know my own mind, and
ought not to engage myself till I had seen more of the world.'

'How old were you?'

'Nineteen.'

'Nineteen! If you did not know your own mind then, when could you?'

John smiled, and replied, 'It was better to have such a motive. My
position was one of temptation, and this was a safeguard as well as a
check on idle prosperity. An incentive to exertion, too; for my father
held out a hope that if I continued in the same mind, and deserved his
confidence, he would consent in a few years, but on condition I should
neither say nor do anything to show my feelings.'

'Then you never told her?'

'No.'

'I should not have liked that at all. But she must have guessed.'

'She went with her mother to live in Lancashire, with old Mr. and Mrs.
Percival, at Elsdale. There she lost her mother.'

'How long did it go on before Lord Martindale consented?' asked Violet,
breathlessly.

'Five years, but at last he was most kind. He did fully appreciate her.
I went to Elsdale'--and he paused. 'For a little while it was more than
I can well bear to remember.'

'You gave her the cross?' said Violet, presently.

'On her next birthday. Well, then came considerations. Old Mrs. Percival
was nearly blind, and could hardly move from her chair, the grandfather
was very infirm, and becoming imbecile. His mind had never been clear
since his daughter's death, and he always took Helen for her. She was
everything to them.'

'And they would not spare her?'

'She asked me what was to be done. She put it entirely in my hands,
saying she did not know where her duty lay, and she would abide by my
decision.'

'Then it was you! I can't think how you could.'

'I trust it was not wrong. So asked, I could not say she ought to leave
those poor old people to their helplessness for my sake, and I could not
have come to live with them, for it was when I was in Parliament, and
there were other reasons. We agreed, then, that she should not leave
them in her grandfather's lifetime, and that afterwards Mrs. Percival
should come to our home, Brogden, as we thought it would be. Indeed,
Violet, it was a piteous thing to hear that good venerable old lady
entreating my pardon for letting Helen devote herself, saying, she would
never have permitted it but for Mr. Percival, for what would become of
him without his granddaughter--hoping they would not long stand in
our way, and promising us the blessing that Helen enjoys. We could not
r