more able to help them in this way.'

'I shall be near them,' said Leonard; 'I can watch over them. And
if--if--it is true what they say about Henry and Mrs. Pugh--then they
could have a cottage near the mill, and I could live with them. Don't
you see, Miss May?'

'Yes; but I question whether, on further acquaintance, you will wish
for your sisters to be with their relations there. The other course
would put you in the way of a better atmosphere for them.'

'But not for six years,' said Leonard. 'No, Miss May; to show you it
is not what you think in me, I will tell you that I had resolved the
last thing to ask Henry's pardon for my share in this unhappy
half-year; but this is the only resource for me or my sisters, and my
mind is made up.'

'O, Leonard, are you not deceiving yourself? Are the grapes ever so
sour, or the nightshade below so sweet, as when the fox has leapt too
short, and is too proud to climb?'

'Nightshade! Why, pray?'

'My father would tell you; I know he thinks your cousin no safe
companion.'

'I know that already, but I can keep out of his way.'

'Then this is the end of it,' said Ethel, feeling only half justified
in going so far, 'the end of all we thought and talked of at Coombe!'

There was a struggle in the boy's face, and she did not know whether
she had touched or angered him. 'I can't help it,' he said, as if he
would have recalled his former hardness; but then softening, 'No, Miss
May, why should it be? A man can do his duty in any state of life.'

'In any state of life where God has placed him; but how when it is his
own self-will?'

'There are times when one must judge for one's self.'

'Very well, then, I have done, Leonard. If you can conscientiously
feel that you are acting for the best, and not to gratify your pride,
then I can only say I hope you will be helped through the course you
have chosen. Good-bye.'

'But--Miss May--though I cannot take your advice--' he hesitated, 'this
is not giving me up?'

'Never, while you let me esteem you.'

'Thank you,' he said, brightening, 'that is something to keep my head
above water, even if this place were all you think it.'

'My father thinks,' said Ethel.

'I am engaged now; I cannot go back,' said Leonard. 'Thank you. Miss
May.'

'Thank you for listening patiently,' said Ethel. 'Good-bye.'

'And--and,' he added earnestly, following her back to the house, 'you
do not think the Coombe days cancelled?'

'If