chair in its usual corner, and handed him his slippers. May made two
or three observations to him in her own cheerful way, but he barely
replied, and desired her not to interrupt him again. Her heart
swelled, and her cheeks flushed, but she remembered the _aim of her
life_, and was silent.

"Do you play on the piano?" said Mr. Stillinghast, abruptly, to Helen.

"No, sir; I play on the harp," she replied, amazed.

"Do you play well?"

"My master thought so, sir."

"I will order one for you to-morrow. I expect company to tea to-morrow
evening, so put on any fandangos you have got."

"Yes, sir," she replied, while her face sparkled with delight; "I can
never thank you, sir."

"I don't want you to, so be quiet, and do as I bid you," he replied,
roughly.

"Poor Helen!" thought May; "poor--poor Helen! 'they seek after her
soul,' and she, oh, weak one! _how_ will she resist without the
sacraments?"

After Mr. Stillinghast retired, and they were left alone, Helen again
opened a French novel to resume her reading, without exchanging a word
with her cousin. Thoughts and emotions were flooding May's soul with