ness.

She was returning one evening from the cabin at a rather later hour than
usual, for she was becoming more and more courageous, and could walk
through the woods without starting at every sound. The trees were now
beginning to assume the magnificent hues of autumn, and glowed with
mingled scarlet, orange, emerald, and purple. There was such a
brightness, such a glory in these variegated dyes, that they took away
all impression of loneliness, and the crumpling of the dry, yellow
leaves in the path had a sociable, pleasant sound. She hoped Arthur
Hazleton would return before this jewelry of the woods had faded away,
that she might walk with him through their gorgeous foliage, and hear
from his lips the deep moral of the waning season. She reached the gray
rock where Arthur had seated her, and sitting down on a thick cushion of
fallen leaves, she remembered every word he had said to her the evening
before his departure.

"Why are you sitting so mute and lonely here, fair Helen?" said a
musical voice close to her ear, and Clinton suddenly came and took a
seat by her side. Helen felt embarrassed by his unexpected presence, and
wished that she could free herself from it without rudeness.

"I am gazing on the beauty of the autumnal woods," she replied, her
cheeks glowing like the scarlet maple leaves.

"I should think such contemplation better fitted one less young and
bright and fair," said Clinton. "Miss Thusa, for instance, in her
time-gray home.

"I am sure nothing can be brighter or more glorious than these colors,"
said Helen, making a motion to rise. It seemed to her she could see the
black eyes of Mittie gleaming at her through the rustling foliage.

"Do not go yet," said Clinton. "This is such a sweet, quiet hour--and it
is the first time I have seen you alone since the morning after your
arrival. What have I done that you shun me as an enemy, and refuse me
the slightest token of confidence and regard?"

"I am not conscious of showing such great avoidance," said Helen, more
and more embarrassed. "I am so much of a stranger, and it seemed so
natural that you should prefer the society of Mittie, I considered my
absence a favor to both."

"Till you came," he replied, in a low, persuasive accent, "I did find a
charm in her society unknown before, but now I feel every thought and
feeling and hope turned into a new channel. Even before you came, I
felt you were to be my destiny. Stay, Helen, you shall not leav