and left her."

A murmur of surprise ran round the room, accompanied with a look of
incredulity, which Grandma Nichols quickly divined, and while her
withered cheek crimsoned at the implied disgrace, she added in an
elevated tone of voice, "It's true as the Bible. Old Father
Blanchard's son, that used to preach here, married them, and Heleny
brought us a letter from him, saying it was true. Here 'tis,--read
it yourselves, if you don't b'lieve me;" and she drew from a side
drawer a letter, on the back of which, the villagers recognized the
well remembered handwriting of their former pastor.

This proof of Helena's innocence was hardly relished by the clever
gossips of Oakland, for the young girl, though kind-hearted and
gentle, was far too beautiful to be a general favorite. Mothers saw
in her a rival for their daughters, while the daughters looked
enviously upon her clear white brow, and shining chestnut hair; which
fell in wavy curls about her neck and shoulders. Two years before
our story opens, she had left her mountain home to try the mysteries
of millinery in the city, where a distant relative of her mother was
living. Here her uncommon beauty attracted much attention, drawing
erelong to her side a wealthy young southerner, who, just freed from
the restraints of college life, found it vastly agreeable making love
to the fair Helena. Simple-minded, and wholly unused to the ways of
the world, she believed each word he said, and when at last he
proposed marriage, she not only consented, but also promised to keep
it a secret for a time, until he could in a measure reconcile his
father, who he feared might disinherit him for wedding a penniless
bride.

"Wait, darling, until he knows you," said he, "and then he will
gladly welcome you as his daughter."

Accordingly, one dark, wintry night, when neither moon nor stars were
visible, Helena stole softly from her quiet room at Mrs. Warren's,
and in less than an hour was the lawful bride of Harry Rivers, the
wife of the clergyman alone witnessing the ceremony.

"I wish I could take you home at once," said young Rivers, who was
less a rascal than a coward; "I wish I could take you home at once,
but it cannot be. We must wait awhile."

So Helena went back to Mrs. Warren's, where for a few weeks she
stayed, and then saying she was going home, she left and became the
mistress of a neat little cottage which stood a mile or two from the
city. Here for several months