nd glance
From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest
utterance."

Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like
smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_
lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I
might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her.

After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me
no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy
life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and
joyfulness.

It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the
Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been
distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court
to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature,
and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead
seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely
expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its
glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale,
touched by the cold fingers of death.

I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my
brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I
was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I
suffered the days to glide away.

My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream
that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate.

"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?"

"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the
most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I
have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's
daughter."

I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a
presentiment, a warning of evil to come.

"Say, William?"

"Yes--yes, she is lovely."

"She is an angel."

Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange
melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's
door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner.

"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?"

"Sad!--am I sad?"

"You look so."

"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my
depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour
than was my custom.

From tha