her. I fear you will not
be happy here."

"I cannot leave my father," said Helen, sadly, "and if I can only keep
out of the way of other people's happiness, I will try to be content."

"May I speak to you freely, Helen, as I did several years ago? May I
counsel you as a friend--guide you as a brother still?"

"It is all that I wished--more than I dared to ask. I only fear that I
shall give you too much trouble."

There was a gray, old rock by the way-side, that looked exactly as if it
belonged to Miss Thusa's establishment. Arthur Hazleton seated Helen
there, and threw himself on the moss at her feet.

"I am going away to-morrow," said he, "and I feel as if I had much to
say. I leave you exposed to temptation; and to put you on your guard, I
must say perhaps what you will think unauthorized. You know so little of
the world--are so guileless and unsuspecting--I cannot bear to alarm
your simplicity; and yet, Helen, you cannot always remain a child."

"Oh, I wish I could," she exclaimed; "I cannot bear the thought of being
otherwise. As long as I am a child, I shall be caressed, cherished, and
forgiven for all my faults. I never shall be able to act on my own
responsibility--never."

"But, Helen, you have attained the stature of womanhood. You are looked
upon as a candidate for admiration--as the rival of your beautiful
sister. You will be flattered and courted, not as a child, but as a
woman. The young man who has become, as it were, domesticated in your
family, has extraordinary personal attractions, and every member of the
household appears to have yielded to his influence. Were I as sure of
his moral worth as of his outward graces, I would not say what I have
done. But, with one doubt on my mind, as your early friend, as the
self-elected guardian of your happiness, I cannot forbear to caution, to
admonish, perhaps to displease, by my too watchful, too officious
friendship."

Arthur paused. His voice had become agitated and his manner excited.

"You cannot believe me capable of the meanness of envy," he added. "Were
Bryant Clinton less handsome, less fascinating, his sincerity and truth
might be a question of less moment."

"How could you envy any one," cried Helen, earnestly, unconscious how
much her words and manner expressed. "Displeased! Oh! I thank you so
much. But indeed I do not admire Mr. Bryant Clinton at all. He is
entirely too handsome and dazzling. I do not like that long, curling,
shining hair