en, our
conversation the night but one before we left Staningley?'

'Yes, aunt.'

'And do you remember how I warned you against letting your heart be
stolen from you by those unworthy of its possession, and fixing your
affections where approbation did not go before, and where reason and
judgment withheld their sanction?'

'Yes; but my reason--'

'Pardon me--and do you remember assuring me that there was no occasion
for uneasiness on your account; for you should never be tempted to marry
a man who was deficient in sense or principle, however handsome or
charming in other respects he might be, for you could not love him; you
should hate--despise--pity--anything but love him--were not those your
words?'

'Yes; but--'

'And did you not say that your affection must be founded on approbation;
and that, unless you could approve and honour and respect, you could not
love?'

'Yes; but I do approve, and honour, and respect--'

'How so, my dear? Is Mr. Huntingdon a good man?'

'He is a much better man than you think him.'

'That is nothing to the purpose. Is he a good man?'

'Yes--in some respects. He has a good disposition.'

'Is he a man of principle?'

'Perhaps not, exactly; but it is only for want of thought. If he had
some one to advise him, and remind him of what is right--'

'He would soon learn, you think--and you yourself would willingly
undertake to be his teacher? But, my dear, he is, I believe, full ten
years older than you--how is it that you are so beforehand in moral
acquirements?'

'Thanks to you, aunt, I have been well brought up, and had good examples
always before me, which he, most likely, has not; and, besides, he is of
a sanguine temperament, and a gay, thoughtless temper, and I am naturally
inclined to reflection.'

'Well, now you have made him out to be deficient in both sense and
principle, by your own confession--'

'Then, my sense and my principle are at his service.'

'That sounds presumptuous, Helen. Do you think you have enough for both;
and do you imagine your merry, thoughtless profligate would allow himself
to be guided by a young girl like you?'

'No; I should not wish to guide him; but I think I might have influence
sufficient to save him from some errors, and I should think my life well
spent in the effort to preserve so noble a nature from destruction. He
always listens attentively now when I speak seriously to him (and I often
venture to reprove his random way