to her confidence. Mechanically, and scarce knowing
what she did, she laid her trembling hand on the arm held out to her.

The two Lotharios looked foolish. One pulled up his shirt-collar, and
the other turned, with a forced laugh, on his heel. Boy as Percival
seemed, and little more than boy as he was, there was a dangerous fire
in his eye, and an expression of spirit and ready courage in his whole
countenance, which, if it did not awe his tall rivals, made them at
least unwilling to have a scene and provoke the interference of a
policeman; one of whom was now seen walking slowly up to the spot. They
therefore preserved a discomfited silence; and Percival St. John, with
his heart going ten knots a beat, sailed triumphantly off with his
prize.

Scarcely knowing whither he went, certainly forgetful of Mr. Mivers, in
his anxiety to escape at least from the crowd, Percival walked on till
he found himself with his fair charge under the trees of St. James's
Park.

Then Helen, recovering herself, paused, and said, alarmed: "But this is
not my way; I must go back to the street!"

"How foolish I am! That is true," said Percival, looking confused. "I--I
felt so happy to be with you, feel your hand on my arm, and think
that we were all by ourselves, that--that---But you have dropped your
flowers!"

And as a bouquet Helen wore, dislodged somehow or other, fell to the
ground, both stooped to pick it up, and their hands met. At that touch,
Percival felt a strange tremble, which perhaps communicated itself (for
such things are contagious) to his fair companion. Percival had got
the nosegay, and seemed willing to detain it; for he bent his face
lingeringly over the flowers. At length he turned his bright, ingenuous
eyes to Helen, and singling one rose from the rest, said beseechingly:
"May I keep this? See, it is not so fresh as the others."

"I am sure, sir," said Helen, colouring, and looking down, "I owe you so
much that I should be glad if a poor flower could repay it."

"A poor flower! You don't know what a prize this is to me!" Percival
placed the rose reverently in his bosom, and the two moved back slowly,
as if reluctant both, through the old palace-court into the street.

"Is that lady related to you?" asked Percival, looking another way, and
dreading the reply,--"not your mother, surely!"

"Oh, no! I have no mother!"

"Forgive me!" said Percival; for the tone of Helen's voice told him that
he had touched the spr