f course in his heart he feels above us all," and opening
her window she leaned her hot cheek against the wet casement, and looked
out upon the night, now so beautiful and clear, for the rain was over,
and up in the heavens the bright stars were shining, each one bearing
some resemblance to Mark's eyes as they kindled and grew bright with his
excitement, resting always kindly on her--on Helen, who, leaning thus
from the window, felt stealing over her that feeling which, once born,
can never be quite forgotten.

Helen did not recognize the feeling, for it was a strange one to her.
She was only conscious of a sensation half pleasurable, half sad, of
which Mark Ray had been the cause, and which she tried in vain to put
aside, wondering what he thought of them all, and if he did not secretly
despise them even while making himself so familiar. And then there swept
over her a feeling of desolation such as she had never experienced
before, a shrinking from living all her life in Silverton, as she fully
expected to do, and laying her head upon the little stand, she cried
passionately.

"This is weak, this is folly," she suddenly exclaimed, as she became
conscious of acting as Helen Lennox was not wont to act, and with a
strong effort of the will she dried her tears and crept quietly to bed
just as Mark was falling into his first sleep, and dreaming of
smothering.

Helen would not have acknowledged it, and yet it was a truth not to be
denied, that she stayed next morning a much longer time than usual
before her glass, arranging her hair, which was worn more becomingly
than on the previous night, softening the somewhat too intellectual
expression of her face, and making her seem more womanly and modest.
Once she thought to wear the light buff gown in which she looked so
well, but the thought was repudiated as soon as formed, and donning the
same dark calico she would have worn if Mark had not been there, she
finished her simple toilet and went downstairs, just as Mark came in at
the side door, his hands full of water lilies and his boots bearing
marks of what he had been through to get them.

"Early country air is healthful," he said, "and as I do not often have a
chance to try it I thought I would improve the present opportunity! So I
have been down by the pond, and spying these lilies I persevered until I
reached them, in spite of mud and mire. There is no blossom I like so
well. Were I a young girl I would always wear one