r be willing to give me another."

"Ten thousand, child, if you will take them," cried Miss Thusa,
good-naturedly, repairing the mischief her pupil had done.

"Do you know the sun is down?" asked Arthur, "and that your path lies
through the woods?"

Helen started, and for the first time became aware that the shadows of
twilight were deepening on the landscape. She did not think Arthur
Hazleton would accompany her home. He would test her courage as he had
done before, and taking a hurried leave of Miss Thusa, promising to stay
and hear many a legend next time, she jumped over the stile before
Arthur could overtake her and assist her steps.

"Would you prefer walking alone?" said Arthur, "or will you accept of my
escort?"

"I did not think you intended coming with me," said Helen, "or I would
have waited."

"You thought me as rude and barbarous as ever."

"Perhaps you think me as foolish and timid as ever."

"You have become courageous and fearless then--I congratulate you--I
told you that you would one day be a heroine."

"That day will never come," said Helen, blushing. "My fears are
hydras--as fast as one is destroyed another is born. Shadows will always
be peopled with phantoms, and darkness is to me the shadow of the
grave."

"I am sorry to hear you say so, Helen," said the young doctor, taking
her hand, and leading her along the shadowy path, "and yet you feel safe
with me. You fear not when I am with you."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Helen, involuntarily drawing nearer to him--"I never
fear in your presence. Midnight would seem noonday, and all phantoms
flee away."

"And yet, Helen," he cried, "you have a friend always near, stronger to
protect than legions of angels can be. Do you realize this truth?"

"I trust, I believe I do," answered Helen, looking upward into the dome
of darkening blue that seemed resting upon the tall, dark pillars of the
woods. "I sometimes think if I were really exposed to a great danger, I
could brave it without shrinking--or if danger impended over one I
loved, I should forget all selfish apprehensions. Try not to judge me
too severely--and I will do my best to correct the faults of my
childhood."

They walked on in silence a few moments, for there was something hushing
in the soft murmurs of the branches, something like the distant roaring
of the ocean surge.

"I must take Alice home to-morrow," said he, at length; "her mother
longs to behold her. I wish you were going with