th his blithesome
laugh,--"you, my sweet Helen, much better than nymph or sylphid, about
whom, between ourselves, I never cared three straws, even in a poem. How
pleased you will be with Laughton! Do you know, I was lying awake all
last night to consider what room you would like best for your own? And
at last I have decided. Come, listen,--it opens from the music-gallery
that overhangs the hall. From the window you overlook the southern side
of the park, and catch a view of the lake beyond. There are two niches
in the wall,--one for your piano, one for your favourite books. It
is just large enough to hold four persons with ease,--our mother and
myself, your aunt, whom by that time we shall have petted into good
humour; and if we can coax Ardworth there,--the best good fellow that
ever lived,--I think our party will be complete. By the way, I am uneasy
about Ardworth, it is so long since we have seen him; I have called
three times,--nay, five,--but his odd-looking clerk always swears he is
not at home. Tell me, Helen, now you know him so well,--tell me how I
can serve him? You know, I am so terribly rich (at least, I shall be
in a month or two), I can never get through my money, unless my friends
will help me. And is it not shocking that that noble fellow should be
so poor, and yet suffer me to call him 'friend,' as if in friendship one
man should want everything, and the other nothing? Still, I don't know
how to venture to propose. Come, you understand me, Helen; let us lay
our wise heads together and make him well off, in spite of himself."

It was in this loose boyish talk of Percival that he had found the way,
not only to Helen's heart, but to her soul. For in this she (grand,
undeveloped poetess!) recognized a nobler poetry than we chain to
rhythm,--the poetry of generous deeds. She yearned to kiss the warm hand
she held, and drew nearer to his side as she answered: "And sometimes,
dear, dear Percival, you wonder why I would rather listen to you than to
all Mr. Varney's bitter eloquence, or even to my dear cousin's aspiring
ambition. They talk well, but it is of themselves; while you--"

Percival blushed, and checked her.

"Well," she said,--"well, to your question. Alas! you know little of
my cousin if you think all our arts could decoy him out of his rugged
independence; and much as I love him, I could not wish it. But do not
fear for him; he is one of those who are born to succeed, and without
help."

"How do