er, for worse; and she, like a good
girl, informs me she cannot think of it without her uncle's and aunt's
consent. So let me implore you not to condemn me to eternal
wretchedness: if you favour my cause, I am safe; for Mr. Maxwell, I am
certain, can refuse you nothing.'

'We will talk of this to-morrow, sir,' said my aunt, coldly. 'It is a
subject that demands mature and serious deliberation. At present, you
had better return to the drawing-room.'

'But meantime,' pleaded he, 'let me commend my cause to your most
indulgent--'

'No indulgence for you, Mr. Huntingdon, must come between me and the
consideration of my niece's happiness.'

'Ah, true! I know she is an angel, and I am a presumptuous dog to dream
of possessing such a treasure; but, nevertheless, I would sooner die than
relinquish her in favour of the best man that ever went to heaven--and as
for her happiness, I would sacrifice my body and soul--'

'Body and soul, Mr. Huntingdon--sacrifice your soul?'

'Well, I would lay down life--'

'You would not be required to lay it down.'

'I would spend it, then--devote my life--and all its powers to the
promotion and preservation--'

'Another time, sir, we will talk of this--and I should have felt disposed
to judge more favourably of your pretensions, if you too had chosen
another time and place, and let me add--another manner for your
declaration.'

'Why, you see, Mrs. Maxwell,' he began--

'Pardon me, sir,' said she, with dignity--'The company are inquiring for
you in the other room.' And she turned to me.

'Then you must plead for me, Helen,' said he, and at length withdrew.

'You had better retire to your room, Helen,' said my aunt, gravely. 'I
will discuss this matter with you, too, to-morrow.'

'Don't be angry, aunt,' said I.

'My dear, I am not angry,' she replied: 'I am surprised. If it is true
that you told him you could not accept his offer without our consent--'

'It is true,' interrupted I.

'Then how could you permit--?'

'I couldn't help it, aunt,' I cried, bursting into tears. They were not
altogether the tears of sorrow, or of fear for her displeasure, but
rather the outbreak of the general tumultuous excitement of my feelings.
But my good aunt was touched at my agitation. In a softer tone, she
repeated her recommendation to retire, and, gently kissing my forehead,
bade me good-night, and put her candle in my hand; and I went; but my
brain worked so, I could not think of