ey died away, and childhood wept itself to sleep.

But the next morning, when he heard his neighbour astir, he knocked
gently at her door: there was no answer. He entered softly, and saw
her seated very listlessly in the centre of the room,--as if it had no
familiar nook or corner as the rooms of home have, her hands drooping on
her lap, and her eyes gazing desolately on the floor. Then he approached
and spoke to her.

Helen was very subdued, and very silent. Her tears seemed dried up;
and it was long before she gave sign or token that she heeded him. At
length, however, he gradually succeeded in rousing her interest; and
the first symptom of his success was in the quiver of her lip, and the
overflow of her downcast eyes.

By little and little he wormed himself into her confidence; and she told
him in broken whispers her simple story. But what moved him the most
was, that beyond her sense of loneliness she did not seem to feel her
own unprotected state. She mourned the object she had nursed and
heeded and cherished, for she had been rather the protectress than the
protected to the helpless dead. He could not gain from her any more
satisfactory information than the landlady had already imparted, as to
her friends and prospects; but she permitted him passively to look among
the effects her father had left, save only that, if his hand touched
something that seemed to her associations especially holy, she waved him
back, or drew it quickly away. There were many bills receipted in the
name of Captain Digby, old yellow faded music-scores for the flute,
extracts of Parts from Prompt Books, gay parts of lively comedies,
in which heroes have so noble a contempt for money,--fit heroes for
a Sheridan and a Farquhar; close by these were several pawnbroker's
tickets; and, not arrayed smoothly, but crumpled up, as if with an
indignant nervous clutch of the helpless hands, some two or three
letters. He asked Helen's permission to glance at these, for they might
afford a clew to friends. Helen gave the permission by a silent bend of
the head. The letters, however, were but short and freezing answers from
what appeared to be distant connections or former friends, or persons
to whom the deceased had applied for some situation. They were all very
disheartening in their tone. Leonard next endeavoured to refresh
Helen's memory as to the name of the nobleman which had been last on her
father's lips; but there he failed wholly. For it may b