as honorable to yourself as any that crowns
the hero's brow with laurels. Mark me, Helen, the time will come when
you will smile at all that now fills you with apprehension, in the
development of your future, nobler self."

Helen looked up and smiled through her tears.

"Oh! if I dared to promise," said she, "I would pledge my word never to
distrust you, never to be so foolish and weak again. But I think, I
believe that I never will."

"Do not promise, my dear Helen, for you know not your own strength. But,
remember, that without _faith_ you will grope in darkness through the
world--faith in your friends--faith in your God--and I will add--faith
in yourself. From the time I first saw you a little, terror-stricken
child, to the present moment, I have sought only your happiness and
good--and yet forgetting all the past, you distrusted my motives even
now, and your heart rose up against me. From the first dawn of your
being to this sweet, star-lighted moment, God has been to you a tender,
watchful parent, tenderer than any earthly parent, kinder than any
earthly friend--and yet you fear to trust yourself to His providence, to
remain with Him who fills immensity with His presence. You have no faith
in yourself, though there is a legion of angels, nestling, with folded
wings in that young heart, ready to fly forth at your bidding, and
fulfil their celestial mission. Come, Helen," added he, rising, and
lifting her at the same time from her lowly seat, "let us go in--but
tell me first that I am forgiven."

"Forgiven!" cried she, fervently. "How can I ever thank you, ever be
sufficiently grateful for your goodness?"

"By treasuring up my words, and remembering them when you are far away.
I have influence over you now, because you are so very young, and know
so little of the world, but a few years hence it will be very different.
You may think of me then as a severe mentor, a cold, unfeeling sage, and
wonder at the gentleness with which you bore my reproofs, and the
docility with which you yielded to my will."

"I shall always think of you as the best and truest friend I ever had in
the world," cried Helen, enthusiastically, as they entered the
sitting-room, where Mrs. Hazleton and Alice awaited them.

"Because he sent you out into the woods alone?" said Mrs. Hazleton,
smiling, "young despot that he is."

"Yes," replied Helen, "for I feel so much better, stronger and happier
for having gone. Then, if possible, I love A