iews of Harley, and little dreamed that he was to anticipate a
daughter-in-law in the ward, whom he understood Harley, in a freak of
generous romance, had adopted, was familiar and courteous, as became a
host; but he looked upon Helen as a mere child, and naturally left
her to the countess. The dim sense of her equivocal position, of her
comparative humbleness of birth and fortunes, oppressed and pained her;
and even her gratitude to Harley was made burdensome by a sentiment of
helplessness. The grateful long to requite. And what could she ever do
for him?

Thus musing, she wandered alone through the curving walks; and this sort
of mock-country landscape--London loud, and even visible, beyond the
high gloomy walls, and no escape from the windows of the square formal
house--seemed a type of the prison bounds of Rank to one whose soul
yearns for simple loving Nature.

Helen's revery was interrupted by Nero's joyous bark. He had caught
sight of her, and came bounding up, and thrust his large head into her
hand. As she stooped to caress the dog, happy at his honest greeting,
and tears that had been long gathering at the lids fell silently on his
face (for I know nothing that more moves us to tears than the hearty
kindness of a dog, when something in human beings has pained or chilled
us), she heard behind the musical voice of Harley. Hastily she dried or
repressed her tears, as her guardian came up, and drew her arm within
his own.

"I had so little of your conversation last evening, my dear ward, that
I may well monopolize you now, even to the privation of Nero. And so you
are once more in your native land?"

Helen sighed softly.

"May I not hope that you return under fairer auspices than those which
your childhood knew?"

Helen turned her eyes with ingenuous thankfulness to her guardian, and
the memory of all she owed to him rushed upon her heart.

Harley renewed, and with earnest, though melancholy sweetness, "Helen,
your eyes thank me; but hear me before your words do. I deserve no
thanks. I am about to make to you a strange confession of egotism and
selfishness."

"You!--oh, impossible!"

"Judge yourself, and then decide which of us shall have cause to be
grateful. Helen, when I was scarcely your age--a boy in years, but
more, methinks, a man at heart, with man's strong energies and sublime
aspirings, than I have ever since been--I loved, and deeply--"

He paused a moment, in evident struggle. Helen listen