f I could have ventured to
believe that you expected to hear from me, or even wasted a thought upon
your unhappy friend; but your silence naturally led me to conclude myself
forgotten.'

'Did you expect me to write to you, then?'

'No, Helen--Mrs. Huntingdon,' said I, blushing at the implied imputation,
'certainly not; but if you had sent me a message through your brother, or
even asked him about me now and then--'

'I did ask about you frequently. I was not going to do more,' continued
she, smiling, 'so long as you continued to restrict yourself to a few
polite inquiries about my health.'

'Your brother never told me that you had mentioned my name.'

'Did you ever ask him?'

'No; for I saw he did not wish to be questioned about you, or to afford
the slightest encouragement or assistance to my too obstinate
attachment.' Helen did not reply. 'And he was perfectly right,' added
I. But she remained in silence, looking out upon the snowy lawn. 'Oh, I
will relieve her of my presence,' thought I; and immediately I rose and
advanced to take leave, with a most heroic resolution--but pride was at
the bottom of it, or it could not have carried me through.

'Are you going already?' said she, taking the hand I offered, and not
immediately letting it go.

'Why should I stay any longer?'

'Wait till Arthur comes, at least.'

Only too glad to obey, I stood and leant against the opposite side of the
window.

'You told me you were not changed,' said my companion: 'you are--very
much so.'

'No, Mrs. Huntingdon, I only ought to be.'

'Do you mean to maintain that you have the same regard for me that you
had when last we met?'

'I have; but it would be wrong to talk of it now.'

'It was wrong to talk of it then, Gilbert; it would not now--unless to do
so would be to violate the truth.'

I was too much agitated to speak; but, without waiting for an answer, she
turned away her glistening eye and crimson cheek, and threw up the window
and looked out, whether to calm her own, excited feelings, or to relieve
her embarrassment, or only to pluck that beautiful half-blown
Christmas-rose that grew upon the little shrub without, just peeping from
the snow that had hitherto, no doubt, defended it from the frost, and was
now melting away in the sun. Pluck it, however, she did, and having
gently dashed the glittering powder from its leaves, approached it to her
lips and said:

'This rose is not so fragrant as a summer flowe