impulses she dared not resist. She must warn her. She must stretch
out her arm, weak though it was, to save her.

"Helen! dear Helen, listen to me!" she said, kneeling before her, and
throwing an arm around her neck, while she laid her hand on her
cousin's. Helen, astonished, dropped her book, and remained passive,
while May besought her by her hopes of heaven to accompany her the next
morning to confession, or go alone, as both could not leave home
together; then set before her in eloquent and soul-touching language
the peril into which her prevarications were leading her.

"You are mad, May.--decidedly mad; I intend to better my condition if I
can, and be a Catholic too. I am only conciliating this crusty old
wretch, who has us both in his power; then, you know, we may bring him
around after awhile," she said, carelessly.

"Oh, Helen! we _cannot_ serve two masters, even for a season; nor can
we handle pitch without becoming defiled. Believe me, this kind of
conciliation, as it is called, is fraught with evil," said May,
earnestly.

"You are right about the pitch, May. He is truly as disagreeable as
pitch; but, indeed, I will endeavor to handle him with gloves on," said
Helen, laughing; "and I _won't_ go to confession until I am ready."

"I alluded to my uncle's opinions and principles, for, Helen, he is an
unbeliever!" said May, sighing, as she turned away to go up to bed.

"Don't make any more scenes, little dear; really, you startle one
almost into spasms," continued the heartless and beautiful one. "I