me; besides, Mrs. Howard is so kind to me, that I
cannot suffer _her_ friends to be neglected. Nay, Edward, you may look
as you please, but I certainly _shall_ go." Edward Lynne remonstrated,
implored, and, finally, flew into a passion. At any other time Helen's
proud spirit would have risen so as to meet this outburst of temper
with one to the full as violent; but the knowledge of what had grown
to maturity in her own mind, and the presence of Rose, restrained her,
and she continued to walk home without reply.

"And I shall go also," he said, bitterly, "but not with you." Even at
that moment Helen Marsh exulted in her own mind to find his words and
his steps at variance; he was still by her side. The most perilous of
all triumphs is the knowledge of possessing power over the affections
of our fellow creatures; it is so especially intoxicating to women as
to be greatly dangerous, and those who do not abuse such power deserve
much praise. Rose walked timidly behind them, wondering how Helen
could have imagined any alliance in the world more brilliant--but no,
that was not the idea--any alliance in the world so _happy_ as that
with Edward Lynne must be. When they reached the commencement of the
village, Edward said, for the fifth or sixth time, "Then you will go,
Helen?"

"Certainly."

"Very well, Helen. Good evening."

"Good evening, Edward," was the cool reply. Not one word of adieu did
he bestow on Rose as he dashed into another path; while his dog stood
for a moment, uncertain as to whether his master would return or not,
and then rapidly followed.

"Oh, Helen! what have you done?" murmured Rose. Helen replied by one
of those low murmuring laughs which sound like the very melody of
love; and the two girls, in a few moments more, were in their
own cottage, where Rose saw that evening, for the first time, the
gentleman whom Helen had declared she did not prefer to Edward, though
she would rather marry him.

CHAPTER III.

I think I have said before that the most trying and dangerous
position a young woman can occupy, is that where her station is not
defined--where she considers herself above the industrious classes
by whom she is surrounded--and where those with whom her tastes and
habits assimilate, consider her greatly beneath them. Superficial
observers (and the great mass of human beings are nothing more)
invariably look for happiness in the class one or two degrees above
their own. They would consi