h and
firmness."

"I hear, indeed, that the government will probably retire. But it is with
honor: it will be soon called back by the voice of the nation."

"Let me see the future wife of Harley L'Estrange," said Egerton, without
heed of this consolatory exclamation.

The Countess rose and left the room. In a few minutes she returned with
Helen Digby. Helen was wondrously improved from the pale, delicate child,
with the soft smile and intelligent eyes, who had sat by the side of
Leonard in his garret. She was about the middle height, still slight but
beautifully formed; that exquisite roundness of proportion, which conveys
so well the idea of woman, in its undulating pliant grace--formed to
embellish life, and soften away its rude angles--formed to embellish, not
to protect. Her face might not have satisfied the critical eye of an
artist--it was not without defects in regularity; but its expression was
eminently gentle and prepossessing; and there were few who would not have
exclaimed, "What a lovely countenance!" The mildness of her brow was
touched with melancholy--her childhood had left its traces on her youth.
Her step was slow, and her manner shy, subdued, and timid. Audley gazed on
her with earnestness as she approached him; and then coming forward, took
her hand and kissed it. "I am your guardian's constant friend," said he;
and he drew her gently to a seat beside him, in the recess of a window.
With a quick glance of his eye towards the Countess, he seemed to imply
the wish to converse with Helen somewhat apart. So the Countess
interpreted the glance; and though she remained in the room, she seated
herself at a distance, and bent over a book.

It was touching to see how the austere man of business lent himself to
draw forth the mind of this quiet, shrinking girl; and if you had
listened, you would have comprehended how he came to possess such social
influence, and how well, some time or other in the course of his life, he
had learned to adapt himself to women. He spoke first of Harley
L'Estrange--spoke with tact and delicacy. Helen at first answered by
monosyllables, and then, by degrees, with grateful and open affection.
Audley's brow grew shaded. He then spoke of Italy; and though no man had
less of the poet in his nature, yet, with the dexterity of one long versed
in the world, and who has been accustomed to extract evidences from
characters most opposed to his own, he suggested such topics as might
serve