desolate again while you are in the world, for you are to me as a dear sister, and counsellor, and friend. Do not seek to dissuade me from what is evidently pointed out to me as my duty."

Effie forbore from making any further attempts to influence her cousin, but her presence was a perpetual relief and pleasure to her. All she said came tinged with the bright colouring of hope, and all her desire seemed to be, in utter forgetfulness of self, to watch over her comfort all day long, and to ward off every word or deed that could bring the shadow of annoyance to her. And thus some days passed away. She had not given up her own secret hope that Helen should live with her, and had already written to her father on the subject; and she had such strong faith in Mrs. Thornton's influence with Helen, that she resolved to engage her as an ally, to convince her that she was mistaken in her determination. There was no need to keep the matter secret any longer, for it was already in the village; and one morning, after breakfast, Effie went out by herself, with the inten

tion of having a quiet talk with Mrs. Thornton. She was the more anxious to do this, as among the letters received that morning, was one from a lady to whom Mrs. Herbert had applied, and though Effie knew that nothing would be undertaken immediately, she had the greatest possible dread of an engagement being entered into

Mrs. Thornton entered most warmly into her young friend's feelings. She loved Helen herself, and felt most deeply for her, but did not like to do anything, until some opening for her sympathy was made, lest it might seem intrusive. She promised to use her utmost influence, but, at the same time, she told Effie that, from her knowledge of her cousin's character, she felt certain it would be useless.

"Why, Mrs. Thornton, why should it be?" "Because, my dear, in a case like this, it is a great relief to the mind to summon up its own powers, and it feels a comfort in selfreliance, which nothing else seems able to bestow. One shrinks for a long time after such

a disappointment, from anything approaching to dependence; and I know I should feel so, were I in your cousin's place; but I will try still."

"Thank you, dear Mrs. Thornton; you cannot think how Helen loves you, and I think it would be a great comfort to her to see you."

"Then I will come down to-day, my dear; I have been longing to go."

"Will you come now?"

"Yes, if you will wait for me a few minutes."

Helen was indeed very glad to see her kind friend. It is true she had only known her three months; but there is a sympathy in some natures, which draws them together at once. There seem to be no barriers, for time or longer acquaintance to break down, but they read one another like an open book, and understand as if by intuition.

Mrs. Thornton had judged Helen rightly. She was not to be shaken in her resolution,

and her friend could not wonder at it. They then talked over the letter which had been that morning received. Helen thought it promised fair, and she fetched it, and read it aloud. She was quite inclined now to look upon the bright side of everything, and seemed to have no misgivings for the future. "I think," said she, "my last two years have been a very good preparation for my new life. I do not think I am likely to have greater trials than I have had during this time; and I think I shall be well able to bear them, whatever they are."

It seemed a great relief to Helen to unburthen all her thoughts and cares to Mrs. Thornton, who sat silently looking at her for some time, and seemed absorbed in thought.

"I am afraid I am wearying you," said she at length, "and you are very kind to listen so patiently to me."

"Miss Burnet, I am wondering how to say to you what I long to say. I have a great favour to ask of you."