of talking), and sometimes he says that
if he had me always by his side he should never do or say a wicked thing,
and that a little daily talk with me would make him quite a saint. It
may he partly jest and partly flattery, but still--'

'But still you think it may be truth?'

'If I do think there is any mixture of truth in it, it is not from
confidence in my own powers, but in his natural goodness. And you have
no right to call him a profligate, aunt; he is nothing of the kind.'

'Who told you so, my dear? What was that story about his intrigue with a
married lady--Lady who was it?--Miss Wilmot herself was telling you the
other day?'

'It was false--false!' I cried. 'I don't believe a word of it.'

'You think, then, that he is a virtuous, well-conducted young man?'

'I know nothing positive respecting his character. I only know that I
have heard nothing definite against it--nothing that could be proved, at
least; and till people can prove their slanderous accusations, I will not
believe them. And I know this, that if he has committed errors, they are
only such as are common to youth, and such as nobody thinks anything
about; for I see that everybody likes him, and all the mammas smile upon
him, and their daughters--and Miss Wilmot herself--are only too glad to
attract his attention.'

'Helen, the world may look upon such offences as venial; a few
unprincipled mothers may be anxious to catch a young man of fortune
without reference to his character; and thoughtless girls may be glad to
win the smiles of so handsome a gentleman, without seeking to penetrate
beyond the surface; but you, I trusted, were better informed than to see
with their eyes, and judge with their perverted judgment. I did not
think you would call these venial errors!'

'Nor do I, aunt; but if I hate the sins, I love the sinner, and would do
much for his salvation, even supposing your suspicions to be mainly true,
which I do not and will not believe.'

'Well, my dear, ask your uncle what sort of company he keeps, and if he
is not banded with a set of loose, profligate young men, whom he calls
his friends, his jolly companions, and whose chief delight is to wallow
in vice, and vie with each other who can run fastest and furthest down
the headlong road to the place prepared for the devil and his angels.'

'Then I will save him from them.'

'Oh, Helen, Helen! you little know the misery of uniting your fortunes to
such a man!'

'I have