st go and close that door. I have a most inconveniently zealous
French waiting-maid, who pretends not to understand English, that she
may gather as much information about one's private affairs as possible."

"I encountered her on the stairs," said May, closing the door carefully.

"Now, lay off your things, little woman. Sit here where I can see you,
and tell me if you are not dazzled by all this splendor, and if you do
not think I ought to be the happiest woman on earth?"

"No, dear Helen; it is very rich and beautiful, but it does not dazzle
me. And so far from thinking you ought to be the happiest woman on
earth, I think you ought to be the most miserable, until contrition and
repentance lead you back, humble and weeping, to the sacraments you
have deserted," said May, bravely.

"Just the same ridiculous little thing!" said Helen, with a faint
smile. "But, May, suppose even that I _felt_ those dispositions, do
you know what it would cost me to practice them?"

"A few worldly pleasures, perhaps, which are so fleeting that they are
not worth a thought--a few vain triumphs, full of envy--heart-burnings
and aspirations, which, while they waste the energies of an immortal
soul, rise no higher than your head, and fall like black, misshapen
lava at your feet."

"Think you this is all, May Brooke? If it were, I could fling them
from me as I do these leaves," said Helen, tearing to pieces a rich
japonica, which she snatched from a vase near her, and scattering the
soft, pure petals around her. "No, May, these would be trifles. I
should have to tear up my heart with a burning ploughshare--put it
under foot to be spurned and crushed! The storm it would raise would
rage so wildly that I should become like a piece of drift-wood, at the
mercy of wind and waves."

"If your eternal interests are at stake, let the burning ploughshare go
over it, Helen, for it is better to suffer here than where the fire of
wrath is everlasting; but, indeed, dear Helen, all this sounds
exaggerated and impassioned to me! These obstacles which you dread
must be temptations to deter you from the holiest duties. If you
anticipate any difficulties from Mr. Jerrold's opposition, make your
heart easy. He is quite miserable about you, and declares that he has
not the least objection to you practising your Faith."

"Did he say that, May?"

"He did, indeed. I suggested that your happiness might be involved in
these momentous questions, whe