or
enduring.

"I never saw such eyes in the head of a child," was a common remark upon
Helen. "There is something wildly, hauntingly interesting in them; one
loves and pities her at the first glance."

Helen was too pale and thin to be a beautiful child, but with such a
pair of haunting eyes, soft, silky hair of the same hazel hue, hanging
in short curls just below her ears, and a mouth of rare and winning
sweetness, she was sure to be remembered when no longer present. She
looked several years older than Alice, though of the same age, for the
calm features of the blind child had never known the agitations of
terror or the vague apprehensions of unknown evil. Every one said "Helen
would be pretty," and felt that she was interesting.

Now, while knitting her purse, and sliding the silver beads along the
blue silken thread, she would look up with an eager, listening
countenance, as if her thoughts were gone forth to meet some one, who
delayed their coming.

Alice, too, was listening with an expecting, waiting heart--one could
tell it by the fluttering of the blue ribbon that encircled her neck.

"He will not come to-night, mother," said she, with a sigh. "It is never
so late as this, when he rides in through the gate."

"I fear some accident has happened," cried Helen, "he has a very bad
bridge to cross, and the stream is deep below."

"How much that sounds like Helen," exclaimed Mrs Hazleton, "so fearful
and full of misgivings! I shall not give him up before ten o'clock. If
you like, you can both sit up and bear me company--if not, you may leave
me to watch alone."

They both eagerly exclaimed that they would far rather sit up with her,
and then they were sure they could finish their purses, and have them
ready as gifts for the brother and friend so anxiously looked for.
Though the distance that separated them from him was short, and his
visits frequent, they were ever counted as holidays of the heart, as
eras from which all past events were dated--and on which all future ones
were dependent.

"When Arthur was here, we did so and so." "When Arthur comes, we will do
this and that." A stranger would have thought Arthur the angel of the
Parsonage, and that his coming was the advent of peace, and joy, and
love. It was ever thus that listening ears and longing eyes and waiting
hearts watched his approach. He was an only son and brother, and seldom
indeed is it that Heaven vouchsafes such a blessing to a household,