, which he had not
had the opportunity of speaking. Of course Helen could not refuse him;
there must be many thoughts coming into his mind which he would wish to
share with her who had known his daughter so long and been with filer in
her last days.

She returned into the great parlor with the wrought cornices and the
medallion-portraits on the ceiling.

"I am now alone in the world," Dudley Veneer said.

Helen must have known that before he spoke. But the tone in which he
said it had so much meaning, that she could not find a word to answer him
with. They sat in silence, which the old tall clock counted out in long
seconds; but it was silence which meant more than any words they had ever
spoken.

"Alone in the world. Helen, the freshness of my life is gone, and there
is little left of the few graces which in my younger days might have
fitted me to win the love of women. Listen to me,--kindly, if you can;
forgive me, at least. Half my life has been passed in constant fear and
anguish, without any near friend to share my trials. My task is done
now; my fears have ceased to prey upon me; the sharpness of early sorrows
has yielded something of its edge to time. You have bound me to you by
gratitude in the tender care you have taken of my poor child. More than
this. I must tell you all now, out of the depth of this trouble through
which I am passing. I have loved you from the moment we first met; and
if my life has anything left worth accepting, it is yours. Will you take
the offered gift?"

Helen looked in his face, surprised, bewildered.

"This is not for me,--not for me," she said. "I am but a poor faded
flower, not worth the gathering, of such a one as you. No, no,--I have
been bred to humble toil all my days, and I could not be to you what you
ought to ask. I am accustomed to a kind of loneliness and
self-dependence. I have seen nothing, almost, of the world, such as you
were bo