e between
them. I saw him sometimes writing to her with her picture before him.

"What do you suppose he writes about?" Harry used to ask me on such
occasions. "She cares little enough about fine sentiments, even if he
were given to that sort of thing; and I can't believe that he is very
ostentatious in declaring his passion. I don't think she will ever pass
that criticism upon his epistles that some old party did upon a pudding:
'Too many plums and not enough suet.' I confess I cannot guess how he
contrives to fill his six regulation pages."

"I don't see that it concerns us, at all events."

"Very true. But she would show me his letters if I asked her to. I
wonder how Jack likes a certain ease she has in other men's society?
What claws are to a cat, what the sting is to the bee, what its poison
is to the upas tree, coquetry is to Georgy Lenox. I wish him joy of
her, but wash my hands of the engagement."

He spoke with some heat, which was his wont in every allusion to Jack's
love-affair. But I knew that Harry had a dozen flirtations on hand, and
the fatalest effect of the false is its power of destroying our delicate
and just perception of the true.

CHAPTER IX.

My mother, on her return, had gone at once to her sister, Mrs. Woolsey
of New York, and remained with her until she joined me for a Christmas
visit at Mr. Raymond's. Three years had passed since I was there, and
the three years had changed Helen from a mere child into a slim maiden
of almost fourteen, tall and stately for her years. Mr. Raymond seemed
no older and no feebler: his eyes held the old restless fire, the only
reminiscence of youthful power about him; he was still anxiously served
and tended, and in this cold season huddled before the fires covered
with furs, a tiger-skin over his knees, his pale hands clasping his
wrappings together at the throat. He was considerate for my mother's
comfort, as a host should be, and he betrayed an eager curiosity and
interest concerning my infirmity; which showed his care for me, but
which I resented as an intrusion. For I had reached the point when it
was easy for me to endure the fact that I was unlike other men in my
physical strength, but was not yet sufficiently resigned to it to bear
questioning or sympathy. Helen never alluded to it, and although at
first she tried to save me footsteps, she had tact enough to give up
even that evidence of any knowledge of my weakness. Indeed, she was shy
of me now: