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 . 30, 1861.] for some weeks; and, besides, Mr. Hubbs’s knock, though equally authoritative, was by no means so eager and impatient.

Before any one could open the door, the visitor opened it himself, and walking up to Helen with hasty strides, seized her hands:

“At last, Helen—at last I see you again.”

“Francis!” exclaimed Helen, gazing at the young man in great surprise.

“Dear Helen, what you must have suffered! If I had only known what had happened a little sooner you might have been spared this degradation at least. It maddens me to think of it. Have mercy upon me, and send the little wretches away.”

“Hush,” whispered Helen, “you must not talk so.”

“Nonsense, Helen! But I will have patience; only send them out of my sight.”

He turned to one of the windows, and stood there while Helen dismissed her classes. He was a very handsome young man, in spite of the haughty and impatient annoyance visible in every line of his face as he glanced at Helen’s plebeian pupils—graceful and distinguished in look and air. He wore a light summer travelling dress, fashionably made, and held a leghorn hat in his hand, crushing it against the desk by which he stood, as if compelled to vent his anger on something. His hair, a bright dark chesnut in colour, curled round his forehead with what seemed careless grace, but was in reality carefully studied; his eyes were dark and very bright, his features regularly formed, animated and expressive. There was something of hauteur and superciliousness in the character of his mouth, but not more than most observers would have readily excused in one of such rare personal advantages. At this moment it was with indescribable difficulty he controlled the impatience and irritability working within him, while the children put up their books and slates, and made themselves ready to go. At last they all vanished, one girl turning her head to take a peep at the stranger as she did so, and then, with a nexclamationan exclamation [sic] of relief, Francis spruung to Helen, and seizing her hand again, eagerly tried to read her face, whose expression perhaps somewhat disappointed him.

She was certainly changed since he had last seen her in her father's house.

In those days she had always been expensively dressed, generally in light, bright colours—shade, and texture, and form, all chosen and arranged with that exquisite taste and perception of the beautiful inseparable from all she did. Now she wore a black and white calico gown, without any ornament or decoration but a white linen collar, and a knot of black ribbon. Her beautiful hair, which when he had last seen her she had worn wreathed in rich plaits round her head, was now cut short, and hung in soft curls on her neck, making her at the first glance look much younger than she really was. Yet her face was now much more the face of one who had thought and felt than it had been when he had known it; the deep emotions she had felt of late had stirred the finest chords of her nature and ennobled her beauty, and the happiness that filled her heart threw a glad brightness over all. It was not thus her cousin pictured her to his fancy when he heard of her father’s death, of her illness, and the life of labour she was leading. He thought only of an existence dull and monotonous, full of sordid cares and harassing toils, with all those rough associations and accompaniments so abhorrent to a gentle and refined nature, and in such circumstances he believed she must be utterly miserable. He felt sure that she must hourly compare the variety, brilliancy, and refinement of her former life with the monotony, hardships, and degradation of the life to which she was now doomed, and look back to the past with bitter regret. He said to himself that if the love she had formerly slighted, and which would have saved her from such a fate, were offered to her now, she would not again reject it. Brief as was Helen’s letter to his mother, it had stirred all that was tender and generous in his heart. The perils she had gone through, the sorrows she must have endured, without one friend near to comfort her, the life of painful slavery to which she had been compelled, filled him with pain and indignation; but still it must he confessed it was some consolation to him to reflect that the more sad, isolated, and toilsome her life now was, the more gladly she would welcome a release from its wretchedness, the more highly prize the love that would restore her to happiness and luxury. To him such a mode of life as Helen described would have been worse than death; for he little knew of that divine faculty whose fine insight penetrates beyond the outward husk of the most unsightly things to the beauty which lies beneath—which discerns the silver lining of the cloud, the god or hero in the yet unhewn marble, the rich gold in the rough ore, the winged butterfly folded in the dark chrysalis, which sees living flowers where duller visions only behold a wilderness of weeds, and find fresh waters among desert sands.

He had had some difficulty in reconciling his mother to his going for Helen himself, for though Mrs. Coryton was ready to receive Helen as her niece with great kindness, she was vexed and disappointed that Francis should persist in his {wish to make her his wife; but he had always been accustomed to take his own way, so of course he took it now, and set out for Long Arrow with Mrs. Coryton’s own maid. He set off in high spirits, full of hope and exultation, better pleased with himself and with all the world than he had ever been before, and believing that he was earning an indisputable title to Helen's gratitude and love. He painted to himself her joy at first seeing him, her gratitude in finding the love she had rejected in prosperity was faithful to her in adversity, and he felt a proud satisfaction at the thought that he was about to rescue one, whose beauty, grace, and goodness would brighten and adorn his future life, from an existence I of forlorn and hopeless drudgery. But now that the was beside her, and looking into her face, all his confidence fled. Instead of being pale with sorrow, worn with toil, oppressed with gloom, she looked bright, happy, and more beautiful than ever, and a feeling of anxiety and dissatisfaction crept over him.