by Nero's joyous bark. He had caught sight
of her, and came bounding up, and thrust his large head into her hand. As
she stooped to caress the dog, happy at his honest greeting, and tears
that had been long gathering to the lids fell silently on his face, (for I
know nothing that more moves us to tears than the hearty kindness of a
dog, when something in human beings has pained or chilled us,) she heard
behind the musical voice of Harley. Hastily she dried or repressed her
tears, as her guardian came up, and drew her arm within his own.

"I had so little of your conversation last evening, my dear ward, that I
may well monopolize you now, even to the privation of Nero. And so you are
once more in your native land?"

Helen sighed softly.

"May I not hope that you return under fairer auspices than those which
your childhood knew?"

Helen turned her eyes with ingenuous thankfulness to her guardian, and the
memory of all she owed to him rushed upon her heart. Harley renewed, and
with earnest though melancholy sweetness--"Helen, your eyes thank me; but
hear me before your words do. I deserve no thanks. I am about to make to
you a strange confession of egotism and selfishness."

"You!--oh, impossible!"

"Judge yourself, and then decide which of us shall have cause to be
grateful. Helen, when I was scarcely your age--a boy in years, but more,
methinks, a man at heart, with man's strong energies and sublime
aspirings, than I have ever since been--I loved, and deeply--" He paused a
moment in evident struggle. Helen listened in mute surprise, but his
emotion awakened her own; her tender woman's heart yearned to console.
Unconsciously her arm rested on his less lightly. "Deeply, and for sorrow.
It is a long tale, that may be told hereafter. The worldly would call my
love a madness. I did not reason on it then--I cannot reason on it now.
Enough; death smote suddenly, terribly, and to me mysteriously, her whom I
loved. The love lived on. Fortunately, perhaps, for me, I had quick
distraction, not to grief, but to its inert indulgence. I was a soldier; I
joined our armies. Men called me brave. Flattery! I was a coward before
the thought of life. I sought death: like sleep, it does not come at our
call. Peace ensued. As when the winds fall the sails droop--so when
excitement ceased, all seemed to me flat and objectless. Heavy, heavy was
my heart. Perhaps grief had been less obstinate, but that I feared I had
cause for self-reproac