THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 /& c 
 

 
 
 
 
 X
 
 Old Dugald, the blind harper. p. U.
 
 HELEN MACGREGOR ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. C. Y. BARLOW. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 J. C. GARRIGUES & CO., 
 
 No. 148 SOUTH FOURTH STREET. 
 
 1805.
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 
 
 J. C. GARRIQUES & CO., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 Jas. B. Kodgera, Pr. 
 52 * 54 X. 6th St.
 
 ps 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE HIGHLAND HOME 
 
 II. 
 
 THE LOAN 21 
 
 III. 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 37 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL 49 
 
 V. 
 DARK HOURS .. W
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A NEW HOME 78 
 
 VII. 
 THE DOBCAS SOCIETY. 95 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE DAY OP REST Ill 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE BROKEN PITCHER 127 
 
 X. 
 
 REPENTANCE 139 
 
 XI. 
 
 BARBARA'S CONFESSION. 154 
 
 XII. 
 
 MK. NELSON'S FARM ... 165
 
 CONTENTS. 5 
 
 XIII. 
 HELEN AT OAKDALE 183 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE TEA PARTY 196 
 
 XV. 
 
 SELF-SACRIFICE 212 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE REQUEST 228 
 
 XVII. 
 THE LITTLE SCHOOL 243 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 WINTER 255 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ANOTHER HOME 265 
 
 1 *
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 XX. 
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 281 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE DECISION 291 
 
 XXII. 
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE 305 
 
 XXIII. 
 HAPPY DAYS 316 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 CONCLUSION ... 326
 
 HELEN MAC&REGOR. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE HIGSLAJTJ) HOME. 
 
 "All twinkling with the dew-drop's sheen 
 The brier-rose fell in streamers green, 
 And creeping shrubs, of thousand dyes, 
 Waved in the west wind's summer sighs. 
 Boon nature scattered free and wild 
 Each plant or flower, the mountain's child." 
 
 niJNLIGHT, the glorious sunlight of a summer 
 1^ morning in the Highlands of Scotland, was 
 glinting with its early splendor the mountain tops, 
 but had not yet reached the dark moor, the loch, nor 
 the deep vale of the Scraggan Glen. On the edge 
 of the wild moor stood a solitary cottage, or rather 
 hut, built of turf. Everything around it looked 
 neglected, and it lacked that air of neatness which 
 usually distinguishes the Scottish farm house.
 
 8 HELEN MACGKEtEGOR; OR, 
 
 There was some attempt at a rude garden, which 
 had been won from the waste around, but the en 
 closure was broken, and a small Highland cow 
 was walking through it, and making herself per 
 fectly at home by eating whatever took her fancy. 
 A rough bench, on which were some fishing-rods, 
 stood outside of the door, and some dozen dogs lay 
 in different directions, within a few yards of the 
 hut. 
 
 This poor dwelling, with its squalid poverty, con 
 trasted ill with the beauty of the scene around it. 
 Through the sweet freshness of the early morning 
 the eye looked to the dark back-ground of the 
 mountains, clothed to the very summits with the 
 sturdy oak and lofty pine, near whose gnarled 
 roots 
 
 " The primrose pale, and violet flower, 
 Found in each cliff a narrow bower;" 
 
 to the moor, covered with the wild heath flower, 
 on whose every bell hung the dew tears of morn 
 waiting the warm kiss of the sun ; to the loch in 
 its calm beauty; to the little cataract, "that laugh 
 of the mountain," with its noisy babble ; while the 
 ear drank in the thrilling notes of the forest song 
 sters. It was a lovely spot, such as a hermit
 
 CONQUEST A-TiTD SACRIFICE. 
 
 might choose, to "look through nature up to na 
 ture's God." 
 
 The door of the hut opened, and a young girl 
 came out. Bounding with light step to where the 
 little mountain stream made its last jump for the 
 valley, she stooped and bathed her face in the stone 
 basin which caught its waters. Then dipping 
 in her long dark hair, she sat down on the grass, 
 and soon twisted it into curls, which she bound 
 with a scarlet ribbon. This scarlet snood was 
 Helen's only ornament, and she prized it highly. 
 Her father returning once from a distant parish 
 had, in an unusual fit of liberality, bought it for 
 her. She immediately threw away the old faded 
 blue, and, notwithstanding Margaret's scolding, 
 continued to wear it altogether, laughingly declar 
 ing that when that was gone her father would 
 buy her another. Her simple toilet finished, 
 Helen sank back in the heather, unmindful of 
 dew, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of the 
 hour. Passionately she loved all nature, true 
 mountain child that she was. The bird, the bee, 
 and the flower were her sole playmates, and many 
 an hour of precious time did Helen lose in vague 
 dreaming.
 
 10 HELEN MACGKREGOR; OR,, 
 
 The sun peeped into the Scraggan Glen, and 
 lighted up the old hut into a sort of wild beauty, 
 but all unmindful of his burning presence, the girl 
 still reclined, with her elbow on the ground, and 
 her head on her hand. 
 
 "Helen! Helen!" called a sharp voice, and a 
 little wrinkled old woman, dressed in a blue skirt 
 and short gown, came out of the hut, and shading 
 her eyes from the sun with her hand, looked round 
 for the missing child. 
 
 Helen rose slowly, and walked leisurely towards 
 her. "What is it, Margie? Here I am." 
 
 "What is it, Margie? Did any one ever see 
 such a daft bairn? Is there nothing to do, do ye 
 think, of a wash day, but to be learning a sang of 
 the cuckoo, or laying ye're thriftless length in the 
 heather? Ye don't earn your salt." 
 
 "And why should I earn my salt?" asked 
 Helen, with a gay laugh. "Now, Margaret, have 
 not you told me, hundreds of times, that I was the 
 daughter of a MacGregor, and that the MacGregors 
 were born ladies and gentlemen? And now you 
 ask me to work! I'm astonished at you, Marga 
 ret!" 
 
 Fun danced in Helen's eyes, as with a very long
 
 CONQTJTGST A.TXT) SACRIFICE. 11 
 
 face she made this speech, and then turned to play 
 with the dogs. 
 
 This saucy reply, so far from vexing the old 
 woman, seemed to afford her an immense amount 
 of pleasure. She went into the hut, chuckling to 
 herself, and repeating, "Oh, she's the canny one, 
 she has the real old bluid, the real old bluid," 
 and the thoughts thus occasioned made her old 
 face smile for the next half hour, as memory re 
 called the days of her youth, when a bright Scotch 
 lassie, she had waited on Helen's grandmother, and 
 carried Helen's mother in her arms, in the grand 
 days of the MacGregors. And so it happened 
 now, that the saucier Helen was, and the more au 
 thority she assumed, the better it pleased the faith 
 ful old servant, who fondly saw in it a remnant of 
 the ancient aristocratic spirit, showing itself in the 
 midst of poverty. She was used to her young 
 mistress's moods. It did not therefore surprise her 
 when, upon coming out with the tubs, she saw 
 Helen unfasten her gay plaid, and merrily help to 
 carry the clothes down to the loch. Margaret 
 hated new styles and customs, and thought what 
 ever was oldest was always best. Therefore put 
 ting some clothes in a tub, and pouring fresh water
 
 12 HKTL.EN M.A.CGHtEGKm ; OR, 
 
 on them from the loch, she motioned to Helen 
 who with a meny bound jumped in, and com 
 menced treading the clothes with her bare feet. 
 She danced about, and splashed the water in her 
 very face, and not a little fell to Margaret's share, 
 who was industriously tramping in another tub. 
 But the higher the water splashed, the louder 
 rang Helen's clear laugh, till old Ben None caught 
 up the echo, and repeated the rippling notes, far 
 off among the hills. 
 
 But old Margaret, who the better pleased she 
 was, the more she grumbled, muttered crossly, 
 
 "Ye're as crazy as a loon." 
 
 "Ah, well, Margie, no loon to-day is as happy 
 as Helen MacGregor." 
 
 "Happy!" exclaimed the old woman, treading 
 more vigorously, "little happiness contents ye, if 
 ye find it here." 
 
 "A little!" said the girl, throwing off the water 
 from her dark hair, while the drops hung like 
 tears from her eyelashes, and deepened the crimson 
 on her cheek. "A little! why, what Highland 
 lassie climbs our mountains with as free a step as 
 I? I can find the brightest heather bells, and the 
 deadliest night-shade, and each streamlet's greenest
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 13 
 
 water-cresses, f know the witches' cave, and the 
 haunted hollow, where the fairies sing. Happy !" 
 she continued, with a gay laugh, "why I'm happy 
 treading these clothes, happy when I wait on surly 
 brother Malcom, happy here, now, and every 
 where. Oh, the world is full of pleasure!" 
 
 Margaret looked at her curiously, and half en 
 vious of the youth and joy she saw in that glow 
 ing face, she said, "Ah, weel, weel, ye always was 
 a strange bairn. Hand out the clothes. Ye're 
 born, but ye're ne'er buried, and there's mony a 
 lang path with no light to it." 
 
 "No matter, Margie, I'm not the lassie to 
 beckon a sorrow that may never come." 
 
 "It will come. It will come," was the reply. 
 "I've seen the ruined hearth-stone, once the hame 
 of the MacGregor, on which rests the stranger's 
 foot. I've heard the Ban Schie wail for the last 
 chieftain, and I see the lone hut in the Scraggan 
 Glen, where my poor bairn is growing up like 
 the wild roe of the mountain, untaught, unloved. 
 Ah, woe to the ending!" 
 
 " Margaret, it is enough," answered Helen, and 
 the tears for a moment moistened her eyes, "when 
 sorrow really comes, the daughter of the Gael must 
 
 2
 
 14 HELEN MACGHtKOOR; OR, 
 
 learn to bind her plaid o'er a brof en heart, with 
 out a murmur." 
 
 She stood a moment in thought, then shaking 
 her head, she recommenced in a gay tone, "but, 
 Margaret, why will you recall the past, and sigh 
 over the uncertain future? You cast the gloam 
 ing over the beauty of this sunshine. You tire 
 me. You vex me. I will not be sad. Good luck 
 ever attends the brave and loving, and no wicked 
 fairy shall have the power to mar the bright future 
 of a true daughter of Scotland's mountains. See 
 yonder on the rocks is old blind Dugald, the min 
 strel. Good-bye, then; I seek more cheerful com 
 pany." 
 
 And Helen, wrapping her plaid around her once 
 more, sprang lightly up the rocky pathway. 
 
 No word had passed her lips, of faith in the 
 over-ruling providence of God. None, of his gra 
 cious promises to those in trouble or affliction. 
 Good and bad luck, and good and bad influences 
 and omens, were the only religion in which Helen 
 believed. Her lather never went to the kirk, nor 
 ever troubled himself about his soul's salvation, 
 and as the nearest parish was some miles distant, 
 and Helen had never been taught to go, she staid
 
 CONQUEST A^NT> SACRIFICE. 15 
 
 away also. Thus in a country abounding in gos 
 pel privileges, Helen was growing up as wild, un 
 tutored, and careless, as her own mountain flowers. 
 The superstitious tales of an old woman, mixed 
 with her own wild fancies, were her chief mental 
 food. True, the minister did leave his comfortable 
 manse, and walk the bleak moor as often as pos 
 sible to the solitary cottage, for the good of its in 
 mates, but he seldom saw Helen, for she was 
 nearly always away on some wild expedition of 
 her own, and the reception he met with from Don 
 ald MacGregor, was such, that he was loath to 
 repeat his unwelcome visit. So Helen drank in 
 the beauty and life around her, without one grate 
 ful thought of the bountiful Giver. 
 
 "Good morning, Dugald," she said, seating her 
 self beside him, " I have come to hear the saddest, 
 weirdest song ye know." 
 
 The old man touched the harp that lay beside 
 him, and brought forth a few sad notes, then stop 
 ping suddenly, he asked, 
 
 "What shadow rests on the mountain's pride 
 to-day, that her voice is sad?" 
 
 "Margaret has been scolding and worrying." 
 
 The old man shook his head, and with a smile
 
 16 HELEN MACQ-REQOR; OR, 
 
 replied, "Well does Dugald Stuart know, that 
 when Margaret scolds, Helen laughs. But it is 
 wrong to cast the saddened visions of age over the 
 bright dreams of youth. Who expects yonder tiny 
 cataract, babbling and leaping in the morning sun 
 light, to rest calm and placid as the loch, sleeping 
 in the deep shadow of the mountain?" 
 
 Helen was indolently reclining on the rock, 
 waiting for the song, but seeing the old man lost 
 in a reverie, after his last words, she sat up, and 
 taking the harp, struck a few notes, and then in a 
 clear, ringing voice, commenced singing an ancient 
 war-song. 
 
 The old man, roused from his musing by her 
 wild song, listened with pleased attention. Helen, 
 with her love for music, her sweet voice, and her 
 buoyant spirits, had won years ago her way to the old 
 minstrel's heart. He was a lonely man. Afflicted 
 from childhood with blindness, he made a scanty 
 living by wandering about, playing on his harp. 
 Helen never had anything to give, yet Dugald had 
 taught her to play almost as well as he could; and 
 the remembrance of Helen's merry laugh, and 
 joyful welcome, often turned his footsteps towards 
 the Scraggan Glen, where indeed he was treated as
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 17 
 
 an honored guest; for Helen ever longed to hear 
 his sweet music, and heroic songs, and Margaret 
 was ready to lend an ear to any gossip that might 
 be afloat in the distant parishes. 
 
 As Helen sang, another listener was added to 
 her audience. Emerging from behind a projecting 
 rock, some distance above, a gentleman seated him 
 self, and looked down upon the scene below. He 
 had an artist's eye for the picturesque, and the 
 sight which burst upon his view charmed him into 
 silence. The beautiful loch, bordered by blooming 
 heather, the old hut looking red and warm in the 
 sunlight, the still dark glen stretching far away, 
 sleeping in the shadows of the majestic trees on 
 the rock below him the old man with his head 
 thrown back in a listening attitude, and his white 
 hair streaming in the wind, the young girl by his 
 side, her plaid thrown carelessly on one shoulder, 
 her hand resting on the harp, her eyes sparkling 
 with enthusiasm, and her beaming face answering 
 to the joy-notes of her musical soul, all joined to 
 form a picture that would have attracted even an 
 indifferent observer. The song again commenced. 
 This time it was a coronach, or ancient Highland 
 
 7 O 
 
 dirge, on the death of a chieftain. 
 2* B
 
 18 HI^X-jEN" HVLA-CQ-REGl-OR,; OR,, 
 
 CORONACH. 
 
 " He is gone on the mountain, 
 
 He is lost to the forest, 
 Like a summer-dried fountain, 
 
 When our need was the sorest. 
 The font, reappearing, 
 
 From the rain-drops shall borrow, 
 But to us comes no cheering, 
 
 To Duncan no morrow ! 
 
 " The hand of the reaper 
 
 Takes the ears that are hoary, 
 But the voice of the weeper 
 
 Wails manhood in glory. 
 The autumn winds rushing 
 
 Waft the leaves that are searest, 
 But our flower was in flushing, 
 
 When blighting was nearest. 
 
 " Fleet foot on the correi, 
 
 Sage counsel in cumber, 
 Bed hand in the foray, 
 
 How sound is thy slumber ! 
 Like the dew on the mountain, 
 
 Like the foam on the river, 
 Like the bubble on the fountain, 
 
 Thou art gone, and forever I" 
 
 The song ended with wild thrilling sweetness, 
 and the stranger came down the narrow pathway, 
 and advanced to where they were sitting. Dugald 
 instantly touched Helen's hand, saying,
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 19 
 
 "A strange step, my lassie," and turned his 
 sightless eye-balls towards the stranger. 
 
 Helen glanced hastily up, and judging the gen 
 tleman from his dress to be a clergyman, she rose 
 and courtesied. The clergyman, for such he really 
 was, after wishing them good morning, sat down 
 on the rock, and entered into conversation, with 
 the ease of a polished gentleman. There was 
 something in the pleasant tones of his voice, that 
 won the ear of the blind minstrel, and he soon 
 found himself in an earnest dissertation on ancient 
 poetry and song. Helen had been brought up in 
 too free and careless a manner to dread the pres 
 ence of a stranger; indeed she rather hailed his 
 arrival with delight, as a pleasant variety to the 
 monotony of her existence. Besides, Helen, with 
 the quick instinct of a child, noticed that all his 
 conversation bespoke a deep reverence for religion, 
 which she admired but had never been taught to 
 imitate. And there was something in the bright 
 blue eye, and kind]y smile, which would have won 
 a confidence harder to gain than Helen's. As it 
 was she sang for him song after song, and listened 
 with pleased attention to his instructive discourse. 
 
 Thus the sun reached the mark of high noon,
 
 20 HELEN" 
 
 ere the group on the rock were aware of it, and 
 Margaret's shrill tones were heard, summoning 
 Helen and Dugald to dinner. 
 
 The stranger, having walked many miles in 
 the bracing mountain air, was not loath to accept 
 Helen's cordial invitation to share their noon-day 
 meal. So he followed the light springy step of the 
 girl down the steep mountain path, with a little 
 more caution, but with equal readiness.
 
 II. 
 
 THE 
 
 "The sounds of thy streams in my spirit I bear 
 
 Farewell ! and a blessing be with thee, green land ! 
 On thy hearths, on thy halls, on thy pure mountain air, 
 On the chords of the harp, and the minstrel's free hand !" 
 
 AS the clergyman entered the hut, preceded by 
 Dugald and Helen, he took in at a rapid 
 glance the scene before him. The small room was 
 furnished in the simplest manner. A few wooden 
 chairs were to be seen, and a wooden table. On 
 one side was a rude kind of closet without a door, 
 and in the closet stood a few rough dishes; oppo 
 site to that the wall was ornamented with the ant 
 lers of a huge deer, supporting a long fowling- 
 piece. The table was spread with a snowy cloth, 
 and Margaret was bending over the fire, taking up 
 some fish, which emitted a very savory odor. In 
 one corner sat a tall, dark man, whose haughty fea 
 tures showed too plainly the ravages of time, and 
 
 21
 
 22 HELEN MA.CO-REOOR; OR, 
 
 of uncontrolled passions. Towards him Helen 
 advanced, saying, 
 
 " My father ! a stranger waits." 
 
 Donald MacGregor instantly rose, and the 
 clergyman was not a little astonished at the stately 
 politeness with which he was received. He judged 
 at once, that the man before him had not always 
 lived in that rude style. He saw with sorrow the 
 traces sin had left on that otherwise noble face ; 
 and he felt that, if affliction had fallen to his lot, 
 it had not been met with the submissive spirit of 
 the Christian, but had been repelled by his native 
 pride, as an unjust punishment, and had fallen as 
 a fatal shadow over the life before him. 
 
 And all this was too true. Donald MacGregor, 
 born to an ancient patrimony, and a high name, 
 had been cheated of the former by the dishonesty 
 of a relative, whom he loved as a brother ; and 
 from that day, with a cynical indifference, he 
 buried in obscurity the name and the talents, of 
 which he had once been so proud. He came to 
 live in this lonely cottage, in the wild Scraggan 
 Glen, followed by the faithful Margaret, who 
 would never forsake the children, Malcom and 
 Helen, whose mother had been dead several years.
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 23 
 
 Here, in this solitary spot, Donald gave him 
 self up to idleness and bitter musings. Day after 
 day he studied revenge, and cherished rebellious 
 thoughts. The relative who had wronged him 
 was a clergyman, and at once, with the sweeping 
 accusation of the headstrong, he denounced all re 
 ligion as foolishness, and all ministers as hypo 
 crites; forgetting, as some writer remarks, that 
 one of the greatest proofs of the worth of religion, 
 is that rogues are anxious to wear its livery, the 
 better to conceal their purposes, well knowing that 
 the name of Christian places its possessor above 
 suspicion. 
 
 The stranger introduced himself as the Rev. 
 Clement Ashton ; and it required all of Donald's 
 politeness to enable him to give a welcome, to an 
 swer the demands of Highland hospitality. But 
 whatever his feelings were, there was nothing in 
 his behaviour to indicate that his guest was not to 
 his liking. 
 
 The simple meal was ready. It consisted of a 
 plate of fish, a dish of potatoes, some oaten cakes, 
 and a pitcher of milk. But, ere it was partaken 
 of, Mr. Ashton, with a slight bow towards his host, 
 raised his hand, and asked the blessing of God
 
 24 HELEN MA-CGKREGOR; OR, 
 
 upon the meal before them. He well knew, from 
 the conversation he had held with Helen, that the 
 Lord was unhonored, and His name an unwel 
 come sound in that household ; but Mr. Ashton 
 had learned the command of His Divine Master, 
 to let his light shine before men. Aye, the deeper 
 the darkness, the more need, he felt, there was for 
 the redeeming light of the Sun of Righteousness. 
 So ignoring the fact that Donald would not talk 
 upon religious subjects, he skillfully turned each 
 topic towards the one great duty of life, which al 
 ways silenced MacGregor until that subject was 
 exhausted and a new one was introduced. 
 
 Donald was heartily glad when the dinner was 
 over, and making a graceful apology to his guest, 
 took his gun from the wall, and disappeared. 
 Old Dugald, the minstrel, went next. Margaret 
 commenced clearing the table, and Mr. Ashton 
 proposed that Helen should accompany him part 
 of the way on his homeward track. She joyfully 
 assented. Wandering over mount and moor was 
 her chief delight. Mr. Ashton had asked for 
 this walk, that he might talk to the young girl 
 of the dear Saviour. He never expected to see 
 her again, and he longed even in that brief time to
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 25 
 
 speak a few words, that might, through God's 
 grace, make a lasting impression. 
 
 They had wandered on for some time in silence, 
 Mr. Ashton drinking in the beauty of the scene 
 around him, and pondering how best to open the 
 subject ; while Helen ran lightly from one object to 
 another. At length they came to a wild hollow, 
 densely shaded by birch and oak, in which twi 
 light still lingered, although it was high noon. 
 Mr. Ashton gazed at the dewy freshness and wild 
 beauty of the dell, as it contrasted with the glare 
 of sunshine above, and was about proposing to 
 Helen that they should descend into it, when the 
 girl stopped, and seating herself in the shadow of 
 a tree, said smilingly, 
 
 "I can go no further. Yonder dell is the 
 home of the shaggy men ; you must not cross it ; 
 your path lies up this steep mountain ; the way is 
 long." 
 
 "Why should I not go through the dell?" 
 asked the clergyman, " I see no men there." 
 
 Helen gave a gay laugh, as she answered, " You 
 may look long ere you see them, but they are ever 
 there. Dinna ye ken that brownies and fairies are 
 
 hard to see? You can win the shaggy men by 
 3
 
 26 HELEN MA-CGKREGOR,; OR, 
 
 kindness sometimes, but ye must not enter their 
 homes." 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Ashton, "you have nothing to 
 fear from such folks." 
 
 "Fear!" said the girl, contemptuously, "I am a 
 daughter of the Gael; I never fear. Besides, the 
 canny people ne'er yet hurt a harmless lassie." 
 
 "You misunderstood me. I meant there was 
 nothing to fear from such people, because they do 
 not exist; there are no brownies and shaggy men." 
 
 Helen opened to their widest extent her great 
 brown eyes, and looked at him in amazement. 
 Brought up, and taught what little she knew, by 
 the ignorant and superstitious old Highland woman, 
 Margaret, at the tenderest age she had been fright 
 ened into obedience by the positive assurance, that 
 one of the shaggy men was even then outside the 
 door waiting to take her. When she was a little 
 older, Margie took delight in showing her all the 
 dark mysterious passages and caves around her wild 
 home, and in filling her childish mind with le 
 gends and superstitions, living now only in the 
 memories of the old. Helen's mind was clear and 
 sharp beyond her years. Her imagination loved 
 to revel in the ideal and beautiful, as well as the
 
 CONQUEST AND SA-CRIITICE. 27 
 
 fantastic and grotesque. Some of these marvellous 
 tales she neglected, as too improbable. But those 
 she liked best she retained, to add a kind of fright 
 ful charm to her lonely walks. And she so peo 
 pled the mountains around her with the bright 
 creations of her own fancy, tinged by Margaret's 
 superstitious tales, that she sometimes really imag 
 ined she saw forms deep in some dark cave or cleft 
 in the rock, and then starting away, she would 
 reach home so breathless and excited, that she 
 would be greeted by Margie's exclamation, "Did 
 ye see the Ban Schie?" meaning an old woman in 
 a long blue mantle, who, she believed, appeared to 
 foretell the death of some distinguished person. 
 But Helen, naturally courageous, would never ad 
 mit that she had been frightened; and indeed this 
 seldom occurred. She had learned to love these 
 fairy imaginings, and to feel a tender interest in 
 these children of her fancy. She never plucked a 
 flower from the fairy grotto, although the flowers 
 there were most beautiful. She trod with the 
 lightest, and most careful step over their dancing 
 ground, until she persuaded herself, as they must 
 know all this, that they must have learned to love 
 her. Indeed these fairy spirits, and her father's
 
 28 HELEN MLA-CGKREGKXR; OR, 
 
 dogs, were Helen's sole companions. No wonder 
 then that she looked astonished at any one doubt 
 ing the existence of creatures that seemed living 
 realities to her. She dropped her eyes, and shook 
 her head, with a bright smile at Mr. Ashton's re 
 mark, as much as to say, "How foolish you are!" 
 
 The clergyman waited a while, then asked, 
 
 "Have you ever seen any of these little shaggy 
 men?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, often." 
 
 It was now Mr. Ashton's turn to smile. Helen 
 looked up and caught the expression. 
 
 "Well, well, you do not believe it. Come here 
 at the gloaming, and sit on yonder rock until 
 night has clothed the mountain, and you will 
 doubt no more." 
 
 Mr. Ashton did not answer at once. He was 
 thinking how he could best convince the child 
 that she was wrong. He felt that merely contra 
 dicting her would do no good. He glanced 
 thoughtfully at the animated face and speaking 
 eyes, and sighed to think, "She knows nothing of 
 the lovely Redeemer: nothing of the bright home 
 he has gone to prepare. How my Miriam would 
 love this girl, and instruct her. What would she
 
 CO1STQTJEST AND SACRIFICE. 29 
 
 say, if I should bring her back with me, a 
 daughter?" 
 
 Helen looked, and wondered at his silence, but 
 presently she ventured to interrupt it. 
 
 "Will you try it, sir?" 
 
 "Will you come with me?" he asked. 
 
 "Ah, that would break the charm; you must 
 bide alone. And I would not come, in any case ; 
 he who gets the ill will of the fairies, has sair 
 luck." 
 
 "The entrance of Thy words giveth light." 
 This text floated through Mr. Ashton's mind. 
 "Yes," he thought, "I will tell her the simple 
 story of the cross. I will try to lead her young 
 mind to believe in the all-sufficient power of that 
 God, who alone holds the universe, and measures 
 out the evil and the good." 
 
 He commenced with the garden of Eden, the 
 happiness and the fall witnessed amid its bloom 
 ing shades. He told the perfect life of the Re 
 deemer, the full pardon through his shed blood, 
 and the glorious hope held out for all. Helen 
 listened eagerly. To her it was but another fairy 
 tale, more wonderful, more touching and beautiful 
 than the legends of her own wild land, but still 
 
 3 *
 
 80 HELEN MA-CGKREGtOR; OR, 
 
 only a story after all. Then, with simple earnest 
 ness, he tried to make her feel, that that Saviour 
 died for her ; that she must be washed in that par 
 doning blood ere she could go to dwell in heaven. 
 Helen was deeply touched ; tears stood in her dark 
 eyes ; and Mr. Ashton lifted up his heart in a si 
 lent prayer, that the seed might fall into good 
 ground. How different would his feelings have 
 been, could he have looked into Helen's thoughts. 
 She was thinking how good and kind it was of 
 the Saviour to die for sinners, to save those 
 who had done wrong 5 but the idea that she was a 
 sinner, she would have rejected with haughty 
 scorn. 
 
 And as her eye glanced up to the sky, and 
 rested on the dark cloud hiding the summit of 
 the mountain, no thought came into her mind, 
 that over her soul hung the dark cloud of self- 
 righteousness and pride. 
 
 Mr. Ashton noticed the clouds gathering above 
 them, and rising hastily, said he must be going. 
 
 But just at that moment, Donald MacGregor 
 appeared, with his gun on his shoulder, and some 
 heath-cock which he had brought down for sup 
 per. Much as he disliked his guest, he knew too
 
 CONQUEST A.NT) SACRIFICE. 31 
 
 well the danger of sending any one out, when a 
 storm was brewing in the mountains. He there 
 fore begged the clergyman to return with them to 
 the hut. 
 
 Mr. Ashton had no inclination to be caught in 
 the rain, and the thunder was already beginning 
 to mutter ; so they all returned with rapid foot 
 steps to the cottage, and had just reached it, when 
 the storm burst. 
 
 What is like a storm in the mountains? So 
 sudden, so grand, so terrible. It swept around 
 the little hut, in its fierceness, as though it would 
 carry the rude structure away. 
 
 Another person had been added to the group 
 who were listening around the peat fire to the 
 storm Helen's brother Malcom, a youth of 
 about nineteen. He was a shepherd, and kept 
 the sheep of a wealthy farmer some miles distant. 
 He went early in the morning, and remained all 
 day ; and the longer he staid away, the better it 
 pleased Helen, for he well deserved the nick-name 
 she gave him, " Surly Malcom." He took special 
 delight in ordering Helen around, and in obliging 
 her to wait on him, and then never troubled him 
 self to thank her, while her father sat by unheeding
 
 32 HELEN MA-CGHREGOR; OR, 
 
 and unreproving. Mr. Ashton was not a little 
 astonished at the readiness and good humour with 
 which she obeyed. But now and then her cheek 
 would flush, and an angry light dart from her 
 eye ; and he thought, with sorrow, that a life led 
 under such trying circumstances, with no religious 
 training to counterbalance the evil, would soon 
 spoil all Helen's good qualities. Before the eve 
 ning was over, he felt strongly interested in the 
 young girl. He felt that, with proper Christian 
 training, she would make a noble woman, and he 
 took a sudden resolve, one of those impulses which 
 honor the warm hearts from which they spring. 
 
 Helen had left the room for a few minutes, and 
 he turned to MacGregor and said, 
 
 " Does Helen attend school ?" 
 
 " She does not," was the short and haughty an 
 swer. 
 
 Mr. Ashton then went on to speak of education, 
 of its importance to the possessor, of its powerful 
 influence on the world. Clement Ashton was an 
 eloquent speaker. Donald MacGregor was an 
 educated man. He listened at first in silence, but 
 soon yielded himself to the charm of refined con 
 versation, to which he had so long been a stranger.
 
 CONQUEST A.ND S^LCRIIflCE. 33 
 
 His prejudices were forgotten for the evening, as 
 the hours passed swiftly by ; and when, before re 
 tiring, Mr. Ashton asked permission to have wor 
 ship, he gave a ready consent. Upon seeing the 
 Bible brought up, Malcom, who had sat in sullen 
 silence most of the evening, rose and left the 
 room. 
 
 Mr. Ashton read the twelfth chapter of He 
 brews, which teaches so plainly how we should re 
 ceive the chastening rod. Then followed an earn 
 est prayer for the spiritual welfare of that family. 
 
 When they rose from their knees, all felt sol 
 emn. Never had MacGregor felt so deeply before 
 how he was wasting his precious hours ; how days 
 were following days, and no good deeds, no noble 
 actions, were being registered by the recording 
 angel in the book of life. Remorse stirred to its 
 very depths the heart of the proud man, as he 
 looked on his only daughter. How was he train 
 ing her for life's duties, and for the solemn hour 
 of death ? Mr. Ashton could not have spoken at 
 a more favorable time. 
 
 As Helen, with a graceful good night, left the 
 room, he said, 
 
 " You have a lovely daughter, sir."
 
 34 HELEN M^COREGOIt; OR, 
 
 "Yes," he answered slowly, "she grows like 
 our heath-flowers, as beautiful, and as wild." 
 
 " I am a stranger to you," said the clergyman, 
 " excuse me, if I seem presumptuous. We were 
 just speaking of education, and you acknowledged 
 its value; then why not educate Helen?" 
 
 " I was not aware, sir, that you had any special 
 interest in my family," answered Donald, haugh 
 tily. 
 
 " Pardon me," said Mr. Ashton, hastily, " if I 
 have taken a strong interest in your daughter. I 
 have no children, and my heart has been strangely 
 touched for this girl, brought up in this bleak 
 home. Lend her to me a while," 
 
 MacGregor's brow darkened, and an angry reply 
 rose to his lips, but Mr. Ashton hastened to add : 
 
 "Do not be offended. I know it is a great favor 
 to ask, and it takes you by surprise. My wife 
 would cherish her fondly, as her own daughter. 
 Oh, sir, how can you answer at the last day, for 
 denying to your child the knowledge of a saving 
 faith in Christ Jesus ? Let her have a few years 
 of Christian culture, and she shall return to you, 
 God willing, to be the light and comfort of your 
 home.
 
 CONQUEST .A-ND SACRIFICE. 35 
 
 " I am a stranger to you ; come to Edinburgh, 
 if you wish for recommendations," 
 
 Donald interrupted him hastily, " I wish none. 
 'One gentleman is quick to recognize another.' 
 When I trust at all, I trust fully. You shall 
 know to-morrow." 
 
 What thoughts were with the neglectful father 
 through the silent watches of that night ? Did the 
 ghosts of former years stand round him, showing 
 him the long array of misspent hours, and slighted 
 duties ? 
 
 Or did God's Holy Spirit strive yet once more, 
 to waken him to a higher life ? 
 
 He had ever been more proud of his daughter, 
 than fond of her. He acknowledged to himself 
 in spite of his skepticism, that Mr. Ashton was a 
 true Christian ; and looking forward to the years 
 yet before him, he could see no other way of dis 
 posing of Helen. As to letting her go out to 
 service, as many another Scotch lassie did, it was 
 out of the question. To that his pride would 
 never consent. 
 
 And it was perhaps, after all, this very pride 
 that won his consent. Helen would be educated, 
 and brought up like a lady, in a manner fitting
 
 36 HELEN MA-CGKREQ-OR. 
 
 her birth; and if she did imbibe the religious 
 faith of her tutor, it would do her no harm. 
 
 Thus a parent's pride was sending Helen to a 
 distant home ; and no fond parent's prayer went 
 forth in her behalf, to plead before the great white 
 throne, that the eternal Eye of mercy might look 
 on all her childish errors, and the eternal Arm 
 protect her in every danger and temptation, for 
 the sake of the crucified One. 
 
 The next morning Helen MacGregor was loaned 
 to a stranger, with the promise that she should re 
 turn in five years. 
 
 Five years ! Life, death, eternal bliss, or eternal 
 woe, may be wrapped in that brief space. 
 
 Five years! the Omniscient Eye alone can read 
 their mystic record.
 
 III. 
 
 tUE VOYAGE. 
 
 " To thee the love of woman hath gone down : 
 Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, 
 O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown ; 
 
 Yet must thou hear a voice Restore the dead ! 
 Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee ! 
 
 Restore the dead, thou sea !" 
 
 BUT how did Helen like this change in her 
 destiny? To a girl lively, enthusiastic, 
 and fond of variety as she was, the very sound of 
 travelling had a rare charm. She who had stood 
 on the mountains, and gazed wistfully out towards 
 the broad world, longing to know what it was 
 like, looked towards that distant home through 
 rose-colored spectacles. She had never suifered. 
 So with the trusting faith of the young, the cares 
 and trials of every-day life to her were tinged with 
 a roseate hue. And then, to go to America, that 
 land above all others dear to the heart of the op 
 pressed ! For Mr. Ashton was an American, the 
 
 4 37
 
 38 HELEN MA-CGKREGrOR,; OR, 
 
 rector of a flourishing congregation in one of our 
 largest cities. His congregation, like many another 
 liberal one, had sent him on this pleasure trip. 
 His wife accompanied him as far as Edinburgh, 
 but declined taking the wild excursion through the 
 Highlands, preferring to remain with some friends 
 until he returned. 
 
 Had Helen been used to affection and tender 
 care at home, she would doubtless have shrunk 
 from parting with those around her. 
 
 Donald had never shown that he really cared 
 for her ; and his child had grown up to regard 
 him with almost an equal degree of indifference. 
 Her brother's disposition had likewise repelled 
 her. She loved Margaret well; but had domi 
 neered over the old woman to too great an extent, 
 to have for her that respect and esteem which are 
 the only true foundation of love. 
 
 Thus it happened that, when after a two days' 
 stay at the cottage Mr. Ashton was ready to leave, 
 Helen bade farewell to every glen and strath and 
 heathery mountain, every rivulet and fairy nook, 
 with a sadness and a tenderness equalling, if not 
 surpassing, that which she bestowed on the in 
 mates of her home.
 
 CONQUEST A]srr> SACRIFICE. 39 
 
 Old Margie wept bitterly, and sorrowed with a 
 wild lamentation over her bairn. 
 
 " Why, I'm coming back again," said Helen, 
 with a smile, though the tears dimmed her eyes. 
 
 " Aye, aye, ye'll come back a fine leddy, and not 
 know old Margie," said the woman half proudly. 
 
 MacGregor's parting with his daughter was less 
 demonstrative, but he kissed her with a warmth 
 of feeling which surprised Helen ; and turning to 
 Mr. Ashton, he said solemnly, raising his hand to 
 wards Heaven, 
 
 " If you forsake her, may your ashes be scat 
 tered on the water," which is the deepest impreca 
 tion of the Gael. 
 
 And so the parting was over, and Margie sighed 
 as she went about her work, missing the light foot 
 step and merry voice of her darling. But Helen, 
 all unconscious that she had carried away with 
 her the light of that cottage home, looked eagerly 
 out at every object as they travelled on. 
 
 It was late at night when they reached Edin 
 burgh, and Mr. Ashtou found his wife anxiously 
 awaiting his arrival. He had been detained, wait 
 ing for Helen, two days beyond his time, and 
 they would be obliged to start the next morning.
 
 40 HELEN MA.CGHtEGKXR,; OR, 
 
 Mrs. Ashton received Helen with a warmth and 
 fondness for which the girl was entirely unpre 
 pared. 
 
 She held her off, and looked at her with a 
 pleased smile, and kissed her many times, fondly 
 calling her, " my daughter." 
 
 Miriam Ashton was a lovely woman, from 
 whom God had deemed it wise to withhold the 
 fond name of mother. But she was a Christian, 
 and had learned to say the Divine prayer of the 
 garden, " Thy will be done." And now her heart 
 overflowed with joy and gratitude, that the Master 
 had sent this precious lamb to her, that she might 
 guide it to the heavenly fold. 
 
 But Helen had little time that evening to get 
 acquainted with her new friend, for Mrs. Ashton 
 sent her off to bed, to prepare, by a good sleep, for 
 the morrow's journey. 
 
 They started early the next morning, and Helen 
 was almost breathless, with a kind of awe, as she 
 saw a large ship for the first time. It looked so 
 huge and powerful, and the men at work on it 
 seemed so small. 
 
 She could have staid and watched there for 
 hours. The hurrying and bustling, raising bag-
 
 COJVQTJEST A.3STD SACRIFICE. 41 
 
 gage and goods, the strange shouts of the sailors, 
 the anxious passengers, and the crowds of idle 
 lookers on, never wearied her. But she must take 
 her turn, and become one of the actors in the scene. 
 And a$ she stood on deck, a strange sense of sor 
 row and loneliness came over her, as she looked 
 towards the Highlands, and thought of her moun 
 tain home. 
 
 We will not describe the voyage. For the first 
 week, Mr. and Mrs. Ashton were very sea-sick ; 
 and Helen spent long hours quietly sitting in their 
 state-room, and doing all in her power to relieve 
 them. 
 
 Or else she sat on deck, and watched with 
 dreamy eyes the white waves dashing up to the 
 ship ; or the sailors busy at their work. She was 
 sitting thus, one evening towards sunset, when 
 Mr. Ashton left his state-room for the first time. 
 He came and sat down by her. 
 
 " My dear child," he said, " you have had a 
 lonely time of it; but now that I am better, I 
 shall try and cheer you up. What were you 
 thinking about, wearing such a grave face ?" 
 
 Helen turned to him with a bright smile, "I 
 believe I was a little home-sick ; I was thinking 
 
 4*
 
 42 HELEN" 
 
 OR, 
 
 of one of Dugald's songs, and a shadow stole over 
 my spirit." 
 
 " Can you sing it ?" asked Mr. Ashton kindly. 
 Helen commenced in her sweet, clear voice, 
 " The Highland song of emigration." 
 
 " ' We return we return we return no more !' 
 So comes the song to the mountain shore, 
 From those that are leaving their Highland home, 
 For a world far over the blue sea's foam : 
 ' We return no more !' and through cave and dell, 
 Mournfully wanders that wild farewell. 
 
 it < We re turn we return we return no more !' 
 So breathe sad voices our spirits o're, 
 Murmuring up from the depth of the heart, 
 When lovely things with their light depart, 
 And the inborn sound hath a prophet's tone, 
 And we feel that a joy is forever gone." 
 
 "Ah, Helen," said Mr. Ashton, laying his hand 
 on the young girl's head, " you feel lonely now, yet 
 I trust you will soon learn, that it matters little 
 on what shore we dwell, whether the sky o'er- 
 shadows sunny vales and balmy breezes, or the 
 ruder climes of the North. True happiness lives 
 within the heart at peace with God. Our blessed 
 Saviour said, when he was leaving his disciples, 
 ' My p<~ % I leave with you,' and since then every
 
 CONQUEST A.3STD SACRIFICE. 43 
 
 Christian feels some of that divine peace dwelling 
 in his heart, helping him to overcome the world, 
 and to bear its trials bravely. Do you not wish 
 to be a Christian ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Helen, a little doubtfully, for 
 she scarcely comprehended what the term meant. 
 
 "Then pray to God to make you one, my 
 daughter. The desire to be a Christian is the first 
 step towards being one. If you saw a beautiful 
 gem, and had money to buy it, you would not go 
 to procure it unless you first wished for it. So it 
 is with the pearl of great price, eternal life. When 
 once you really wish for it, you will set out to 
 seek it with earnest prayer." 
 
 " I wish," said Helen, looking wistfully down 
 into the blue waves, " I wish we did not have to 
 be good ; it is so much easier to do just as we feel 
 like doing." 
 
 " Yes, it is certainly easier, but I never yet saw 
 any one, that could do just as he pleased, who 
 was very happy. Believe me, Helen, we each of 
 us have a life-work to do, and when we neglect 
 that work, the sting of unfulfilled duty mars our 
 pleasure, and instead of bringing peace and hap 
 piness renders life a burden."
 
 44 HELEN MACGKREOOR; OR, 
 
 "Have I a life-work, do you think?" asked 
 Helen, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Certainly, my child, every one has his work 
 in the great harvest field of the world ; and at the 
 last great day, each one must render up his ac 
 count to the Judge of all the earth. What my 
 Helen's work will be, time alone can show ; God 
 give her grace to do it well." 
 
 Helen sighed at the fearful responsibility that 
 seemed thus thrown upon her. Youth dreads the 
 thought of care and duty, and Helen almost wished 
 she had never known that life was something more 
 than idle dreaming through sunny days. But 
 wish as she would, those solemn words haunted 
 her, and she longed to know what her life-work 
 would be. 
 
 My dear young readers, pause here, and ask what 
 yours is. Have you already found it ? or are you 
 spending your time hi the gaieties around you, 
 without a thought of duty unfulfilled ? Are there 
 no little companions for you to lead in the heavenly 
 road? Is there no mother's care to lighten? no 
 father's home to cheer? no little brothers and 
 sisters, whom you can comfort and please? If 
 there are none of these, yet there are plenty of
 
 CONQUEST A.Tirr> SACRIFICE. 45 
 
 wandering little ones, whom you might win into 
 the Sunday-school. Think of it, reader; you 
 are young, perhaps, but some die young, and how 
 mil you answer the blessed Master for having 
 neglected his work, for having slighted duty ? 
 
 Helen thought long on this, not only then, but 
 many times. This conversation left an enduring 
 impression on her mind, as it was the last one she 
 ever held with her kind friend. That night 
 typhus fever broke out on board the ship, and 
 early and late Mr. Ashton stood at death beds, 
 giving the consolations of religion to the dying. 
 Then the time came when he could no longer answer 
 to the passionate appeal for help. For he too was 
 stricken. The shock was too great for Miriam's 
 frail health ; and with the calmness of despair, 
 Helen bathed the brow of one, and raised the cool 
 ing draught to the lips of the other. 
 
 Oh, death, thou art indeed pitiless ! The bright 
 moon of a summer night looked down on a burial 
 at sea. Two bodies, sewn up in coarse cloth, lay 
 on the deck. A few sailors and passengers were 
 grouped near them; while the captain read the 
 solemn burial service for the dead at sea. Then 
 the sailors gently raised the bodies. But at that
 
 46 HELEN MACGHREGKm ; OR,, 
 
 moment a young girl darted from the group, and 
 threw herself upon the dead, passionately weeping. 
 All in vain, Helen ! The deep splash is heard, a 
 sudden stillness succeeds, and Clement Ashton and 
 the lovely Miriam sleep in a watery grave. But 
 why lament them? All that are in the grave 
 shall hear his voice, and come forth, whether they 
 rest in the " cold embrace of ocean," or sleep in 
 the green valleys of earth. They were Christians, 
 and for them to die was gain. Mysterious are the 
 ways of Providence. Some writer beautifully 
 says, " God's dealings seem to man like the scat 
 tered stones of the mosaic, valueless ! It requires 
 a master's hand to form them into a perfect pic 
 ture." 
 
 Very dark and dreary seemed the world then 
 to Helen, far away from her own home, a stranger, 
 and alone. Yet she was not alone ; God's watch 
 ful care and tenderness were over her. Ah, in 
 that hour, how much happier would have been 
 Helen's lot, could she have gone to her Saviour 
 with child-like trust, and prayed him to take care 
 of her. But this Helen had never learned to do. 
 
 She forgot her Saviour, and murmured bitterly ; 
 but He had not forgotten her. Among the pas-
 
 CONQUEST AISTD SACRIFICE. 4T 
 
 sengers was a gentleman for whom Helen had 
 often sung, during Mr. and Mrs. Ashton's illness, 
 when she came up on deck to breathe a little fresh 
 air. To him she imparted her simple story. He, 
 as well as all on board, felt very sorry for her, 
 and wondered much what would become of her. 
 Mr. Murphy was a travelling agent, with no set 
 tled home. He felt, therefore, that he could not 
 take care of her if he had wished, which he did 
 not ; but he had a married sister living in a small 
 country village, to whom he determined to send 
 Helen, if she would consent, and no better home 
 was oifered her. No one else did offer to befriend 
 the homeless girl; and entirely ignorant of the 
 world, without money or friends, Helen gratefully 
 accepted Mr. Murphy's proposition. " She will do 
 to take care of the children," thought he. 
 
 From that day Helen's brow cleared, and she 
 felt contented once more. Youth shuns sorrow, 
 and Helen tried to forget the true friends, sleeping 
 in their watery grave. She and Mr. Murphy 
 got along well together ; she was never tired of 
 hearing accounts of her new home, or stories of 
 foreign travel, and thus many hours were whiled 
 away, but with little profit to Helen, as Mr. Mur-
 
 48 HELEN 
 
 phy was not a religious man, and Helen soon for 
 got the pure teachings she had learned from Mr. 
 Ashton's lips. 
 
 Much idle time she spent in wondering what 
 her new home would be like. 
 
 " Let me see," she would say to herself many 
 times, " there are five children, three boys and two 
 girls.. John, Mary, Augusta, Eddie, and Charlie. 
 Charlie, the dear little baby, how I shall love 
 him ! Indeed I'll love them all ; what nice times 
 we'll have at play, and at school ! I wonder if 
 there are any mountains or hills to climb, or 
 heather-bells to gather ?" 
 
 Thus Helen would plan and dream, and fill the 
 future full of impossible pleasure, until she soon 
 forgot her lost friends in the grand visions of her 
 proud fancy. For pride was one of Helen's 
 greatest faults, and she longed some day to return 
 to her father's house, a rich lady. Of the treasure 
 laid up in heaven, she never thought.
 
 IV. 
 
 THE ASK I r AX,. 
 
 " Oh learn that it is only by the lowly 
 
 The paths of peace are trod; 
 
 If thou wouldst keep thy garments white and holy, 
 Walk humbly with thy God." 
 
 THE whistle blew loud and long, and the great 
 engine puffed slower, and slower, as the cars 
 stopped at the station, and the conductor told 
 Helen she was to get out. Poor Helen felt ter 
 ribly frightened and lonely, as the cars whistled 
 off again, and she was left standing on the plat 
 form beside her little box of clothes. She looked 
 all around for the waiting carriage, which Mr. 
 Murphy said would be there to meet her. For 
 he had written an account of Helen to his sister, 
 and told her to send to the depot for the child, as 
 he could not accompany her. All this Helen 
 knew, and a sickening dread came over her, at the 
 thought that perhaps they had not got the letter. 
 However, Helen was naturally hopeful, and as she 
 
 5 D 49
 
 50 HELE3NT M A.CGKR,EGK>R. ; OR, 
 
 knew the name of the village was Brookfield, and 
 that it was two miles from the station, she felt cer 
 tain she could get there somehow. She looked 
 round. JSTo one was in sight but a man smoking 
 and reading a newspaper in the little room, and a 
 boy standing near the open door. 
 
 Helen stepped up to the boy and asked if he 
 knew whether there was any one there from Brook- 
 field. 
 
 "Brookfield!" exclaimed the boy, looking sur 
 prised; "why if you wanted to go to Brookfield, 
 why didn't you get out at the station ten miles 
 above?" 
 
 "Oh, dear!" said Helen, almost ready to cry, 
 "is it ten miles? How shall I get there? can you 
 tell me?" 
 
 "Have to walk," answered the boy. 
 
 Helen stood irresolute for some time. "If it 
 were not for my box," she thought, "I might 
 walk." For Helen had been brought up in the 
 mountains, and miles seemed nothing much to her. 
 
 "Well, why don't you start off?" asked the boy. 
 
 " I don't know what to do with my box. Do 
 you think I could leave it here until they send for 
 it? I can easily walk the distance."
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SA-CRIITTCE. 51 
 
 The boy looked at her in astonishment, then 
 putting his hands in his pockets, he gave two or 
 three whistles. "You walk it!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "To be sure I can," answered Helen bravely. 
 
 "Very well, we'll see; I'll carry your box. Go 
 ahead." 
 
 "You go first, I don't know the way." 
 
 The boy took up the box, and walked around 
 the house, followed by Helen. Behind the house 
 stood a carriage and horse, and depositing the box 
 behind, he told Helen to jump in. 
 
 Helen looked at him with some surprise, and 
 asked, "Can we go in this carriage? Is it yours?" 
 
 The boy laughed so, he was unable to reply for 
 some time. At length he made her understand 
 that he had been sent to meet her. When Helen 
 found this out, she was very angry, and refused to 
 answer any of the numerous questions the boy put 
 to her. But notwithstanding this, he continued to 
 chuckle to himself every now and then, at the 
 good joke he had played. At length Helen could 
 endure it no longer. 
 
 "What is your name?" she asked. 
 
 "Pudding and tame," was the prompt reply. 
 
 "Now she's cross again," continued the boy,
 
 52 HELEN MAC'GKREOOR; OR, 
 
 looking mischievously into Helen's face. " You'd 
 better make friends with me, I tell you, for I'm 
 boss round our house." 
 
 This seemed so ridiculous to Helen, that she 
 burst into a merry laugh. This pleased the boy 
 so well, that he stopped teasing, and condescended 
 to talk sensibly. Helen soon found out that this 
 was John, the oldest son, but very unlike the John 
 she had thought about. 
 
 They were a long time getting over the two 
 miles ; for John first drove very fast to try and 
 frighten Helen ; then finding he could not succeed 
 in that, he drove very, very slow, for the rest of 
 the way, to try and tire her patience; and he 
 quite wondered to find that she did not mind it 
 at all. 
 
 In fact Helen was thinking a great deal too in 
 tently of the kind of people of which John was a 
 representative, to trouble herself whether they rode 
 fast or slow. 
 
 At length the carriage drove up before a hand 
 some brick house, in the main street of a small 
 village. A neat yard was in front filled with 
 flowers. As soon as the carriage drove in at the 
 gate, three children rushed all together out of the
 
 CONQUEST A.3STD SACRIFICE. 53 
 
 front door, nearly knocking each other down in 
 their rude haste. 
 
 " Hallo ! there !" shouted John, " here we are, 
 all safe and sound. Run in young scamps, and call 
 your mother." 
 
 " You go, Mary." 
 
 " No, I won't ; you go Eddie." 
 
 " Won't, won't," said Eddie, who was almost too 
 small to talk plain. 
 
 " I tell you what, if some of you don't go di 
 rectly, I'll get out of this carriage, with my whip. 
 Go Gussie, run." 
 
 " Yes, go Gussie," said Mary. 
 
 Augusta, without answering, ran in, and soon re 
 appeared with a tall, fine-looking lady. In the 
 mean time Helen had sat patiently in the carriage 
 and submitted to be stared at. When Mrs. Rel- 
 lim appeared, she said at once, 
 
 " Why don't you open the carriage, John, and 
 not keep the child sitting there all day ?" 
 
 " Well now, mother, what's the use in my get 
 ting down just to open the door, when I will have 
 to get right up again to drive to the stable ? You 
 open it." 
 
 " Oh, John, you are too bad ; what a selfish, un- 
 5 *
 
 54 HELEN IVIA.CGKREGrOR, ; Olt, 
 
 gallant boy you are. I am really ashamed of 
 you." 
 
 By this time Helen had succeeded in opening 
 the door herself, and now stepped out. The chil 
 dren formed a regular procession to escort her up 
 stairs; and John having utterly refused to get 
 down and carry up the box, one of the servants 
 was summoned from the kitchen, who with Helen's 
 assistance took it in. 
 
 Once in the house, Helen was charmed with 
 everything around her. Rich curtains shaded out 
 the glaring sunlight. Her foot fell on the softest 
 carpets. Her eye wandered with delight over 
 pictures, books, and marble vases. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she thought, " this is the very home 
 I've dreamed of; wealthy and beautiful. Here I 
 shall live a fine lady, as Margie has many a time 
 told me became a daughter of the MacGregor. 
 Better this than wandering over the mountains, 
 even though they be the loved Highlands of Scot 
 land." 
 
 Thus Helen's thoughts ran on, as the children 
 were showing her over the house. In imagina 
 tion the girl saw herself reclining on the velvet 
 sofas, dressed in silk, while her hands sparkled
 
 CONQUKST -A.ND SA.CK.IFICE. 55 
 
 with jewels. Yes, as I have said before, pride was 
 Helen's greatest fault. She was a very pretty 
 girl, and Margie's flattering, Dugald's petting, and 
 the pride and exclusiveness of her father, had all 
 gone to foster her besetting sin. And yet, with 
 this sad fault, Helen was so warm-hearted and 
 generous, that it was often hard to chide her. 
 She now rejoiced in this home of ease and elegance, 
 never asking herself if the vital spirit of Christi 
 anity made it indeed a true home. She did dis 
 cover, after she had been there two or three days, 
 that every one was thoroughly selfish, each seek 
 ing to cast all duty and care on another. She 
 found also, that no one there ever prayed or went 
 to church, that the children were disobedient and 
 saucy. But all this mattered little to the ease- 
 loving Helen. She lived in a splendid home, she, 
 as well as all the rest, did just as she pleased, and 
 she was contented. Thus Helen would have been 
 contented to spend her life. But thanks be to 
 God, that he watches over us with a father's love. 
 " And as an eagle stirreth up her nest," that her 
 young brood may learn the use of their wings, so 
 the Almighty Father rouses us from our slothful 
 dreams, to teach us what life really is.
 
 56 HELEN" MA-CGKREGJOR ; OR,, 
 
 Two weeks had glided by, and Helen laughed 
 and sang with the children, and bore John's teas 
 ing with a good nature that took away all his fun. 
 When one afternoon, Mrs. Rellim said, 
 
 " Helen, it is so pleasant, suppose you take the 
 children and go out for a walk ; and when you 
 come back, come up to my dressing-room, I have 
 something to say to you." 
 
 Helen's curiosity was a little aroused, but she 
 soon forgot it in the pleasures of the walk. She 
 loved all nature. True, Brookfield was not her 
 own wild home, but it had shady lanes and lovely 
 gardens, and you could wander on to quiet woods 
 and sunny glades where little birds sang, and the 
 brooklet murmured. 
 
 In one of these lovely spots they sat down to 
 rest. 
 
 " Oh, what beautiful leaves !" exclaimed Helen, 
 looking at the fern, which grew in thick bunches. 
 
 " Shall I bring you some ?" asked Gussie. 
 
 "Yes, and I'll make some wreaths for your 
 hate." 
 
 " The first wreath is for me," said Mary. 
 
 " No, it's for me, because I got the fern. Isn't 
 it, Helen ?" asked Gussie.
 
 CONQUEST A.NTD SACRIFICE. 57 
 
 "It's no such thing; I guess I'm the oldest, 
 and I will have it." 
 
 " You shan't !" said Eddie, joining in the quar 
 rel, and giving Mary a hit with a small switch 
 that he carried. 
 
 Mary immediately jumped up, and struck him 
 in the face. It took all Helen's strength, as well 
 as powers of persuasion, to separate the two angry 
 children ; when at length they settled down, she 
 wondered if all rich children were as ill-natured. 
 
 "I never did see such children," she said, 
 " why can't you behave ? To quarrel about such 
 a little thing." 
 
 If Helen had been older, she might have known 
 that nearly all quarrels are begun about some 
 trifling thing; so trifling that people would be 
 ashamed to tell the true cause. 
 
 "Gussie began it," answered Mary, sulkily, 
 " and it's no business of yours ; I am almost as old 
 as you are, and we don't have to mind you." 
 
 " Gussie didn't begin it, that's a story, Mary ; 
 now I shall not make you any wreath." 
 
 "I don't want any of your wreaths; I can 
 make a better one myself." 
 
 " You can't," answered Helen, shortly. Helen,
 
 58 HELEN MACGKREGOR,; OR, 
 
 as well as Mary, had been brought up to have her 
 own way, and forgetting her sage remark about 
 the smallness of the cause, a new quarrel com 
 menced. Not the first one they had had, for 
 Mary and Helen could seldom agree ; and contin 
 ually was Mrs. Rellim bothered by complaints 
 from Mary. But Helen was soon over her ill 
 temper, and although Mary always sulked a while, 
 Helen generally succeeded in getting all parties in 
 a good humor before long. On this afternoon the 
 beauty of the weather and all nature seemed about 
 to be lost on the quarrelsome children. But after 
 a while, Helen said, 
 
 " Well, never mind, what's the use in us miss 
 ing this lovely afternoon ? Let us all make up. 
 I'll braid you a wreath, too, Mary." 
 
 But Mary was not to be won over for a long 
 time. Helen tried various topics, but Mary re 
 fused to talk, until Helen asked, 
 
 " Don't you go to school, Mary ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, in winter time ; it is vacation now. 
 That is the school-house over on the hill, you see 
 from here ; oh, we have lots of fun though." 
 
 "Fun!" said Helen, looking astonished, "I 
 thought you went there to study."
 
 CONQUEST A.Nr> SACRIFICE. 59 
 
 " Well, greenie ! so we do, that is, we're sent 
 there to study, but we study precious little," an 
 swered Mary. 
 
 "I'm sure I shall study when I go," said 
 Helen. 
 
 " Are you going to school ?" said Mary, in sur 
 prise ; " well, you are a dunce, to go to school 
 when you don't have to. Ma won't make you 
 go." 
 
 " I think I'd be a dunce if I didn't go. Be 
 sides, I want to learn. Here's your wreath, Gus- 
 sie, don't it look lovely ?" 
 
 " I'm going to school, too, next fall, Helen, 
 I'm so glad you're going," said Gussie, " for I shall 
 feel so lonely among so many boys and girls. 
 Oh, there comes Nora Neville," continued the 
 child, jumping up, and running down the wood 
 land path to meet a young girl carrying a pitcher. 
 Helen looked up as they drew near, and saw Gus 
 sie with her arm around the waist of a girl several 
 years older than herself. She had on a very pretty 
 light chintz dress, and a straw hat ; and her hair 
 curled in little, crispy, thick curls all round the 
 edge of it. Yet, notwithstanding a pair of bright 
 blue eyes and rosy cheeks, Helen thought her very
 
 60 HELEN MA-COREQOR; OR,, 
 
 ugly, and she was dressed as though she was not 
 rich ; therefore, having neither beauty nor riches, 
 she was in Helen's estimation no one of any ac 
 count. 
 
 It is true Nora's nose was very pug, and her 
 mouth not by any means small ; yet those who 
 knew Nora Neville well, generally found her nose 
 and mouth to be entirely hidden by her pleasant 
 smile, and white teeth. But Helen had yet to 
 learn that there are more beautiful things in the 
 world than a pretty face. 
 
 " Why, Nora Neville, you've been after milk," 
 said Mary, contemptuously. 
 
 "Yes," answered the girl, looking down into the 
 pitcher, "don't it look nice? Now if you all 
 come round, you shall have some, for mother is 
 going to make milk toast. Oh, I've had such a 
 splendid walk down to Mr. Nelson's farm, and 
 Mr. Nelson just happened to be there, and he took 
 up the pan and filled the pitcher, although I told 
 him it held two quarts, and I only had money to 
 pay for one. He just called me a little witch, 
 and told -me to be off, and drink the extra milk 
 going home. So you see I will have plenty for 
 all hands."
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 61 
 
 "But what made you take such a big pitcher?" 
 asked Helen, laughing at its size. 
 
 Nora, too, joined in the laugh, as she looked 
 at it, for she had put it on the ground, "Well, 
 mother said if the pitcher were full, I would slop 
 it all over my clothes, I am so heedless, and would 
 lose half the milk, and now I will show mother 
 she was mistaken. I told her everybody would 
 laugh at my big pitcher. But my arm is dread 
 fully tired. Every little stone I saw, I felt sure 
 I'd stumble over," and Nora laughed merrily. 
 
 "My mother wouldn't let me go after milk: 
 that's servants' work," said Mary. 
 
 "Servants' work!" repeated Nora, "so it is, 
 when you have a servant ; but we don't keep one, 
 you know. And mother says dressing fine and 
 doing nothing never make a lady; it is only the 
 behaviour. But I must go now." 
 
 "No, don't go yet, Nora," said Gussie, kissing 
 her, " I hardly ever get to see you now." 
 
 "I'd like to stay, Gussie, it is so lovely here, 
 but mother told me not to loiter." 
 
 "What a little calf you are, Augusta," said 
 Mary, angrily. 
 
 " I don't care," was the answer.
 
 62 HELEN MA-CGKREGKXR,; OR, 
 
 Nora took up her heavy pitcher, and they all 
 set off together, not one offering to help her but 
 Gussie, and she was too weak to carry it. Helen's 
 better feelings prompted her to take the pitcher 
 from the tired arms of Nora. But the Scotch 
 girl, who feared nothing visible, feared the invis 
 ible, keenly felt shaft of ridicule. If Mary Rel- 
 lim was too proud to carry milk, she should be 
 too. So Nora walked on to the turning, at which 
 she left them, merrily talking and laughing with 
 Gussie; for Mary held herself aloof, and Helen 
 had as much as she could do to keep Eddie in 
 order, as he would persist in walking in the mud, 
 and was a pitiable object when they reached 
 home. 
 
 The walk, after they left Nora, was not very 
 agreeable, for ill temper spoils the most pleasant 
 thing, and Mary and Augusta were angry at each 
 other about Nora ; and Eddie was in a bad humor, 
 because Helen would take him out of the mud. 
 As for Helen, she felt that sh.e had done an un 
 generous and mean thing, in not offering to help 
 Nora, and the words of the girl haunted her, "it 
 is not how we dress, but how we behave;" and 
 Helen felt convinced that she had not behaved at all
 
 CONQUEST A.THTD SACRIFICE. 63 
 
 lady-like. But with the readiness with which she 
 usually dismissed disagreeable subjects, she said it 
 was too late now to worry. So without taking off 
 her things, she ran up into Mrs. Rellim's dressing- 
 room.
 
 V. 
 
 DAJRK KOTTRS. 
 
 "Thank God, that in life's little day 
 
 Between our dawn and setting, 
 We have kind deeds to give away, 
 Sad hearts for which our own may pray, 
 And strength, when we are wronged to say, 
 
 Forgiving and forgetting." 
 
 IT is a sorrowful characteristic of the human 
 heart, that we long so earnestly to read the fu 
 ture. That longing is the buoy that betrays the 
 hidden discontent of the present. But oh! wise 
 and merciful is the "All Father" to hide every 
 coming event, lest the shadow should eclipse the 
 sunshine. 
 
 The woods had caught the echo of Helen's girl 
 ish laugh, as the sunlight glinted red on the tree- 
 tops ; she little dreamed then that the same woods 
 would catch her tears, ere another hour. 
 
 As the young girl entered the dressing-room, 
 
 64
 
 COTTQTJEST AJSTD SACRIFICE:. 65 
 
 Mrs. Eellim looked up, and kindly asked if she 
 had had a pleasant walk. 
 
 "Oh, very pleasant, ma'am," answered Helen. 
 
 "Perhaps you know, Helen," said Mrs. Rellim, 
 "that when my brother sent you here, he merely 
 sent a letter first, announcing your coming, and 
 did not wait at all to ascertain my views on the 
 subject. I wrote to him at once, telling him to 
 come for you, as I could not keep you. He was 
 absent from the city, and did not get my letter in 
 time. Last night I received his answer. He is 
 just about starting off again, and says it will be 
 impossible for him to take care of you; that you 
 must look out for another home." 
 
 All this Mrs. Rellim said in a calm, uncon 
 cerned tone, as though she was merely telling 
 Helen to do the easiest thing in the world j while 
 Helen listened with a flushed cheek, and averted 
 look. 
 
 "Where can I go, ma'am!" she asked bit 
 terly. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know, child," Mrs. Rellim 
 answered indolently. 
 
 "Then how am I to know?" passionately asked 
 
 Helen. "Your brother deserves my warmest 
 6 * E
 
 66 HELEN M A.C&REGOE, ; OR, 
 
 thanks, for taking a homeless girl, cheating her 
 with fair promises, and then leaving her." 
 
 "There, there, child, there's no hurry about it. 
 My brother meant kindly. Stay here a while, and 
 inquire, and look round, and don't fret." 
 
 "Don't fret? Madam!" impatiently exclaimed 
 the girl, while her eyes flashed with anger, "it is 
 easy to say, don't worry, to the homeless. And 
 this is the hospitality of America? Never a stran 
 ger sought a Highlander's cottage, but he was 
 welcome to share the last meal. Aye, and welcome 
 to stay till he was weary. The tongue of the 
 Highlander would wither, ere he'd tell the stran 
 ger to go further." 
 
 "Helen! Helen!" said Mrs. Rellim, as Helen 
 walked angrily up and down. "I do not wish 
 you to go now. Stay as long as you wish. I 
 only " 
 
 "Stay now? never! I will not stay where I am 
 not wanted." 
 
 "Listen to me, Helen, " 
 
 But Helen had vanished. Mrs. Eellim was 
 astonished. So merry and obliging had Helen al 
 ways been, that she never dreamed of the sleeping 
 volcano of temper that lay beneath that sunny sur-
 
 CONQUEST -A.ND S^CRIFICJi:. 67 
 
 face. But few things ever troubled Mrs. Rellim. 
 She sank back in her luxurious chair, saying, with 
 a smile, 
 
 "What a little spit-fire the girl is," and resum 
 ing her book, thought no more about it. 
 
 To do Mrs. Rellim justice, she did not at all in 
 tend to turn the young girl out of her house. But 
 she had no use for her, and did not feel obliged to 
 keep her, merely to suit her brother's whim. All 
 this she would have explained to Helen, had she 
 had time. But Helen's proud, quick temper took 
 alarm at once, and she refused to listen. 
 
 When Helen went down stairs, not caring which 
 direction she took, so that she might get away 
 somewhere, she rushed out of the front door, and 
 almost mechanically took the path to the little 
 woods. She reached the quiet spot she had left 
 only a short time before, but twilight now rendered 
 it gloomy. The sunlight, too, had left Helen's 
 face, and the dark night of anger clouded it. She 
 threw herself passionately on the ground, as she 
 had thrown herself, many a time, in childish anger, 
 on the wild heather, there to stay in wilful soli 
 tude, till Margaret, worried and sorry, came and 
 coaxed her home, willingly yielding the disputed
 
 68 HELEN" M^CQ-HEGJ-OR, ; OR, 
 
 point. But no Margaret came now to soothe the 
 spoiled girl; and Helen lay there thinking bitter 
 thoughts of all things. 
 
 "Why had her father let her leave her own dear 
 home, to be insulted, and turned out of doors? 
 He might have known she would be miserable. 
 And Mrs. Rellim," here her anger burst forth 
 anew, for Helen never stopped to reason that Mrs. 
 Rellim was under no obligation to fulfil the 
 whims of her brother, especially as she had never 
 even been consulted about it, or given a choice. 
 But Helen was young and generous; and had been 
 brought up in the lavish hospitality of a Highland 
 home, even though a poor one. And she had in 
 herited from her father, and been taught by Du- 
 gald, the sacred rights of the stranger. Besides 
 all this, Helen was angry, and angry people are 
 always unjust. Thus she chose to feel herself in 
 sulted. 
 
 "Why didn't she tell me sooner?" she con 
 tinued; "to let me go on thinking I had found a 
 home, and then to tell me I was homeless, without 
 a moment's preparation. She is cruel ; I hate her. 
 Mr. Ashton said, when he was dying, that God 
 would watch over me, that he had prayed for me.
 
 CONQUEST A.NT) SACRIFICE. 69 
 
 He did indeed!" and Helen smiled bitterly. "My 
 father said there was nothing in religion, and I 
 believe it: if there is, why does God take me from 
 a good home, to throw me alone on the world?" 
 
 Thus Helen's wicked thoughts ran on, till over 
 come by her desolate lot, she laid her head on a 
 mossy stone and wept. 
 
 Poor human faith! How weak it is. How 
 hard for it to recognize God's guiding hand in 
 sorrow, as well as in joy. 
 
 Helen seldom cried. Light-hearted and gay, 
 she had never, until now, known any real sorrow. 
 But now she w r ept aloud. The sound of her sob 
 bing went out into the still woods, and arrested 
 the footsteps of a young girl, who was running 
 along. She stopped and listened, then quickly 
 drew near. It was Nora Neville. The milk 
 toast had been partaken of with great relish ; and 
 then Nora had made a very nice extra quantity, 
 of the remainder of the milk, and taken it to a 
 little hut, that stood out of the village, for the 
 supper of poor Mrs. Dales, their washwoman, 
 and her blind boy. Now, Nora was hurrying home, 
 as it was almost dark, when Helen's crying arrested 
 her. She was obliged to stoop down, to see who
 
 70 HELEN JVLA-CGREOOR; OR,, 
 
 it was. When she recognized Helen, she was 
 very much surprised. She sat down beside her, 
 and asked hi the gentlest tone, if she could do any 
 thing for her. 
 
 " Nothing," was the cold reply. 
 
 Nora arose to go ; but hers was not the heart to 
 leave any one in trouble. She sat down again, 
 and putting her head close beside Helen's, she said, 
 
 " Do tell me what is the matter, dear Helen ; 
 perhaps I can help you." 
 
 There was no resisting such tender tones. 
 Helen's tears ceased, as she related in an angry 
 manner her wrongs. Now the story of Helen's 
 coming to BrookfielS, had been known in the 
 village through the children only; and they had 
 told that their uncle had brought Helen over for 
 their ma. This was the story Nora had heard 
 from Gussie ; and she now thought it very hard 
 of Mrs. Rellim's brother to abandon Helen thus. 
 She also thought that Mrs. Rellim might have 
 kept her. But Nora had early been taught that 
 God directs everything, and she was about saying 
 so, when Helen exclaimed, 
 
 " I hate her, so I do ; I'd rather starve, than 
 live there now."
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 71 
 
 Nora was so shocked, she almost rose up to go, 
 but checking herself, she said, 
 
 "Oh, Helen, please don't say that; it is so 
 wicked. The Bible says we should love every 
 body." 
 
 " I cannot help it. It was very heartless of her 
 to turn me away, with no place to go to." 
 
 " Perhaps she may have had some good reason," 
 suggested Nora, timidly. 
 
 "Some good reason!" repeated Helen, con 
 temptuously. " If you are going to take her part, 
 don't stay here, I'd rather not hear it." 
 
 Nora rose; she felt hurt and indignant at 
 Helen's tone ; but this feeling only lasted a mo 
 ment. She remembered that Helen was angry, 
 and did not think what she was saying ; so with 
 true Christian forgiveness, she sat down again, and 
 said gently, 
 
 " Dear Helen, you are in trouble ; mother says, 
 when anything worries us, or we don't know 
 what to do, we ought to ask God's help." 
 
 " He could help me without my asking him, if 
 he wished to," gloomily answered Helen. 
 
 " Yes, he could," said Nora, " but he wishes us 
 to ask him for what we want."
 
 72 HELEN" IH ACGKEtEQOR, ; OR,, 
 
 "I don't know how," was the discouraging 
 reply. 
 
 " I know," said Nora, in a low, timid tone, " I 
 know it seems hard at first, but it is easy, indeed 
 it is ; just kneel down and ask God to teach you 
 what to do, to find a home, and to take care of 
 you, for Christ Jesus, his dear Son's sake." 
 
 "Do you think he would hear me?" asked 
 Helen, with a newly awakened interest. 
 
 " Mother says, God always listens to our 
 prayers, if we pray in earnest, and ask the blessing 
 for Christ's sake." 
 
 " I cannot do it," said Helen, after thinking 
 a while. " You pray, Nora." 
 
 But this Nora could not do. Many young 
 girls, who are truly religious, find it difficult to 
 speak of their hopes ; and almost all find it impos 
 sible to pray aloud. They are frightened at the 
 sound of their own voices, and the simple petitions 
 they utter to God alone, they feel ashamed of be 
 fore their fellow-Christians. Nora looked trou 
 bled at Helen's request, and then she said slowly, 
 
 " I don't think I could pray aloud, Helen, dear. 
 But see, it is getting so dark, mother will be wor 
 ried. I will go home, and tell her all about it ;
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 73 
 
 she will pray for you, Helen. And if you could 
 come around to-morrow morning, perhaps mother 
 could tell you what to do. Could you ?" 
 
 "Yes, thank you, I will come," said Helen, 
 feeling somewhat comforted that some one was 
 taking an interest in her. 
 
 Kind words ! how cheering they are ; how lit 
 tle they cost. "Why are we so chary of them ? 
 
 Nora started, and then came back. "Won't you 
 go home now ? It is getting so dark." 
 
 " I have no home." 
 
 " Go back to Mrs. Rellim's then ; do, please ; 
 it is so late." 
 
 All Helen's better feelings awoke, at this tender 
 solicitude, and jumping up, she threw her arms 
 round Nora, and gave her a hearty kiss, saying, 
 
 " You are a sweet, good girl ; I love you. I 
 will go back, even to Mrs. Rellim's, to please you." 
 
 Nora returned the embrace, and the two 
 hastened along the road, and parted at the lane, 
 Nora saying, 
 
 " Don't forget to-morrow morning." 
 
 When Nora reached home, she found her 
 mother and sister at the end of the garden walk, 
 anxiously looking for her.
 
 74 HELEN MA.C&REQOR. ; OR, 
 
 " Oh, mother, dear, do forgive me for worrying 
 you. I did not intend to stay so late, but I met 
 Helen MacGregor, the Scotch girl, in the woods, 
 and oh, mother, don't you think Mrs. Rellim has 
 told her she must find another home, she can't 
 keep her." 
 
 All this Nora panted forth, almost out of breath, 
 for she had run nearly all the way home. 
 
 " There, dear child, wait a moment, until you 
 are a little rested, and then we will hear all about 
 it," said Mrs. Neville, kindly, "but don't stay 
 out so late another time, for such a cause, my 
 daughter." 
 
 " Oh, Nora, mother was so worried," said Bar 
 bara, " we were just going to look for you." 
 
 "Dear mother," said Nora, while the tears 
 started to her eyes, and she kissed her, " I am so 
 very sorry. But poor Helen was crying so much." 
 And Nora then proceeded to relate Helen's ac 
 count of her dismissal. But of her anger, she said 
 nothing. Mrs. Neville had taught her children 
 from early childhood, never to tell unkind things 
 of any one ; and to such things, the girls well 
 knew their mother never listened. 
 
 " What do you think of it, mother ?" asked Bar-
 
 CONQUEST ANX) SACRIFICE. 75 
 
 bara. " I think it very unkind of her brother to 
 bring Helen here, and then leave her." 
 
 "There are always two sides to a story, Bar 
 bara ; perhaps Helen has done something which 
 Mrs. Rellim thinks justifies her in dismissing 
 her." 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed, mother; she didn't do any 
 thing," said Nora, eagerly, " she said so." 
 
 Mrs. Neville did not reply ; she seemed lost in 
 thought, which the children did not interrupt for 
 some time, until Nora said, looking wistfully into 
 her mother's face, " If we only could, mother." 
 
 "Yes, if we only could, Nora; I have been 
 thinking of it, but it seems impossible." 
 
 " Thinking of what ?" asked Barbara. 
 
 " Of taking Helen here," said Nora. " Don't 
 you think we could manage it, mother?" 
 
 "Not without some self-sacrifice. You know 
 we have only an annuity to live on, and we must 
 not go beyond that, and we use it all at present. 
 We might take her, indeed, if she never wanted 
 clothes," added Mrs. Neville, smiling. 
 
 " Or, mother, if her clothes were like those of 
 the children of Israel in the wilderness, and lasted 
 forty years," said Barbara, laughing.
 
 76 HELEN MACGKREGKDR; OR, 
 
 "Oh, mother, I have it," said Nora, clapping 
 her hands, " you know you always buy us each 
 two winter dresses, and two summer ones ; now, 
 why can't we do with one apiece, and wear our 
 old ones longer?" 
 
 " Somehow you generally manage to wear your 
 old ones shorter, instead of longer," said her 
 mother, smiling. 
 
 "Well, after this, I'll try and wear mine 
 longer," said Barbara, " if you think that will do, 
 mother." 
 
 " That will do for dresses, certainly ; but young 
 girls wear shoes and stockings, and under-clothes, 
 and hats, &c." 
 
 " Well, divide those too," said Nora, " besides, 
 mother, you forget you will have the extra money 
 for one dress always to buy things with ; for in 
 stead of getting four dresses every time, you'll 
 only have to buy three." 
 
 " Well, it seems you are determined to have it 
 so. And yet, my dear girls, I do not want you 
 to decide now. What you are making up your 
 mind to, is not the work of a week, or of a month, 
 but the sacrifice of self for years. I want you to 
 count well the cost; there will be no retreating
 
 CONQUEST AJSTD SACRIFICE. 77 
 
 when Helen is once here. And you both know 
 enough not to enter into such a pledge, without 
 asking the guidance and help of the Giver of all 
 good intentions, and the Upholder of all good 
 purposes. Then, too, there will be a double 
 watchfulness to keep over your conduct. You 
 are Christ's children ; you have become members 
 of his visible church here on earth. In the inti 
 mate communion of daily life, you must show 
 your young companion that you are not your own ; 
 that you have been bought with a price, even 
 'the precious blood of Christ,' lest you should 
 place a stumbling-block in the way of one who 
 will judge of Christianity by the ways of those 
 around her. Pray earnestly for strength to do 
 this, my daughters, and trusting in Almighty power 
 to help, you will not fail." 
 
 Already Nora and Barbara almost felt ready to 
 give up, at the responsible light in which their 
 mother put it. But youth is hopeful, and as their 
 mother sent them off to bed, they followed her ad 
 vice, and prayed with sincere and simple faith, for 
 help to sacrifice all selfishness on the altar of pure 
 charity. 
 7 *
 
 VI. 
 
 A. NEW HOME. 
 
 "If we knew the clouds above us 
 
 Held by gentle blessings there ; 
 . Would we turn away all trembling 
 
 In our blind and weak despair ? 
 Would we shrink from little shadows 
 
 Lying on the dewy grass, 
 When 'tis only birds of Eden, 
 Just in mercy flying past ?" 
 
 " TV/TETHER dear, have you made up your 
 -L'J- mind?" was Nora's first question on the 
 following morning. 
 
 " Have you ?" asked her mother. 
 " Oh, yes, ma'am, we both have," said Barbara. 
 " I will tell you what I think when I get back, 
 as I am going round to Mrs. Bellini's after break 
 fast." 
 
 " Why mother, I told Helen to come here." 
 " Did you ? well then, if she comes, keep her 
 here until I get back." 
 
 78
 
 CONQUEST A.N3J SACRIITICE. 79 
 
 " Mother, shall we go in the study, and com 
 mence our lessons ?" 
 
 " No : I shall only be gone a little while, and 
 you will have enough to do to finish the dishes, 
 and the rest of the work." 
 
 Nora and Barbara could talk of nothing but 
 Helen, during their mother's absence, and they 
 laid out most delightful plans, in which everything 
 went just as they wished, and nothing disagreeable 
 ever entered; and they calculated largely on Hel 
 en's being a perfect character. 
 
 Mrs. Neville was a lady dearly loved in the 
 village in which she resided, a truly noble woman; 
 and few doors ever opened to her without a smile 
 of welcome. Mrs. Rellim had formerly visited 
 her; and the children, that is John, Mary and 
 Augusta, had been almost daily visitors at Mrs. 
 Neville's cottage. But Mrs. Neville soon found 
 that such rude, wicked children were not just the 
 companions for her girls. She had at first allowed 
 them to return at long intervals the children's fre 
 quent calls ; but they usually came home in such 
 a sorry plight, from John's mischievous pranks, or 
 from the children's quarrels, that she afterwards 
 kept them away entirely. At this Mrs. Rellim
 
 80 HELETT MACGHREQ-OR, ; OR, 
 
 chose to take offence, pretending to believe that 
 Mrs. Neville considered her children superior to 
 any one else's. She dropped Mrs. Neville's ac 
 quaintance, and forbade her children going there. 
 All this considered, it was anything but pleasant 
 to Mrs. Neville to call there. But self never 
 stood in her way when there was a duty to be 
 performed. She yearned over the desolate Helen, 
 so far from her own home; and she longed 
 to take her to her own warm heart; but Mrs. 
 Neville knew well the angry impatience of many 
 children; and she preferred hearing from Mrs. 
 Rellim's own lips whether she wished to part with 
 Helen, and her reasons for doing so. 
 
 The interview was cold and short. Mrs. Ne 
 ville, with a Christian spirit, strove to be cordial 
 and kind, but Mrs. Rellim gave her to under 
 stand that a few words on the business subject 
 about which she had called were all that would 
 be acceptable. 
 
 Mrs. Neville found that everything was just as 
 Helen had stated it ; and she determined to give 
 the lonely stranger a home. 
 
 Just as Mrs. Neville stepped out of the door, 
 she fell over a string which John had tied across
 
 " She dropped the pitcher over as gently as possible." p. 133.
 
 CONQUEST A.NT> SACRIFICE. 81 
 
 it for the express purpose of tripping her up. 
 Providentially she did not hurt herself, only jarred 
 her head considerably, which gave her a headache 
 for the rest of the day. John, who was hidden 
 behind some bushes, at a little distance, lay down 
 on the grass and rolled over and over with 
 laughter. 
 
 Just at that moment Helen was carrying a 
 bucket of water into the yard, for Gussie to water 
 her flowers with. She did not know who the 
 lady was, but she had seen John laughing, and 
 knew it was some of his mischief. Helen at 
 home had always been taught politeness, and such 
 a rude action disgusted her. 
 
 "Very well, Master John, 'it's a poor rule that 
 won't work both ways,' " .she said, as she came up 
 to where he was lying laughing; and without a 
 moment's hesitation she emptied the bucket of 
 water over him. John's laughter instantly turned 
 into anger ; he jumped up and ran, but it was in 
 vain ; Helen had foreseen the consequences, and in 
 stantly throwing down the empty bucket, made for 
 the house. She reached her room, and locked the 
 door, just as John gave a vigorous kick against it. 
 Notwithstanding his wet clothes, John continued at
 
 82 HELEN MACGKREGOR,; OR, 
 
 the door waiting for Helen to come out. But 
 although Helen was very anxious to fulfil her 
 promise to Nora, and very much worried as to 
 what she should do, she knew John's violent tem 
 per too well to venture out until his wrath had 
 cooled. Thus Nora waited in vain at the little 
 gate for her expected guest. 
 
 Mrs. Rellim had promised that Helen should 
 come round that very afternoon, if she wished to 
 accept Mrs. Neville's offer; but she did not think 
 it worth while to send for Helen, on purpose to 
 tell her. So she did not mention it until dinner 
 time. 
 
 Helen, with the quick fancy of youth, had taken 
 a strong liking to Nora the evening before ; and it 
 delighted her to think of living with her. Some 
 one, it seems, really did wish for her. She had felt 
 the whole morning as though no one cared for 
 her, and as if everybody was anxious to get rid of 
 her. A load was lifted from her heart. 
 
 This was the first time the children had heard 
 that Helen was to leave ; they were all surprised, 
 and some were sorry. 
 
 " And you are going to live at Neville's ?" said 
 Mary, curling her lip, " I don't envy you. They
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 83 
 
 don't keep any servant, and you'll have to run 
 errands, as Nora does." 
 
 Helen's cheek flushed with shame, and a pain 
 shot through her heart, as she thought, " I expect 
 they are quite poor, and live in a mean house. I 
 won't go live there, and have to work." But the 
 next instant the bitter thought came that she had 
 nowhere else to go. And she looked with regret 
 on the splendid dining-room, and the silver and 
 the glass on the luxuriously furnished table. 
 
 After dinner, when Helen was packing up her 
 box, Gussie came in and slipped into her hand a 
 very pretty copy of Robinson Crusoe. 
 
 " Take it, Helen, I'm so sorry you are going 
 away ; keep it, to make you think about me ; for 
 I'll never hardly get to see you any more." 
 
 Gussie began to cry; and the tears came to 
 Helen's eyes as she took the book. 
 
 " I cannot read it, Gussie ; you keep it." 
 
 " Oh, no, I don't want it ; you will soon learn, 
 now you are going there. Oh, but you will like 
 it, Helen, they are all so nice ; and you will be 
 with Nora, too." 
 
 " I'm very much obliged, Gussie," said Helen, 
 as she turned over the leaves of the handsome
 
 84 HELEN" 3VE.A.CG!-:REGK>R.; OR, 
 
 book; "when I learn to read it, you can come 
 down, and we will read it together." 
 
 " Oh, I can't come and see you ; ma won't let 
 us." 
 
 Helen's cheeks again crimsoned. "It is be 
 cause they are so poor," she thought ; " I wish, oh 
 how I wish, I had somewhere else to go." 
 
 Harboring such thoughts Helen was in no very 
 good humor to look at her new home. She gazed 
 wistfully around on every gay and handsome 
 thing, from the rose-colored curtains to the luxu 
 rious carpet, and sighed as she looked at them for 
 the last time. 
 
 Ah, Helen ! Where were the grateful thoughts 
 that should have filled your heart that God had 
 not left you desolate, but had in your hour of need 
 raised up kind friends? And then, too, were 
 there no thanks due to the strangers who, unasked, 
 had volunteered their help? As to the trouble 
 and expense she might be, Helen was too little ac 
 customed to life's responsibilities to think of them. 
 
 In the meantime, a joyful welcome was pre 
 paring for the ungrateful Helen, in Mrs. Neville's 
 neat cottage. Barbara and Nora had a half holi 
 day for the occasion. Helen was to occupy a
 
 CONQUEST .A-ND SACRIFICE. 85 
 
 room next to theirs; and busy hands had been 
 making it as pretty as possible. There was a 
 communicating door between the two rooms, and 
 the girls had quite rejoiced over the fact, thinking 
 that when they became quite intimate they could 
 always have it open. 
 
 Barbara had tied the white curtains back with 
 some pink ribbon, to match the ribbon in their 
 room ; and Nora had gathered all her choicest 
 flowers into a fragrant bouquet, which, to make it 
 look still more charming, she had placed in a 
 white marble vase that her Aunt Stella had given 
 her, and that usually stood in the parlor, but was 
 now taken out to grace the dressing bureau of 
 " Helen's room," as Nora already called it. 
 
 When everything was finished that could possi 
 bly be done, they washed and dressed themselves ; 
 and as Barbara's hair was very long and thick, 
 Nora plaited one side, while she herself did the 
 other, for fear they would not be ready by the 
 time Helen came. Then they went to take a last 
 look at the room. 
 
 " Don't it look lovely ?" asked Nora. 
 
 " Yes, it does look nice," said the less enthusias 
 tic Barbara, " of course it don't look anything like
 
 86 HELEN" MA-OOREOOR; OR, 
 
 as large and grand as the bed-rooms at Mrs. Rel- 
 lim's, but it is so comfortable, and clean, and 
 pretty, that I shouldn't think Helen would care." 
 
 "Oh, she won't care," answered Nora; "why, 
 what's the difference where we sleep, if we only 
 sleep soundly ?" 
 
 Thus saying she ran down stairs, followed by 
 Barbara. It was four o'clock, and the garden was 
 warm and sunny, so they sat down on the porch 
 Barbara with a book, and Nora with some knit 
 ting. Mrs. Neville had gone to see a sick neigh 
 bor. The visit was one that she had wished to 
 pay at some time, but she chose that particular 
 afternoon, because she knew young girls get ac 
 quainted sooner when there are no grown people 
 about; and she thought if Helen were shown 
 around her new home by Barbara and Nora, she 
 would feel more at ease, and be sooner contented. 
 
 An hour passed away ; Barbara had not raised 
 her eyes from her book j for reading was Barbara's 
 great passion, and even Helen, for the time, was 
 forgotten. Not so with Nora ; she had gone down 
 to the gate, and looked wistfully up the road, at 
 least half a dozen times. She did not wish to in 
 terrupt her sister, knowing well that Barbara did
 
 CONQUKST A.NZ> SACRIFICE. 87 
 
 not like to be disturbed when she was reading, but 
 after a while, she could keep quiet no longer. 
 
 " Barbara, I don't believe she is coming this 
 afternoon, do you ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is early yet." 
 
 " Early ! Why it is five o'clock." 
 
 " Is it really five o'clock ? I did not know it 
 was so late. Mother will be home soon. Did 
 you put on the tea-kettle ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, I forgot it. I'm so glad you told me, 
 Barbara." 
 
 Nora put on the tea-kettle, and Barbara went 
 on with her book. Mrs. Neville came home, and 
 still Helen had not come. 
 
 " Perhaps she will come to-morrow morning," 
 said Mrs. Neville, cheerfully. 
 
 But Nora and Barbara were very much disap 
 pointed. Nora set the tea-table very quietly, with 
 none of her usual merry comments. Mrs. Neville 
 baked the short-cakes which were just done to a 
 turn, as Nora, almost dropping a glass dish she 
 held, exclaimed, 
 
 " There she is !" 
 
 And she was out of the room, and down the 
 walk almost before Mrs. Neville could turn round.
 
 88 HELEN M ACG-IiEGS-OR, ; OR, 
 
 With a slow step, and scanning eye, Helen en 
 tered the gravel walk. For the last hour she had 
 been sitting in the woods, spending her time in 
 useless regrets and vain murmurings at her lot. 
 She had bid good-bye, she said to herself, to a 
 luxurious life of ease and wealth, and she was in 
 no hurry to bury herself in a poor cottage where 
 she would have to work like a servant. One 
 thing she had made up her mind to : she would 
 get Mrs. Neville to write at once to her father to 
 send for her to come home. Thus filled with re 
 bellious thoughts, Helen's mind was lingering in 
 the dim old woods, as she slowly approached the 
 house. Nora's cordial welcome, and her evident 
 regret that she did not come sooner, made Helen 
 feel ashamed. Nora introduced her to her mother 
 and Barbara, and they both received her with so 
 much warmth and pleasure that Helen's heart 
 softened yet more. 
 
 Nora led her up stairs to take off her things, 
 and told her that that was to be her own room. 
 The snowy bed, and white curtains, and the sweet 
 breath of the flowers, all spoke to Helen of peace 
 ful days and domestic joys ; but her mind would 
 wander with regret to the room she had left.
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 89 
 
 As Helen sat down to the well-laid table, she 
 acknowledged to herself that there was an air of 
 refinement over everything, that was wanting in 
 Mrs. Rellim's statelier mansion. 
 
 The table cloth was of the purest linen, the 
 dishes white and shining. Strawberries blushed in 
 a handsome cut-glass dish ; and cake lay in delicious 
 niceness in a silver basket. These were all relics 
 of more prosperous days. 
 
 Helen looked round ; everything was furnished 
 tastefully and well ; and even the rough fact of 
 baking cakes Mrs. Neville performed with a lady 
 like grace that astonished Helen, accustomed as 
 she had been to the coarse manners of the servants 
 at Mrs. Eellim's. 
 
 When supper was over Nora almost hid her 
 self in a large check apron, which fastened around 
 the neck with a string, and came down to the bot 
 tom of her dress. She laughed merrily as she 
 looked down at herself, and Helen joined in the 
 laugh. 
 
 " You see," said Nora, " it is my week in the 
 kitchen, and so I am going to wash the dishes 
 now," and she proceeded to pour water out of the 
 kettle into the dish pan.
 
 90 HELE3ST MACGHREGfOR.; OR,, 
 
 Mrs. Neville took the work basket and com 
 menced darning some stockings, and Barbara sat 
 down in the open door-way. The merry manner 
 in which Nora went to work seemed to take away 
 the fact that it was work at all. Helen expected 
 to be disgusted with the " servants' work," as she 
 imitated Mary Rellim in saying, but she found 
 herself laughing quite as heartily as the rest, when 
 Nora, in her excitement, wiped a dish carefully, 
 and then put it back in the pan of water! 
 
 When all was finished, Nora took off her apron, 
 and with Helen and Barbara went into the gar 
 den. 
 
 First they visited the flower garden in front of 
 the house, a perfect wilderness of beauty. Hoses 
 bloomed on all sides, from the crimson petals of 
 the damask, to the snowy blossoms of the acacia. 
 Heliotrope, sweet alyssum, mignonette, white lilies, 
 and the sweet brier laded the air with perfume. 
 Helen was delighted. She loved flowers in 
 tensely; and as she bent over to inhale their 
 sweetness, tears sprang into her eyes. Helen once 
 again saw the green hills of her own dear land. 
 Oh, the subtile power of a perfume to carry mem 
 ory back to sunny haunts of other days ! Helen's
 
 CON-QUEST A.NT) SACRIFICE. 91 
 
 heart went forth in vague, wild yearnings for her 
 absent home. 
 
 Nora and Barbara saw the tears, but were too 
 considerate to notice them in words; only Nora 
 gently put her arm around her, and said, gaily, 
 
 " This is my bed over here, and that is Bar 
 bara's. Mother lets us plant just what we wish." 
 
 It was curious to note the difference in the two 
 flower-beds. Barbara's contained only a few flow 
 ers, but those were very choice ; while Nora's held 
 in it a little of everything. There was some 
 chick-weed in one corner, because Nora always 
 supplied the birds in the village with it ; a few 
 flowers and various kinds of herbs which Nora 
 dried and put away in bundles, because poor peo 
 ple were always wanting them. 
 
 After Helen had duly admired all these, they 
 went to the vegetable garden at the back of the 
 cottage. Here Mrs. Neville usually raised all the 
 vegetables necessary for their own use. Her hus 
 band had been a physician, with a lucrative prac 
 tice ; but cut off suddenly hi early life by an epi 
 demic fever, he had left only a small annuity to 
 support his wife and two children. Mrs. Neville 
 had moved into this small cottage, and by strict
 
 92 HELEN MA-CGKREGOR; OK,, 
 
 economy managed to keep a comfortable home. 
 Mr. Nelson, their landlord, a rich bachelor who 
 had been an intimate friend of her husband's, sent 
 his own gardener each spring to prepare the 
 ground and plant the vegetables, as well as to 
 superintend it once in a while. Helen not know 
 ing this, was surprised at the size and perfection 
 of everything ; and she was just going to ask about 
 it, when Mrs. Neville's voice was heard calling 
 them to come in. 
 
 It was the time for evening worship. Mrs. 
 Neville read a chapter in the Bible, and they all 
 knelt down while she offered a fervent prayer. 
 In that prayer Helen was not forgotten. Thanks 
 were given to God for having found a home for 
 the stranger. Earnest supplication was made that 
 they might all live happily together as a Christian 
 family j and that Helen might ere long be gathered 
 as a lamb to the fold of Christ. 
 
 When Helen retired that night, the room and 
 its contents were forgotten in the recollection of 
 that solemn prayer. For the first time in her life 
 she thought seriously of God and religion. Could 
 it be possible, she thought, that it was the great 
 God who had found that home for her ? " Ah,"
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 93 
 
 she continued aloud, "old Margie would say it 
 was my good luck ; but Mr. Ashton said there 
 was no such thing; I wonder which is right? 
 TJiey are. I feel they are ; it must have been God 
 directed me here. And I I'm sure I did not 
 want to come. I do not want to stay. Mrs. 
 Neville told me to thank him to-night ; but I will 
 not, I am not contented." 
 
 Helen went to the looking-glass and began 
 taking down her hair; she smiled back at the 
 pretty face it reflected ; but all she could do she 
 could not avoid hearing the whispers of conscience, 
 nor still the cry of an awaking spirit. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through 
 Helen's mind, Barbara and Nora in the next room 
 were also preparing for bed. 
 
 "What do you think of her, Barbara? Isn't 
 she lovely ?" 
 
 " Yes, she is very pretty ; she puts me in mind 
 of the picture of Grace Hawthorne, in the Sunday- 
 school book we were reading." 
 
 " Oh, she is much prettier than the picture of 
 Grace, for don't you remember Grace looked as if 
 she had crooked eyes, and how we laughed at it ? 
 I wonder if Helen is as good ? I wonder if she'll
 
 94 HELEN 
 
 blot her copy-book, or lose her slate-pencils as I 
 do," continued Nora, sitting on the floor in her 
 night dress, with her hands clasped round her 
 knees. 
 
 "Nora, you've not read yet; and you know 
 mother don't like us to keep the light burning." 
 
 " Oh, I forgot," said Nora, jumping up and 
 taking her little Bible, " I guess she'll be like you 
 Barbara, so careful." 
 
 " Hush, Nora, how can I read ?" 
 
 "Just one question, Barbara, dear; you know 
 after I have read and said my prayers, I can't 
 speak. Do you think she'll ever wear her 
 Scotch dress?" 
 
 Barbara made no answer, and with a sigh 
 of disappointment Nora opened her Bible and 
 began to read. But she was not as attentive 
 as usual that night; and even after they were 
 in bed she broke one of her mother's rules by 
 whispering the question again to Barbara. Bar 
 bara only gave her a push with her arm, and 
 Nora, sorry for having spoken, turned over, and 
 tried to sleep.
 
 VII. 
 
 TSJE DOJtCAS SOCIETY. 
 
 "I would not that life's changing sky 
 
 Should know no cloudy weather, 
 That shadows fall not on the heart, 
 
 But sunlight altogether; 
 The blossoms on the brow of May 
 
 Are born of April showers, 
 And shall we be too wise to learn 
 
 A lesson from the flowers?" 
 
 PjEVERAL days passed away, and Helen was 
 kj beginning to feel more at home. She found 
 that in this well-appointed household, each one 
 had her own special duties ; and that everything 
 was systematized in such a way, that all had time 
 for work and play. Mrs. Neville carried out 
 strictly the old saying, "a place for everything, 
 and everything in its place." Which, simple rule 
 that it is, has saved many a fit of ill humor and 
 impatience. 
 
 Mrs. Neville had given Helen a small Bible, 
 
 95
 
 96 HEIuETs" IMACOOREGOR; Olt, 
 
 exactly like Barbara's and Nora's, and a flower 
 bed like theirs also. Of this last, Helen thought 
 and cared much more than she did of the former. 
 Each morning during those long warm days 
 of summer, the dressing-bell rang at five o'clock. 
 One week Nora washed the dishes, set the table, 
 and helped her mother in the kitchen, while Bar 
 bara made the beds, and attended to the up stairs 
 work. The next week Barbara took the down 
 stairs work, and Nora the up stairs. Then, whose- 
 ever week it was up stairs, weeded in the gar 
 den half an hour before breakfast, which they 
 ate at six o'clock. At half past eight, school 
 opened. Back of the parlor was a cheerful room, 
 fitted up as a school-room, and called the study. 
 The green carpet, green blinds, and book-case, had 
 once been in Dr. Neville's office. Mrs. Neville 
 had put them in the school-room, thus giving it 
 very much the appearance of a study. 
 
 Mrs. Neville was a highly educated woman, and 
 she preferred teaching her girls herself to sending 
 them to the school on the hill. Here the morning 
 hours were passed until twelve o'clock, when 
 school was over for the day. At one o'clock they 
 took dinner; and from twelve to one, either Bar-
 
 SACRIFICE. 97 
 
 bara or Xora practiced her music lesson. From 
 two to three was the study hour. From three to 
 four they sewed. Each one made and mended her 
 own clothes, with Mrs. Xeville's assistance and di 
 rection ; from four, until bed-time, they could do 
 as they pleased. This, Helen soon learned, was 
 the regular order of the day. 
 
 So far she had not been asked to do anything, 
 and it pleased her well. To be sure she did feel 
 ashamed sometimes, and had almost made up her 
 mind to offer to help; but she was still thinking 
 about it. She had been given her seat in the 
 study, provided with books, and had commenced 
 studying with an alacrity that pleased Mrs. Xe- 
 ville. 
 
 Everything had gone on very smoothly; the 
 girls were finding all their pleasant anticipations 
 realized, and were learning to love Helen very 
 much, and to think her very good. 
 
 One morning as Helen awoke, and saw the sun 
 shining into her room so brightly, she jumped 
 hastily up. saying, 
 
 " I wonder if the dressing-bell has rung yet ? 
 It is Saturday morning." 
 
 But her doubts were instantly dispelled by a fu-
 
 98 HELEN M ACGKRE&OR, ; OR, 
 
 rious ringing, and Nora's merry voice calling 
 out, 
 
 "Dressing-bell! Dressing-bell!" 
 
 Helen put her head out of the door to join her 
 laugh, and cry as they used to on board the boat, 
 
 " Gentlemen who have not paid for their tickets, 
 will please step up to the Captain's office and 
 settle." Then she quickly withdrew her head, as 
 Nora pretended to throw the bell up at her. 
 
 "What a sweet canny darling Nora is," thought 
 Helen, as she was dressing, "she turns all her 
 tasks into happiness. Now it is her week in the 
 kitchen, and she often has to give up some play 
 that she enjoys very much, to go and set the table, 
 or get the milk, and she never seems to mind it at 
 all. Yes, there must be a great deal in religion. 
 She finds so much comfort in her prayers and 
 texts, while they are nothing to me; perhaps I 
 shall learn some day," and with a sigh half merry, 
 half sad, Helen finished dressing. Then she put 
 the bed-clothes on a chair to air, and opened the 
 window. 
 
 "There," she exclaimed, "I believe that is just 
 as Barbara told me," and she turned again to the 
 window, and drank in the sweet morning air, laden
 
 CONQUEST -A-ND SACRIFICE. 99 
 
 with perfume, and filled with the melody of 
 birds. 
 
 "Oh, how I wish there was nothing in the 
 whole world to do but to lie down under green 
 trees, and listen to the birds sing, to live on the 
 breath of roses, and idle away long summer days 
 in mossy dells, and beside sparkling waters. Why 
 must life be full of work and study?" 
 
 Helen thus dreamed away her morning half 
 hour, and was only roused by Barbara's voice 
 singing in the parlor below. Helen ran down 
 quickly, and burst into a merry laugh, as Barbara, 
 with her head tied up in a towel, and a dust-pan 
 in her hand, met her in the entry. 
 
 "Well, Barbara, I find you are one of the early 
 birds this morning." 
 
 "You know it is Saturday," said Barbara, "and 
 I've swept the parlor already ; now, while I'm eat 
 ing my breakfast, the dust will be settling nicely." 
 
 Helen looked at her with a smile and a sigh. 
 The smile was for Barbara's industry, the sigh for 
 her own idleness. 
 
 After breakfast Mrs. Neville asked Helen if she 
 would please wash the dishes, as Barbara was 
 dusting the parlor, Nora sweeping the kitchen,
 
 100 HELEN" M A.CG-REGOR ; OR, 
 
 preparatory to scrubbing it, and she herself was 
 going to market. 
 
 Helen answered, "Yes, ma'am," but Mrs. Ne 
 ville noticed with sorrow the flush of annoyance on 
 her cheek, and her discontented look. She had 
 undertaken the charge of Helen, and she wished 
 to bring her up exactly as she would if she were 
 her own daughter. She had allowed her several 
 days to get accustomed to things; but now she 
 wished her to begin, well knowing Helen would 
 feel more at home when once she took her share in 
 the domestic affairs. 
 
 Mrs. Neville took no notice of Helen's ill hu 
 mor, but went out. As soon as she had gone, 
 Helen sat down to indulge her angry thoughts. 
 "She didn't like to work," she said to herself, 
 "she hated it, and she didn't intend to be forever 
 doing it." 
 
 Nora peeped her curly head in at the door for a 
 moment, to ask how she was getting along. But 
 seeing Helen seated and looking so glum, she 
 asked what was the matter. 
 
 "Nothing," answered Helen coldly. 
 
 "Dear Helen, it must be something. Can I 
 help you?"
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 101 
 
 "You can please leave me alone," was the un 
 gracious answer. 
 
 Nora shut the door, and the tears stood hi her 
 eyes at Helen's unkind manner. This was the first 
 cloud that had dimmed their pleasure since Helen's 
 arrival. Nora remembered her mother's caution, 
 and kneeling down in the kitchen she said a short 
 prayer, asking God to help Helen, and to give to 
 her own heart grace to overlook all unkindness. 
 
 When Helen heard Mrs. Neville's voice in the 
 kitchen, some time afterwards, she commenced 
 washing the dishes, and having finished them, she 
 went up to her own room to put it in order. But 
 instead of coming down, she lingered there, spend 
 ing her time in idle wishing. 
 
 When she came down to dinner no one made 
 any comment on her absence or ill humor; all 
 treated her just as kindly as ever. Helen, with 
 all her faults, was really a warm-hearted girl, and 
 this kindness and forbearance touched her deeply. 
 She felt so ashamed that she longed to acknow 
 ledge her wrong, and to make amends, but pride 
 kept her silent. Helen felt very much dissatisfied 
 with herself, and so more out of humor than ever. 
 
 "This is Dorcas afternoon," said Barbara.
 
 102 HELEN MA-CGHiEGKm ; OR, 
 
 "Oh, so it is," said Nora, "and I can finish the 
 little pair of drawers I am making." 
 
 "What is Dorcas afternoon?" asked Helen. 
 
 Nora proceeded to tell her, that every Saturday 
 afternoon the girls in Mrs. Neville's Bible-class 
 met there to sew for an hour, from half past two to 
 half past three, for the poor in the village. 
 
 "You see," said Barbara, "we keep our sewing 
 circle all the year round, because ours is not like 
 most Dorcas societies, since we only furnish part 
 of the material. But if any of the poor families 
 have clothes to make for themselves, and can't find 
 time, or don't know how to do it, why they bring 
 them to us." 
 
 "That is a very easy way to get rid of work," 
 said Helen. "I think I shall send mine in too." 
 
 "Oh, but we don't make anybody's clothes, un 
 less mother knows that it is impossible for them to 
 do them themselves. Now there was poor Mr. Dean. 
 Last winter his wife died, and left six children, 
 and he could not afford to hire a housekeeper; so 
 his eldest daughter Lucy, only fourteen, had to 
 take care of the house and children ; and of course 
 mother knew she couldn't make her father's shirts 
 and the children's clothes. So our little Dorcas
 
 CONQUEST A3STD SACRIFICE 103 
 
 sewed for her all last winter. And we do yet, 
 sometimes, although Lucy is getting very handy," 
 said Barbara. 
 
 "But I shouldn't think you could get much 
 done in an hour," said Helen. 
 
 "Many hands make light work," said Nora; 
 "mother has eight girls in her class, and Barbara 
 and I make ten, and mother eleven, and mother is 
 nearly equal to a sewing machine, and now you 
 will be twelve." 
 
 Helen did not reply, but she made up her mind 
 that she was not going to trouble herself to hurry. 
 She had to sew on her own clothes every afternoon, 
 during the sewing hour, and she thought that was 
 enough. 
 
 It is wonderful what little things vex and pro 
 voke us, when we are in an irritable humor. 
 When Helen entered the parlor, ten minutes after 
 the time, she found the whole sewing circle busily 
 at work. It would have pleased almost any one 
 to see those ten young girls, all laughing and talk 
 ing, while their fingers flew backwards and for 
 wards over hem or seam. Mrs. Neville introduced 
 Helen, and then told her to select a piece of work 
 out of a large basket which stood in a corner.
 
 104 HELEN" MTA-CGHREGJ-OR,; OR, 
 
 Helen took a small pink apron, which had been 
 cut out of an old one of Nora's. 
 
 " Why, Helen," said Nora, laughingly, " I be 
 lieve you picked out the smallest piece there." 
 
 Many of the girls joined in the laugh, but 
 Helen, instead of taking it in fun, as it was in 
 tended, chose to feel still more out of humor. 
 Then too, she was provoked that Nora should sit 
 by a pale, poorly-dressed girl, and take so much 
 trouble to entertain her. Helen thought she 
 might have come and talked to her, as she was a 
 stranger there. She did not know that this was 
 Lucy Dean, who seldom enjoyed anything, from 
 being so poor, and having the constant care of her 
 little brothers and sisters ; so that when she came 
 there Nora tried to make it pleasant for her. 
 But in a few minutes the talking ceased, and Mrs. 
 Neville read them a short but interesting story. 
 The story was of a man who was very intempe 
 rate, but who was reclaimed through the earnest 
 Christianity of his young daughter. 
 
 Helen sat thinking about it ; her anger was fast 
 changing into sorrow. Nora noticed that Helen 
 looked unhappy, and leaving Lucy she came and 
 sat down by her side.
 
 CONQUEST -A-ND SACRIFICE. 105 
 
 "How did you like the story, Helen?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " I didn't like it at all," answered Helen shortly. 
 
 " You didn't like it !" exclaimed Nora, in sur 
 prise; then seeing Helen's cheek flush painfully, 
 she said softly, " Dear Helen, you are unhappy. 
 What is the matter ?" 
 
 "Well," said Helen, frankly, "I'm in a bad 
 humor. First I was provoked at everybody, and 
 now I am provoked at myself." 
 
 "But that had nothing to do with the story, 
 Helen ; why didn't you like that ?" 
 
 "Because no one could be that good. When 
 Melinda's father got drunk and beat her, she just 
 went away without saying a word and prayed for 
 him. I don't believe it. I would not have staid 
 with him, or if I had to, I would never have let 
 him beat me ; and I'm sure no one could feel like 
 blessing another, after behaving that way." 
 
 " I know," said Nora, " it must have been very 
 hard, and she could never have done it of herself; 
 but Jesus gave her strength." 
 
 " Now really, Nora, do you think God intends 
 us never to resent our injuries? Suppose some 
 one was to come here, and insult me ; I think I
 
 106 HELEN MACGKREOOR ; OR, 
 
 would be foolish to sit down quietly, and not pay 
 him back." 
 
 "Why, Helen dear, didn't you know we are 
 told in the Bible to follow our blessed Saviour's 
 example in all things? And I'm sure we'll never 
 be called on to bear half the sufferings he en 
 dured." 
 
 " But he was God," said Helen, " and he could 
 bear them better." 
 
 "But mother says he bore them as a man, in 
 his human body, and suffered as much as if he had 
 not been God. I know not very long ago a girl 
 took one of Barbara's books ; and she would rather 
 lose anything, almost, than a book ; so she went 
 after it, and the girl told her she hadn't it, and 
 just shut the door in her face. When Barbara 
 came home, she was very angry. Mother talked 
 to us a long time about bearing little things. And 
 I remember she said, that the best way for us to 
 learn to bear our little troubles and disappoint 
 ments patiently, was always to stop and think how 
 much Jesus bore. Just to think, Helen," and 
 the tears started to her eyes, " that they actually 
 slapped him, and spit in his face, and made fun 
 of him, besides scourging him, crowning him with
 
 CONQUEST A.NT3 SACRIFICE. 107 
 
 thorns, and at last crucifying him, and all for 
 us." 
 
 "And just to think," said Helen, "He was 
 God, and might have destroyed them at once." 
 
 " Yes," said Nora, " and yet he only prayed for 
 them. Even on the cross he prayed to God to 
 forgive them. And mother says he gives us some 
 of his strength to endure and forgive, if we only 
 pray for it aright. And so you see, Helen, that 
 was why the girl in the story could do it." 
 
 . " Yes, I suppose she could do it, and so could 
 you, Nora, but I never could." 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed you could, Helen, if you asked 
 Jesus' help, as Melinda did." 
 
 "Well," said Helen, slowly, "perhaps I might; 
 but I'm not like you and Barbara. I hate to be 
 useful; when I was at home I never did any 
 thing, unless I pleased, and now I like to waste 
 my time ; and this morning, when your mother 
 asked me to wash the dishes, I got angry, and 
 when I get angry everything makes me worse ; I 
 shall never learn to be good. If I were only like 
 you and Barbara !" 
 
 " Don't say that, Helen ; you have no idea how 
 heedless I am. But mother says, no matter what
 
 108 HELEN M A.CG-REG-OR ; OR, 
 
 our faults are, Jesus can give us grace to conquer 
 them." 
 
 "Ah," said Helen, "if I only could. You 
 make me long to be a Christian." 
 
 " Do, do be one, Helen dear ; mother says that 
 is the first step in our life-work. For how can 
 we go and work in the Saviour's harvest-fields, 
 unless we are his servants ?" 
 
 " Life-work !" repeated Helen slowly. "Ah, I 
 remember, that calm moonlight night on the 
 ocean. Beauty everywhere around us. Yes/' 
 continued Helen musingly, and speaking more to 
 herself than to her companion," yes, he said I had a 
 life-work to do, and I remember shrinking from 
 the thought. I said to myself, I would rather 
 live on as joyously and unconsciously as a butter 
 fly. But I see there is something more in life 
 than mere pleasure, a higher aim, a sweeter joy. 
 If Mr. Ashton were alive, how I should like to 
 tell him that I understand him better now." 
 
 " Mr. Ashton !" said Nora, " on board of a ves 
 sel ! Why, were you on board the same vessel, 
 coming from Europe, that my uncle Clem was ?" 
 
 "Your uncle!" said Helen, "was the Rev. 
 Clement Ashton your uncle ?"
 
 CONQUEST AKTD SACRIFICE. 109 
 
 " Yes," said Nora sadly, " dear uncle Clem and 
 aunt Miriam both died at sea. That is why 
 mother is so quiet, and the tears often fill her 
 eyes ; he was her only brother, and we all loved 
 him so. Did you know him well?" and Nora 
 bent down over her sewing to hide her tears. 
 
 Helen was astonished ; she commenced relating, 
 in a hurried manner, Mr. Ashton's visit to the 
 Highlands, and her own departure with him v 
 The conversation was interrupted by the breaking 
 up of the sewing party, and Nora left Helen to 
 help the girls on with their things, and to bid 
 them good-bye. But when the last one had gone 
 out of the garden gate, Nora told the news. They 
 were all surprised. This was the first time they 
 had heard the true version of Helen's emigration. 
 The girls, instead of going to the woods, as they 
 had intended, spent the afternoon with their 
 mother, listening to Helen's account of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ashton. Many tears were shed over the 
 loved brother and uncle, and the gentle aunt Mir 
 iam. And Mrs. Neville clasped Helen to her 
 heart, and said she should indeed be a daughter to 
 her. 
 
 She felt as though God had directed Helen 
 10
 
 110 HELEN" JVLA-OGrREGOR. 
 
 there, that she might fulfil, as far as she could, 
 her brother's promises. 
 
 She also told Helen, that on Monday she would 
 write to Scotland, and inform her father of all that 
 had happened. 
 
 When Helen went to bed that night, she felt 
 happier than she had felt for a long time. The 
 love and kindness of the Neville family, and their 
 deep religious principles, were influencing her heart 
 and mind. She longed to be like them ; and she 
 knelt and prayed to God to teach her to live a 
 better life. 
 
 Then, too, Nora and Barbara seemed to her 
 almost like sisters now, since she was to have been 
 the adopted daughter of their uncle. 
 
 For the first time since she came there, Helen 
 lay down in her comfortable bed, with no thought 
 of its simple neatness contrasting with the gran 
 deur of Mrs. Rellim's.
 
 VIII. 
 
 IffE DAY OF REST. 
 
 " And sweetly over hill and dale 
 
 The silvery sounding church bells ring; 
 Across the moor and down the dale 
 They come and go, and on the gale 
 Their Sabbath tidings fling." 
 
 HOW very different our evening thoughts ap 
 pear to us, in the broad light of the morning. 
 Perhaps we have spent the night in fear and 
 anxiety, but the cheerful sunlight inspires confi 
 dence and hope. It sometimes seems as though 
 one of the great missions of night was to make us 
 pause and think, undisturbed by the many dis 
 tractions of the day. But, alas, it often happens 
 that the good resolution of the night, like the dew, 
 evaporates in the genial warmth of daylight. 
 When Helen went to bed the night before, she 
 felt as though all in the house had attained to a 
 
 Christian life which she feared she could never 
 
 in
 
 112 HELEN MACGHiEQOI?,; OR,, 
 
 imitate, and she had prayed for help to live better. 
 When she arose in the morning, her fear of the 
 evening before had gone. 
 
 "If they are kind and obliging to me," she 
 thought, "I can return it surely. I love them, 
 and it cannot be a hard task to oblige those we 
 love. What would Margaret think? She used 
 always to say I was the brightest blossom in the 
 Highlands ; what would she think, did she know, 
 there are others here whose words and actions put 
 her own Helen to shame ? No," continued Helen, 
 and she looked into the glass, and threw back her 
 head, with a gesture worthy of her father, " No, a 
 Highland girl must never be outdone in kind 
 ness." 
 
 Poor, foolish Helen! Striving to stand on the 
 sandy foundation of her own weak will. The 
 great defect in Helen's character, was the want of 
 a guiding principle. She loved to admire, and 
 dream of great purposes, and noble deeds, but 
 when the moment came to perform them, she sank 
 back into selfish indolence. She liked to do kind 
 and generous things, when they cost her little 
 trouble ; but even then, she did them without any 
 discrimination, and bestowed her money as readily
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 113 
 
 for a bad as for a good cause, if it happened to 
 touch her feelings. She never stopped to ask her 
 self the questions, " Is it right ? "Will it please 
 God ?" Of all this, old Margaret never thought, 
 how then should Helen know? Thus she be 
 gan that week on the wrong principle. Very 
 true Helen had prayed, the night before, for 
 strength and guidance; but she only wished to 
 imitate the daily life around her, which she ad 
 mired. No deep sorrow for her pride and un- 
 thankfulness and many sins, sent her a lowly pen 
 itent to the foot of the cross ; and until then, she 
 must walk on in darkness, vainly struggling for 
 the light. 
 
 She went to Sunday-school and church with 
 Barbara and Nora, and begais her first week 
 of work, true to her good resolution, with a promp 
 titude that pleased Mrs. Neville. Helen was very 
 well satisfied ; she took " a ray of sunlight for an 
 abiding day," and came to the conclusion that to 
 be a Christian only needed a firm determination 
 to do right. 
 
 " Oh, dear, what shall I do ?" said Nora, in a 
 distressed tone, coming after dinner into the study 
 
 where Barbara was reading her library book, 
 10 * H
 
 114 HELEN MACGKREOOR; OR, 
 
 and Helen was looking over the pictures in the 
 large Bible. 
 
 " What is the matter?" asked Helen. 
 
 " I cannot find my Bible," answered Nora, be 
 ginning to go round the room, and turning up 
 everything she came to. 
 
 " Don't make such a noise, please, Nora," said 
 Barbara ; " it was so cool and quiet in here, I was 
 just saying it seemed like Sunday. Your book 
 can't be in here ; you have not been in this room 
 to-day, before." 
 
 " No, I know I wasn't, but then it might have 
 got in here, for my things get everywhere. I'll 
 try and not make a noise, Barbara dear." 
 
 " I'll help you look for it," said Helen, getting 
 up, " if you want it now ; but there are two Bibles 
 on the book shelf, why don't you read in one of 
 those?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know there are plenty of Bibles," 
 said Nora, knocking down three books in her 
 search ; " but see, it is nearly a quarter of three 
 o'clock, and at three mamma will be in, for it is 
 our lesson hour, and she always wants us to 
 use our own Bibles. Oh, I do wish I did not 
 forget so."
 
 CONQUEST -A-NX> SACRIFICE. 115 
 
 "Why, do you have a lesson on Sunday?" 
 asked Helen, looking surprised. 
 
 " Oh, a Bible lesson. You will like it, Helen ; 
 mother always gives us some man or woman in 
 the Bible to study about, and then we learn all we 
 can of them, and mother questions us, and 
 talks to us about them." 
 
 " Take my Bible," said Helen, "you know it is 
 just like yours, and your mother will never 
 notice." 
 
 " Oh, Helen, how can you ? Why that would 
 be deceiving mother, and acting a story." 
 
 Helen drew back slightly offended, and said 
 pettishly, " Well, even if she did know it, I don't 
 see why she would care. One Bible is just as 
 good as another." 
 
 " Yes, so it is. But mother says if we . keep 
 our own Bibles, and always use them, they become 
 so dear to us after a while, that we love them, and 
 love to read in them, and get used to finding all 
 the places." 
 
 " Really, Nora, I can't make any sense of what 
 I'm reading, you talk so," said Barbara ; " your 
 Bible can't be in here." 
 
 " No, it isn't in here ; I'll go out and look in
 
 116 UEXjEN" IVLA-CGKREQ-OR; OR, 
 
 the parlor once more, though I'm sure I have 
 looked everywhere." 
 
 Nora searched in the parlor, the kitchen, and 
 the porch, and Helen followed. 
 
 " Do try and think what you did with it, when 
 you came in from church ; I saw it in your hand 
 then," said Helen ; "where did you go first?" 
 
 " I just came in, and went up stairs, and took 
 off my hat and mantle, and put on my apron, and 
 came down here on the porch, and sat until din 
 ner time." 
 
 " Did you look up stairs ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I looked all over, and shook out my 
 mantle too. But come, we must go in now, it is 
 almost three, and mother will be down directly." 
 
 " Take my Bible," insisted Helen. 
 
 " I would not care so much," continued Nora, 
 with a sigh, and without answering Helen, " only 
 I have been trying so hard lately not to forget 
 where I put things, and now mother will think I 
 have gone back already." 
 
 " Take my Bible," again said Helen, as they 
 reached the study door. 
 
 Nora made no answer, and Helen indignantly 
 thought, " There, I don't see any use in my trying
 
 CONQUEST A3STD SACRIFICE. 117 
 
 to behave better. I try to oblige Nora, and she 
 all but tells me I am acting wickedly. I don't 
 see any use in being so very good about trifles. I 
 can't be good where people are so full of notions. 
 Well, never mind, I'll not be discouraged; I'm 
 improving, anyhow, and I don't intend to be out 
 done by Nora." 
 
 Alas, Helen did not know she could never im 
 prove while she trusted to her own guidance and 
 strength. Nor indeed did she succeed entirely in 
 deceiving herself. She secretly admired the firm 
 principle in Nora's life, which made her shun the 
 wrong at once ; but that only added to her desire 
 to live as Nora did. Helen had yet to learn that 
 it is no true kindness to lead another into tempta 
 tion. Many girls would have yielded to her 
 entreaties ; and thus Helen would have been the 
 cause of their deceiving, all through her mistaken 
 notion of being good. But Nora was a Christian 
 child, and said her prayers too faithfully and 
 earnestly, to be so easily led astray. She did not 
 answer Helen again, but opened the study door, 
 and took one of the Bibles off the shelf, and sat 
 down to find the lesson. Barbara also laid aside 
 her book, and took her Bible. Helen drew a
 
 118 HELEN MACGKREGOR, ; OR, 
 
 chair to Nora's side, as Mrs. Neville opened her 
 door, up stairs, preparatory to coming down. 
 
 "Why, what is in your pocket, Nora?" said 
 Helen, "I hit my hand quite hard against it." 
 
 Nora put her hand into her pocket, and they 
 all smiled, as she drew forth the missing Bible. 
 The amusement was scarcely over, when Mrs. 
 Neville entered the room. 
 
 These Sunday afternoon lessons were heartily 
 enjoyed, both by mother and children. It was a 
 pleasant picture, the quiet shady room, Mrs. Ne 
 ville, still fulfilling the promise of her girlhood in 
 her matronly beauty, sitting by the open window, 
 which gave a glimpse of green grass, golden with 
 the warm sunlight, through which came the sweet 
 song of birds, and the perfume of the flower gar 
 den. And Helen's eyes wandered more than once 
 to the bright landscape beyond. Then those 
 youthful forms, bent over their open Bibles, with 
 " their yet unwritten brows," learning to tread in 
 the narrow road which leadeth unto eternal 
 life. 
 
 " What is the character for to-day, Barbara ?" 
 asked Mrs. Neville. 
 
 "Absalom."
 
 CONQUEST A.NT) SACRIFICE. 119 
 
 The lesson then began. Barbara told all 
 that was known of the first part of his life ; that 
 he was David's favorite son, that his mother's 
 name was Maacah, and how beautiful he was. 
 Then Nora took it up, and continued, 
 
 " He had one sister, whom he loved very much, 
 named Tamar. His brother Amnon injured her, 
 and Absalom was very angry with him. He 
 made a great supper at the time of sheep-shearing, 
 and invited all his brethren. They all accepted 
 the invitation, excepting Amnon. Then Absalom 
 asked his father David to compel Amnon to come. 
 Amnon came, and Absalom told his servants to 
 fall on him and kill him, which they did. For 
 this, Absalom was banished from Jerusalem." 
 
 "He was in exile two years," said Barbara, 
 " and then Joab employed a wise woman of Te- 
 koah to go and plead with David, and to repre 
 sent Absalom's case, as though he had been her 
 own son ; and she begged the king that he might 
 be restored from banishment." 
 
 " What did the king say, Nora ?" asked Mrs. 
 Neville. 
 
 " David perceived that she meant Absalom, and 
 he asked at once if Joab had not sent her ? The
 
 120 HELEN 3VEA.CGHIEGOR,; OR, 
 
 woman said, yes, and the king allowed Absalom 
 to return to Jerusalem, but did not see him for 
 two years." 
 
 " After this," said Barbara, " Absalom behaved 
 very badly to Joab. He burned his grain-fields, 
 because Joab did not get him restored to the pre 
 sence of the king his father. After that, Absalom 
 was permitted to go to court." 
 
 " "When Absalom had been in Jerusalem some 
 time," said Nora, " he got himself many chariots 
 and horses, and servants to run before him. Then 
 by his beauty and flattery, he stole the hearts of 
 the children of Israel away from David his father, 
 and he went to Hebron, and had himself pro 
 claimed king there." 
 
 " Go on, Barbara," said Mrs. Neville. 
 
 "The rebellion lasted some time, and David 
 was obliged to flee from Jerusalem. But he gave 
 charge to all the people, and to the captains of his 
 host, that if they took Absalom, they were to spare 
 his life, and deal gently with him. The followers 
 of Absalom were defeated; and Absalom was 
 running away, when the mule on which he rode 
 ran under the thick branches of an oak tree, and 
 Absalom's head was caught in the branches ; the
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 121 
 
 mule went from under him, and left him hang 
 ing there." 
 
 " Some of the men saw him," said Nora, " and 
 they told Joab, and he went and thrust a dart 
 through him, and killed him. David lamented 
 very bitterly over the death of his favorite son." 
 
 Helen had been deeply interested in this story. 
 There was a daring recklessness about Absalom, 
 that suited well her wild fancy. She forgot his 
 deep sins, and base ingratitude to a fond father, 
 and she was thinking so deeply of his shameful 
 death, that she almost started when Mrs. Neville 
 said, 
 
 " There are so many lessons, so many warnings 
 in the life of Absalom, and our hour is so nearly 
 gone, we will only have time for a few remarks 
 now, and take the lessons to be drawn from it for 
 next Sunday afternoon. One point I would spe 
 cially mention, the warning against vanity. Fear 
 fully does the story of Absalom teach, that beauty 
 is a great snare unless it is consecrated to the ser 
 vice of God. Absalom's beauty won him the hearts 
 of Israel, and led to his dark sins. But the prin 
 cipal lesson I wish you to learn from this is the 
 uncertainty of life, and the necessity of being pre- 
 11
 
 122 HELEN MAOGHtEGOR, ; OR,, 
 
 pared for death. The wise man says, " There is a 
 time to die." A time for every one that lives to 
 become even as Absalom. And I was thinking 
 how strikingly this death of Absalom teaches us 
 that nothing earthly can save us from the doom 
 of all. Absalom was the son of a king, and so 
 stood high among men. He was very wealthy; 
 we are told he had several thousand chariots, 
 horses, and servants. He was very beautiful. 
 He was deeply loved by his father, and by all 
 Israel. More than that, he was young. And yet 
 he died. Nothing earthly could save him ; neither 
 wealth, nor greatness, nor beauty; not the fond, 
 doting love of a father, who was one of God's 
 chosen ; not the strength and vigor of his youthful 
 manhood, nothing. It had come his time to die, 
 as it will come ours ; and, oh, then, my dear chil 
 dren, happy are they who have the Saviour's arm 
 to lean upon; who have a Saviour's hand to 
 smooth a dying pillow. Did you ever lie awake 
 at night, and think, suppose I should die to-night, 
 to what place would I go ? Would I have the 
 blessed Saviour to lead me gently through the 
 dark waters up to the eternal gates of pearl? 
 Dear girls, nothing grand, or great, or beautiful,
 
 CONQUEST A.TW SACRIFICE. 123 
 
 that earth bestows, could save Absalom; and 
 nothing earthly will avail you in that solemn hour. 
 Then pray each day more earnestly for faith and 
 love. Lay up treasure in heaven ; so, when the 
 Master cometh, at midnight, or at the cock-crow 
 ing, he shall find you ready." 
 
 Mrs. Neville ceased, and tears dimmed the eyes 
 of her youthful listeners. When she left the room, 
 quietness reigned in the little study. Each one 
 was thinking, in her own way, of Mrs. Neville's 
 words, " you, too, must die." And to each one, 
 how differently came the thought. 
 
 Barbara thought at first of the dread of dying ; 
 but she soon remembered stories she had read of 
 children who had died happy, and she gradually 
 wandered away in fancy, to her own tomb, when 
 she should be dead; and how her mother and 
 sister, perhaps, would kneel and weep over her, 
 till in the fancy picture she forgot the solemn pre 
 paration and the life hereafter. 
 
 Not so Nora. With sweet childish faith, 
 she believed that her Saviour was ready to wel 
 come her. Had he not said, "Suffer little chil 
 dren, and forbid them not to come unto me : for of 
 such is the kingdom of heaven ?" She had gone
 
 124 HELEN MACGHREOOR; OR, 
 
 to him, with all her sins and weaknesses. She 
 loved him, and a sweet peace settled on her heart 
 as the beautiful words of the hymn came into her 
 mind, 
 
 " Fear not, I am with thee ; be not dismayed ! 
 For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid j 
 I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand, 
 Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand." 
 
 She stole quietly up to her own room, there to 
 kneel once more and hold sweet communion with 
 her Saviour. 
 
 But of what was Helen thinking ? How came 
 the solemn warning to the gay Scotch girl ? She 
 leaned her elbow on the table, and her head in her 
 hand, and gave herself up to deep thought. She 
 was troubled to the very depths of her soul, with 
 a vague yearning and unrest. A vision of her 
 own native land swept over her, its lone moun 
 tains and wild moors, where, free and careless, she 
 had followed her own gay will, without a shade 
 of care. No one there had troubled her with 
 thoughts of dying. No one had urged Jier to love 
 a crucified Redeemer ; and she longed to be back 
 again, treading with light, free footstep the moun 
 tain side. And yet, through all this longing, a
 
 CONQUEST AND SACJtllTTOE. 125 
 
 still small voice was whispering, " there is a higher 
 life ; you must live forever, either in happiness or 
 in misery." She had not lived even for that short 
 time, in the heart of a truly Christian family, 
 without feeling that there must be a life beyond. 
 Their actions were guided by rules of which she 
 knew nothing. 
 
 But sadness was not pleasing to Helen. She 
 soon began to think more cheerfully. She glanced 
 into the looking-glass. Her dark curls swept a 
 cheek rosy with health, and giving her head a gay 
 shake, she smiled, as she thought, " Why should I 
 worry? I am young and healthy, and life is very 
 pleasant. Besides, I would never be as wicked as 
 Absalom was." 
 
 Stop, Helen ! Look into your heart. Are you 
 not, even now, rebelling against God, your heav 
 enly Father refusing to submit to his will in 
 all things? Have you not been ungrateful for his 
 many favors? Even now, do you not look into 
 the glass with some of Absalom's vanity? Van 
 ity, ingratitude, rebellion! Are Absalom's sins 
 yours, my reader? Oh, think how earthly pride 
 and vanity must appear in the holy presence 
 11*
 
 126 HELEN M^VCGKREGJOR. 
 
 and splendor of Him before whom the angels veil 
 their faces! 
 
 Does ingratitude whisper in your heart a discon 
 tent with a humble home? or with the all-wise 
 dealings of the God who gives you all things, even 
 the very air you breathe? Oh, if such be your 
 case, rebel no longer against One before whom re 
 bellion is impotent, and yet who condescends to 
 entreat your love and fealty, who gave his only 
 Son, to win you back to love and life.
 
 IX. 
 
 THE BROKEN PIXCHER. 
 
 " One by one thy duties meet thee; 
 
 Let thy whole strength go to each : 
 Let no future dream elate thee ; 
 
 Learn thou first what these can teach." 
 
 WEEKS glide rapidly by when busy hands 
 arid light hearts help them on their way. 
 Helen was still struggling on in her pride and self- 
 will, striving to attain to a Christian life without 
 the help of the great Guide. She was like a blind 
 man walking on the verge of a precipice, who re 
 fuses to listen to the friendly voices around him 
 urging him out of danger, and who heeds not the 
 hand stretched out to succor him. Thus Helen 
 lived week after week, and listened to Mrs. Ne 
 ville's earnest prayers and teachings without pro 
 fiting by them. She strove to still the murmur- 
 ings of an awakened spirit by the performance of 
 good deeds. Hers was a gay, lively disposition, 
 and when conscience whispered, she drowned the 
 
 127
 
 128 HELEN 3VLA.CGREQOR; OR, 
 
 still small voice in some funny prank or amusing 
 play. She took her turn in the household duties 
 without repining outwardly, but inwardly she still 
 longed for the wealth and ease of Mrs. Rellim's. 
 Her happiest hours were spent in the school-room. 
 There she learned with a rapidity that surprised 
 Mrs. Neville. Barbara, with her mother's con 
 sent, had borrowed Helen's copy of Robinson 
 Crusoe. As she finished reading each chapter, she 
 related it to Helen. The longing wish to read as 
 well as Barbara read, gave an additional impulse 
 to Helen's study hours. Helen was naturally im 
 patient, and being very much interested in the 
 story, she used to get quite vexed that Barbara 
 could not find more time for reading. 
 
 Thus it happened one morning, when Barbara 
 came up stairs after breakfast to make the beds, 
 Helen said, 
 
 "I'll make the beds, Barbara, you sit down and 
 read another chapter, so that you can tell it to me 
 before school time." 
 
 "Oh no, I cannot; mother always wishes us to 
 do our own work." 
 
 "To be sure she does, as a general thing, but she 
 would not care for once."
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 129 
 
 "I'm afraid she would," said Barbara, at the 
 same time casting a longing look at the book on 
 the table. 
 
 "How foolish you are, Barbara, standing there; 
 you might have had a chapter half read by this 
 time. I think Mrs. Neville M r ould laugh at the 
 idea of objecting to my making the beds once for 
 you," and Helen began spreading the bed-clothes. 
 
 Barbara, after a little hesitation took up the 
 book, saying to herself, " Doing it only this one 
 morning cannot make much difference." Helen 
 
 * 
 
 finished the work, and then listened to the chapter 
 with delighted interest. But Barbara did not feel 
 at all comfortable. Nevertheless, the next morn 
 ing when Helen, without saying anything, began 
 making the beds, Barbara, not feeling quite so 
 badly as she did the day before, read another chap 
 ter. Ah, when once we give way to the first temp 
 tation, how hard it is to resist the others ! No 
 thing else that Helen could have offered, would 
 have tempted Barbara so much, as an opportunity 
 to read. Barbara would at any time rather read 
 than play. And this was Helen's boasted im 
 provement ! She was not only sinning herself but 
 coaxing another to sin. For disobedience, even in
 
 130 HELEN MACGKREQOR; OR, 
 
 the slightest thing, is breaking God's holy com 
 mandment. 
 
 " Where have you been so long, this morning, 
 Helen?" asked Mrs. Neville, "you have nothing 
 to do up stairs to-day; I have been waiting for 
 you. I wish you would please take this pitcher, 
 and bring me some molasses from the store." 
 
 Helen did not answer ; a burning blush spread 
 over her face. 
 
 "Mother," said Nora, noticing Helen's reluc 
 tance, " Helen has never been to the store; let her 
 wipe these plates, and I will go." 
 
 " I know she has never been," replied her mo 
 ther, " and so I want her to go, and learn the way; 
 for some time, you and Barbara might not be 
 here." 
 
 Still Helen did not move, and Mrs. Neville, 
 who was standing with her back towards her, 
 turned round to look at her. When she saw the 
 young girl's face, she said, 
 
 "Why, what is the matter, Helen?" 
 
 " I do not want to go after molasses." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mrs. Neville with evident 
 surprise. 
 
 "Because," said Helen, stopping short.
 
 CONQTJEST AJSTD SACRIFICE. 131 
 
 "Because is no reason, Helen, why do you not 
 wish to go ?" 
 
 " At home we kept a servant to run errands," 
 answered Helen, proudly. 
 
 Mrs. Neville looked at her ; and there was so 
 much sorrow and compassion in the gaze, that 
 Helen reddened beneath it, and heartily wished 
 she had said nothing. 
 
 "Do you think, Helen, there is anything dis 
 graceful in bringing molasses from the store ?" she 
 asked, at length. 
 
 Helen looked down, and did not answer. 
 
 "Poor foolish child!" continued Mrs. Neville, 
 "you have been imbibing very proud and sinful 
 notions. It is said that once, when Washington 
 was commander-in-chief, a corporal in his army 
 refused to help his men throw up fortifications. 
 He was too proud to do it, because he was a cor 
 poral. Washington hearing of it went to the 
 spot and commenced helping the soldiers, work 
 ing as hard as any of them, until the young cor 
 poral, filled with shame, gladly took his share of 
 the work. Had you been there, Helen, which 
 part would you have acted? Ah, Helen, my 
 child, God give you grace to conquer that foolish
 
 132 HBHiElSr M-A-CGHRJEGOR, ; OR,, 
 
 pride. We never read in the Bible of the Sa 
 viour's pride, although he was Lord of all. No, 
 his earthly life was spent among earth's poorest 
 ones, ministering to their wants. Pray to him for 
 some portion of his lovely humility." 
 
 Helen without saying anything, took down her 
 hat, and went out. She was touched by Mrs. 
 Neville's kindness and forbearance, and ashamed 
 of her own conduct. As she walked through the 
 shady lane, she made up her mind that she would 
 never be so foolish again ; and that, no matter what 
 she had to do, she would do it with pleasure. She 
 walked along, thinking thus, until she was quite 
 persuaded that she had cured herself already. 
 But, alas, for the keeping of such hastily made re 
 solutions ! Helen had not gone far, when whom 
 should she see approaching but Mary Rellini? 
 Mary was dressed very prettily, and a delicate 
 little sunshade was in her hand. In an instant all 
 Helen's brave resolutions were over. Mary Rel- 
 lim had told her that she would have to run 
 errands, and work; and even if it were true, 
 Helen made up her mind that Mary should not 
 know it. What to do with the pitcher was 
 Helen's first thought. There was no time to hide
 
 CONQUEST AOSTD SACRIFICE. 133 
 
 it; Mary might look up any moment, and see 
 her. A field, with a low fence, lay on one side 
 of her, so she dropped the pitcher over as gently 
 as possible, and then sat down to wait Mary's com 
 ing, trying to think how she should account for 
 her presence there, at that time of the morning. 
 But Helen was spared the sin of that deceit, for 
 Mary turned down another road, without seeing 
 her. Helen looked after her with all her former 
 longings. She wished for a hat and feather, and 
 a silk dress, just like those; and with all her old 
 reluctance she turned to find the pitcher. Once 
 over the fence she saw it, but in picking it up 
 only the handle came up in her hand the pitcher 
 was broken! Helen's first thought was one of 
 pleasure that she could not go to the store ; her 
 next was, what would Mrs. Neville say? But 
 Helen had been brought up in too free and care 
 less a manner to have much fear about her ; when, 
 therefore, she entered the kitchen, she answered at 
 once to Mrs. Neville's look of surprise, 
 
 " I broke the pitcher." 
 
 " How did you come to break it ?" asked Mrs. 
 Neville. 
 
 " I threw it down," answered Helen, coloring. 
 12
 
 134 HELETT Mu-VCGKEtEOOR,; OR, 
 
 "Threw it down!" repeated Mrs. Neville, 
 " why, what did you do that for ?" 
 
 But to this question Helen returned no answer. 
 Mrs. Neville asked again and again. But Helen 
 would not tell. She was ashamed of it herself, 
 and that was bad enough to bear; she would not 
 give them the opportunity of thinking her so silly. 
 Mrs. Neville said kindly, but firmly, 
 
 "Helen, I cannot allow disobedience and stub 
 bornness. Go to your room, and do not leave it 
 until you have made up your mind to tell me the 
 whole truth." 
 
 Helen turned with flashing eyes to resist this or 
 der; but there was firmness in Mrs. Neville's 
 face, with all its gentleness, which seemed to say, 
 "I will be obeyed," and Helen left the room. 
 
 Into the balmy breath of the summer air, as it 
 came in at the open window, Helen carried the 
 gloom of her own sinful heart. She threw herself 
 on the floor, and yielded to a burst of tears. This 
 was the first time in her life that she had ever 
 been punished, and with all the might of her 
 haughty spirit she rebelled against it. 
 
 "What right has Mrs. Neville to punish me? 
 I am not her own daughter. I was beginning to
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 135 
 
 love her; now I do not like her at all. To try 
 and make me answer her question, as if I were a 
 little child ! I never will tell, never ! She may keep 
 me here as long as she pleases. No, she cannot 
 keep me here if I do not choose to stay; and I 
 will not stay long. Why should I do what I 
 never had to do at home? Ah, there I was 
 happy. Margaret loved me, and she never made 
 me mind. At Mrs. Rellim's, too, I was happy. 
 Why did I come here, where I am so miserable ? 
 I have never been happy here, never!" 
 
 That was partly true. From the time she had 
 first come to live at Mrs. Neville's, she had not been 
 happy. For she was constantly reminded by the 
 lives of those around her -that she was treading in 
 the wrong path. It broke in upon her self-com 
 placency, and made her discontented. Then she 
 had striven to imitate them, and that only added 
 to her vexation, because she always failed. Pride 
 kept her from seeking counsel of Mrs. Neville, 
 and thus those six weeks had passed away, and been 
 the most unhappy of her life. The young dislike 
 to suffer. They turn from the bitter cup with 
 loathing. But God knows always what is best. 
 The Holy Spirit was striving with her, trying to
 
 136 HEIJBN AiE^CGKREGOIt; OR, 
 
 win her to a Saviour's love; but still she refused. 
 "All deep joy is boru of sorrow." Would Helen 
 one day step from the deep sorrow of repentance 
 to the sweet joy of sins forgiven through a Sa 
 viour's love and mercy? 
 
 The morning hours passed slowly. She thought 
 of the pleasant little study. It was the morning 
 for the French lesson, and she would not be there 
 to laugh at Nora's efforts at pronunciation. Then 
 she wondered if they missed her, and a wish came 
 that she could begin the morning over again, 
 and act differently; banished instantly by the 
 thought that it could not be helped now, and she 
 would not give up. 
 
 Alas ! for misimproved time ! How many of us 
 can look back and long for the return of wasted 
 years, that we might live them better. But tune 
 sweeps by as rapidly as though its hdurs did not 
 mould the immortal life of man. The days have 
 been, and they are not, and they return no more. 
 God grant that no one who reads this narrative, 
 may look back from a dying bed, with a wild 
 longing to recall the years in which he never 
 thought of God, or prepared to meet him ! 
 
 Mrs. Neville brought Helen's dinner up, and
 
 CONQUEST ANT) SACRIFICE:. 137 
 
 asked, kindly, if she was ready to talk with her ; 
 but Helen merely answered, "No, ma'am," and 
 refused to taste anything, and Mrs. Neville went 
 down again, much disappointed. 
 
 The day seemed very long to Helen ; and it was 
 very long to Barbara and Nora also. When play 
 time came, nothing interested them, and Barbara 
 sat down to read, wishing she could go and tell 
 Helen the different interesting things as she came 
 to them. Nora begged several times to go up and 
 coax Helen, but Mrs. Neville would not allow it. 
 The evening was very quiet. Mrs. Neville had 
 gone up with Helen's supper, and returned with 
 the same result. 
 
 When Nora and Barbara went to bed, they 
 listened, but all was quiet in the next room ; for 
 Helen had gone to sleep early. The two girls 
 talked a little about her, and hoped that by to 
 morrow all would be right. Nora whispered a 
 soft good night at Helen's door, jumped into bed, 
 and was soon fast asleep. Barbara read her Bible, 
 and was just going to blow out the candle, when her 
 eye lighted on Robinson Crusoe. She had been 
 reading part of an interesting chapter, and thought 
 
 she would just finish it before she retired. But 
 12*
 
 138 HELEN MA.CGKR.EGOR. 
 
 when that was completed, she must see how the next 
 chapter began. While thus reading she soon forgot 
 everything around her; and when her mother closed 
 a shutter down stairs, preparatory to going to bed, 
 Barbara started as though some one had struck her. 
 She hastily put out the light and jumped into bed, 
 without saying her prayers. When once in bed, she 
 trembled so, she could think of nothing for some 
 time. Barbara knew that her mother never allowed 
 them to sit up at night, and she wondered how 
 she could have disobeyed so easily. She forgot 
 that one little act of deceit opens the door to many 
 larger ones. She had deceived in allowing Helen 
 to do her work, while she read, and having read 
 several times at forbidden hours, it was no wonder 
 that her greatest failing easily conquered her, in 
 stead of her conquering it. Barbara could not 
 sleep. She tossed restlessly about. She heard 
 her mother go to bed, and then all was quiet. 
 Barbara had not felt very comfortable the last few 
 days; she had been acting wrongly, and so her 
 prayers had not been sincere. Her conscience 
 troubled her, and she tried to put it off by promis 
 ing never to do so again. At last, wearied out, 
 she fell into a troubled slumber.
 
 X. 
 
 REPENTANCE. 
 
 "With tears of anguish I lament, 
 
 Here at thy feet, my God, 
 My passion, pride, and discontent, 
 And vile ingratitude." 
 
 IT has always seemed a strange thing to me that 
 people should call daily life tame and monot 
 onous. While the soul wages a constant warfare 
 with the evil around it, while it struggles onward 
 and upward towards a higher existence, while the 
 heart with all its warm affections, is sometimes led 
 astray, even by its most generous impulses, while 
 the mind, with all its heaven endowed intellect 
 can read everywhere the vastness and glory of 
 creation, while life is filled with deep sorrow and 
 agonizing conflicts, and blessed with the sweet 
 touch of joy, there must be, even in the life of the 
 most humble, thoughts, feelings, and struggles, 
 enough to make one day entirely different from 
 another. Day after day, no matter what our out- 
 
 139
 
 140 HELEN MA.CGREGOR; OR, 
 
 
 
 ward life may be, the soul-life changes. Through the 
 petty cares of one day we step at eventide one pace 
 nearer Christian perfection, or one pace farther off. 
 No standing still is possible to the immortal, fight 
 ing each step of his way towards the promised 
 crown. In the face of such a thought, how can 
 daily life become monotonous ? It assumes a fear 
 ful responsibility that should snatch from it every 
 feeling of ennui or careless indifference, that should 
 make us long to improve each hour. For hours 
 are the little rivulets that are bearing us on to the 
 river of death, to be swept out into the great ocean 
 of eternity. 
 
 It was a day of clouded sunshine to both Bar 
 bara and Helen. They awoke with the impression 
 that something had gone wrong. Barbara's head 
 ached, and she felt altogether out of sorts. Mrs. 
 Neville inquired, almost as soon as they came 
 down stairs, if the light was burning in their room 
 when she closed the shutters ; and Nora hastened 
 at once to assure her that it could not have been, 
 as they undressed themselves and made ready for 
 bed at once. Barbara was on the point of confess 
 ing, but she checked herself when she remem 
 bered that very probably her mother, as a punish-
 
 CONQUEST A-ISTD SAORIB^ICE. 141 
 
 ment, would not let her finish the book. This de 
 cided her. She could not bear the idea of giving 
 up the story without knowing how it ended. 
 But poor Barbara spent a miserable morning. 
 When her mother at family worship prayed so 
 earnestly for the sinful Helen, Barbara thought 
 she must tell at once, and not act a falsehood any 
 longer. After breakfast she looked so miserable, 
 and her head really ached so badly, that her 
 mother sent her up stairs to lie down. Nora 
 darkened the room, and brought the cologne ; and 
 was so pitiful and kind that Barbara could hardly 
 bear it. 
 
 As for Helen, nothing like sorrow filled her 
 heart. Her anger and indignation only increased. 
 From thinking her lot hard, she had come to 
 believe it the worst that possibly could be, and 
 herself the most ill-treated girl. She looked out 
 at the bright sunshine ; and the song of birds, the 
 lowing of cattle, the drowsy insect hum, the rust 
 ling leaves, and murmuring brooks, all seemed to 
 be calling her to come forth. It was a hard punish 
 ment to have to stay in the house such a lovely 
 day. Helen determined that she would endure it 
 no longer. She had heard the clock strike nine,
 
 142 HELEN MACGKREGOR ; OR, 
 
 and she knew they must all be in the study ; so 
 opening and closing her door gently, and slipping 
 quietly down stairs, she ran off into the woods. 
 When once there, she thought she would enjoy 
 herself. She believed that the reason she had felt 
 so badly was because she was shut up in one room ; 
 but she soon found that all the beauty of nature 
 
 * 
 
 had no power to " minister to a mind diseased." 
 She walked round to find something amusing, but 
 nothing pleased her ; and throwing herself down 
 on the ground she gave herself up to the thoughts 
 she could not banish. One thing she made up 
 her mind to, as she was idly pulling a flower to 
 pieces, that she would not go back to Mrs. Ne 
 ville's. 
 
 "No," said Helen, speaking to herself, as she 
 was in the habit of doing, " why should I go back 
 there, to be scolded and punished, and worried all 
 the time about religion, and frightened about 
 dying? Dying! "When I am only fourteen, 
 and Old Dugald said 'my cheek was like the 
 summer's rose !' Mr. Ashton used to say, * God 
 orders all things,' and Mrs. Neville has told me 
 many times, that God must have taken me from 
 Mrs. Eellim's for some wise purpose. But I will
 
 CONQUEST AISTD SACRIITICE. 143 
 
 not believe it. If God is a God of love, as they 
 say he is, he would not give us trouble and sorrow. 
 I will go back to Mrs. Rellim's, and stay until 
 my father sends for me. She told me to stay 
 months, if I wished, and I was foolish to leave so 
 soon. It cannot be long before I once more go 
 home, home to dear Scotland. By her bonny 
 braes I may linger the day long with none to 
 chide." 
 
 Thus Helen's thoughts ran on, and an hour 
 passed in idle dreaming, when she was roused by 
 hasty footsteps, and saw John Rellim coming to 
 wards her. Helen got up quickly, and put her 
 self on her guard against any of his mischief. But 
 no fun sparkled in John's eye; he merely said, 
 "Good morning," and was hastening on, when 
 Helen stopped him with the question, 
 
 "What are you in such a hurry for, John?" 
 
 John turned towards her for a minute, and Helen 
 was startled to see how pale he was, and to notice 
 the tears in his eyes. He did not seem at all like 
 mischievous John Rellim, as he said, 
 
 "O Helen, I'm going for the doctor. All the 
 children have the diphtheria, and Gussie died this 
 morning," and John ran on without waiting for
 
 144 HELEN MACGKREGOR; OR, 
 
 her sympathy; and indeed Helen would have 
 given him none. Never in her life had she re 
 ceived such a shock; and coming at such a time, 
 when anger and pride and rebellion were reigning 
 hi her heart! She had laughed at the idea of dy 
 ing, because she was so young and healthy; and 
 there, at that moment, death had taken one younger, 
 and full as blooming as she. She had said in all 
 the pride of her heart, that she would go back to 
 that house from which God had seen best to take 
 her. Struck with a remorse which could not find 
 vent in words, she threw herself on the ground, 
 with a passionate cry for forgiveness. To Helen, 
 in her overwrought state, it seemed as though God 
 had purposely taken her away to save her, and she 
 had been resisting with all her power his tender 
 love and care. Oh, how weak, and pitiful, and 
 unworthy seemed her anger and pride now, in the 
 presence of death. 
 
 What matter where we live, or how, if death 
 find us ready for the Master's call? In order fully 
 to appreciate Helen's feelings, we must remember 
 the state of mind she had been in. She had 
 thought to be, and to do, everything good by her 
 own efforts, and failing in this, she had defiantly
 
 CONQUEST AISTD SACRIFICE. 145 
 
 said to herself that to the lot that was given 
 her she would never submit. She had deter 
 mined to brave all things. Even when told that 
 God's hand would guide, she had refused that 
 guidance. And it seemed to her in those fright 
 ful moments as she lay there on the ground, that 
 God would do well to strike her dead also. She 
 had refused the winning counsels of his pure re 
 ligion ; she had resisted the influence of his Holy 
 Spirit ; and yet he had not given her up, but had 
 sent a thrilling warning to meet her in all her wil- 
 fulness and pride. She wept with a sorrow as wild 
 as her gratitude was deep. The life of the last 
 few weeks passed before her, stained with its 
 self-righteousness, anger, and neglected duty; and 
 Helen felt humbled to the very dust. She remem 
 bered Mrs. Neville's earnest prayers that they 
 might be a united Christian family, having one 
 faith, one Saviour ; and how she, in secret, had re 
 sented thus being prayed about! Ah, she remem 
 bered everything but too keenly, down to that very 
 morning when she had left her home in anger and 
 stubbornness, determined to return no more. Her 
 heart yearned for reconciliation. She longed to 
 
 hear Mrs. Neville's voice whisper peace and coin- 
 is K
 
 146 HELEN M^CGKREGOR; OR,, 
 
 fort. Helen never did anything by halves. If 
 her stubbornness and anger had been deep and 
 lasting, so also was her repentance. She deter 
 mined to go back at once and confess all. 
 
 Nora had begun her lessons that morning, 
 but her mind was so evidently distracted between 
 Barbara's illness and Helen's punishment, that 
 Mrs. Neville soon closed the book, and told her to 
 bring her sewing. 
 
 They sat quietly sewing in the study ; neithei 
 had spoken for some time, for Mrs. Neville was 
 anxious and worried about Helen, and meditating 
 some new way of winning her over. The after 
 noon before, she had spent much time in earnest 
 prayer for this wandering girl; and then she had 
 gone to her and striven to show her her sin, and 
 the love and mercy of her Saviour. She had 
 prayed with her, but Helen only seemed to grow 
 more hardened ; and this morning Mrs. Neville's 
 heart failed her. She had gone for strength and 
 guidance to the only source whence they can come, 
 but notwithstanding this she felt sad and disap 
 pointed. She knew the fearful responsibility of 
 training up a girl of Helen's disposition, and she
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 147 
 
 longed to see her safe in the arms of a true faith 
 one of Christ's lambs. 
 
 As the door opened and Helen entered, Mrs. 
 Neville, supposing her to have just come from her 
 own room, almost started with joy. She had been 
 desponding, and God had reproved her thus. 
 Helen entered the room with a slow step and 
 downcast eye ; but when she got near Mrs. Ne 
 ville, she threw herself on her knees, and clasping 
 her round the waist, she exclaimed, 
 
 " Oh, forgive me, forgive me ! I have been so 
 wicked," and then bursting into tears, she laid her 
 head in her kind friend's lap. 
 
 " Dear Helen," said Mrs. Neville, putting her 
 hand on the young girl's bowed head, "we all err, 
 and go astray like lost sheep. Thankful should 
 we be when our Father shows us our error, and 
 leads us through the path of repentance to lasting 
 peace." 
 
 "Oh, you do not know how wicked I have 
 been ; I ran away this morning !" 
 
 Mrs. Neville could not repress a slight start on 
 hearing this, and Nora rose to leave the room. 
 
 " Do not go, Nora," said Helen sadly, " I wish 
 you to know just how wicked I have been. I
 
 148 HELEIST IvrACG-ItEG-OR.; OR,. 
 
 feel as though it would do me good to tell every 
 one of my foolish pride." 
 
 Nora sat down very reluctantly. It pained her 
 to hear Helen's confession ; for Nora was apt to 
 place those she loved on a pinnacle of goodness, 
 and refused to believe in her own heart that they 
 could go wrong. Helen was so pretty, so lively, 
 so kind, that Nora had considered her almost per 
 fect, and had welcomed her admission to the 
 family with unbounded joy. But day after day 
 Nora had been obliged to make excuses to herself 
 for Helen's conduct, and both she and Barbara 
 had found that everything was not so delightful as 
 they had anticipated. But this was the crowning 
 point of Nora's sorrow, that Helen should act so 
 stubbornly towards their darling mother ; and she 
 longed to escape without hearing all the sad story. 
 But as this was impossible, she took her seat once 
 more, and her tears mingled with Helen's, as the 
 sorrowful confession was made. 
 
 Helen told all unreservedly, with many a deep 
 blush and irrepressible sob, from the breaking of 
 the pitcher, to the meeting of John Rellim in the 
 woods. Helen's character had this redeeming 
 trait, that when once convinced of wrong, she
 
 CONQUEST AKTD SA-CRIITTCE. 149 
 
 never sought to excuse, or palliate her fault, but 
 blamed and reproached herself even more than 
 others did. Mrs. Neville understood better than 
 Helen could tell her, how the shock of Augusta's 
 death, meeting her as it did while filled with re 
 bellious feelings towards Go& had showed Helen 
 her sins in such a startling light that it made her 
 almost despair. But in all this Mrs. Neville re 
 cognized the hand of God. It pleases him to 
 allow some of his lambs to go through green pas 
 tures into the sweet valley of eternal peace ; but 
 others must first bruise themselves among the 
 sharp rocks of sorrow, or be almost lost in the 
 quicksands of worldliness and pride, ere they are 
 caught up into the arms of Divine love, and shel 
 tered safe from all harm in the fold of a Saviour's 
 bosom. 
 
 Very gently Mrs. Neville talked to the young 
 girl. She assured her of her forgiveness, and then 
 besought her to turn for pardon and peace to the 
 Saviour. But to all Mrs. Neville's entreaties, 
 Helen had but one cry, 
 
 " Oh, dear Mrs. Neville, you do not know how 
 wicked I have been, not only now, but always. 
 How can I ask Jesus to forgive me, and save me, 
 
 13 *
 
 150 HELEJST IVTA-CGKREGOIt ; OR, 
 
 when only this morning I said I did not love him, 
 and I would not try to do right." 
 
 "Ah, well then, Helen," said Mrs. Neville 
 sadly, " I am to understand that you never intend 
 to come to the Saviour. You always wish to live 
 on in this way, without his love and help." 
 
 " Oh, no, ma'am," answered Helen, very much 
 startled, " I do indeed long to be a Christian, I 
 will go to him as soon as I have learned to behave 
 better." 
 
 "My dear girl, you will never learn to behave 
 better, without his help. Human nature, unas 
 sisted by the Divine, must always stray from the 
 narrow path. You remember Jesus said, f I came 
 not to call the righteous, but sinners to repent 
 ance.' If you could learn to be good yourself, 
 what would be the use of a Saviour ? Just as you 
 are, dear Helen, go to him, tell him all your sins, 
 confess all your wicked thoughts, ask him to have 
 mercy on you, and to forgive you, to teach you 
 daily and hourly how best to govern yourself, and 
 to love and serve him. Will you do it, Helen, 
 dear?" 
 
 Helen looked up eagerly, into Mrs. Neville's 
 face.
 
 CONQUEST A.TXT) SACRIFICE. 151 
 
 "Are you sure; are you quite sure, he will 
 hear and forgive ?" she asked passionately. 
 
 " I am sure," answered Mrs. Neville solemnly. 
 "Do you think, Helen, when the Saviour was 
 willing to come here to earth, and die on the cruel 
 cross ; willing to suffer and bear all he did, on pur 
 pose to save you; do you think when he finds you 
 turning to him with a prayer to be forgiven and 
 saved, that he will turn you away? Why, my 
 child, if he did not wish you to live with him for 
 ever in glory, why did he come here and die? 
 No, Helen ; such love could never turn away from 
 a supplicant." 
 
 " No, never," said the girl ; " I believe it, I be 
 lieve it. Pray for me." 
 
 Mrs. Neville prayed, and when the prayer was 
 finished, Helen rose, and quietly kissing Mrs. 
 Neville and Nora, went up to her own room. 
 Very different were her feelings on entering it, 
 from the rebellious ones with which she had left 
 it. Now Helen knelt by the little bed and 
 breathed forth her first real prayer, a confession 
 of sins, a cry for forgiveness, and an earnest asking 
 for God's Holy Spirit to guide and direct her. 
 This was the beginning of Helen's Christian life.
 
 152 HELEN jyT-A-CGHtEGrOR; OR, 
 
 With many a tearful struggle, many a slippery 
 footstep, she trod onward in the narrow way; but 
 she felt there was ever a Saviour's hand to guide 
 and help, ever a divine compassion to forgive. 
 And if, in after years, she learned to walk with a 
 surer step, and firmer faith, she still looked back 
 with grateful thankfulness to the hours of sorrow 
 in Brookfield, which were the starting point in her 
 Christian career. 
 
 Helen did not leave her room that day, except 
 to eat her dinner; she wished to stay alone and 
 think. Mrs. Neville went at once to Mrs. Rel- 
 lim's to offer her services. Animosities die under 
 the hand of deep sorrow. Mrs. Rellim gladly ac 
 cepted Mrs. Neville's aid, and she did not come 
 home until late. Barbara's head still ached ; and 
 Nora felt disconsolate as she wandered around the 
 empty house. She could not go to Helen, and she 
 did not like to disturb Barbara. She read a little 
 while, but Nora was not much of a reader, and 
 she soon laid down the book to think of little Gus- 
 sie, who was lying so cold and still in the stately 
 bed chamber. 
 
 After a while Nora put on the tea kettle, toasted 
 a nice slice of toast, and took it, with a cup of tea,
 
 CO3STQUEST AISTD SACRIFICE. 153 
 
 up to Barbara. But Barbara refused to eat, and 
 Nora thought she would not trouble her by telling 
 her of Gussie's death, as she had intended to do. 
 Nora then got supper ready, and called Helen, 
 and they ate alone, as Mrs. Neville had told them 
 not to wait for her. At any other time it would 
 have been grand fun for Helen and Nora to eat 
 alone, and for Nora to sit at the head of the table 
 and pour out ; but now they both felt too sad to 
 give anything more than a passing smile. Helen 
 inquired where Barbara was ; and then the conver 
 sation turned on the loving qualities of the dead 
 child. Helen after supper helped Nora wash -the 
 dishes, and they both sat down on the porch 
 to watch the glowing sunset, and to await Mrs. 
 Neville's return ; talking in sweet, girlish voices of 
 life's responsibilities, of death's dark shadow, and of 
 the bright life beyond, Nora's fervent faith whis 
 pering the sublime promises of the Bible to cheer 
 the timid heart of her companion. 
 
 Thus they sat, twined in each other's arms, until 
 the stars came out and looked down on that picture 
 of bright, youthful loveliness a picture of beau 
 tiful young life dedicating its freshest, purest pos 
 sessions and powers to the -service of its Maker.
 
 XI. 
 
 BARBARA'S CONFESSION. 
 
 " I bar thee not from faults : 
 
 God wot it were in vain ! 
 Inalienable heritage 
 
 Since that primeval stain ! 
 The wisest have been fools, 
 
 The surest stumbled sore, 
 Strive thou to stand or fall'n to rise, 
 
 I ask thee not for more !" 
 
 THE next morning school duties recommenced 
 as usual. No, not quite as usual; for Helen, 
 although feeling happier than she had done for 
 some time, could not shake off the idea of the re 
 sponsibility of life which she had realized the day 
 before for the first time. She had prayed that 
 morning for strength and guidance, but the mem 
 ory of a recent sorrow still left her smile sad and 
 her spirit pained. Barbara said her head was 
 better, but she looked so pale, and looked so little 
 like her usual self, that Mrs. Neville was quite 
 troubled; but Barbara insisted so urgently on do- 
 
 154
 
 CONQUEST A.1ST> SACRIFICE. 155 
 
 ing her work and learning her lessons, that Mrs. 
 Neville consented. 
 
 Poor Barbara wished to forget her wrong doing. 
 Unaccustomed to conceal the truth in the slightest 
 thing, the deception she had practiced about the 
 book worried her almost beyond endurance. But 
 she could not make up her mind to confess. Nora 
 had always such a habit of saying, " Oh, Barbara 
 dear, I wish I was like you, you never do any 
 thing wrong," that Barbara now could not bear the 
 idea of Nora's knowing how she had acted. And 
 then, too, her mother must know it, and Helen. 
 Barbara's thoughts were ever on the subject, 
 whether she had before her a geography or an 
 arithmetic, and she made so many mistakes in her 
 music lesson, that Mrs. Neville kindly closed the 
 piano and told her to wait until to-morrow. 
 
 Thus passed the morning. As soon as dinner 
 was over Mrs. Neville went to Mrs. Rellim's and 
 left the girls during the study and sewing hours. 
 When playtime came, at four o'clock, Barbara 
 went and lay down on the lounge in the dining- 
 room. Nora and Helen agreed not to go out, but 
 to sit there and keep her company. 
 
 "Dear sister," said Nora, leaning fondly over
 
 156 HELEN 3VtA.CGR,E&OK.; OR, 
 
 the end of the lounge, "I am so sorry you cannot 
 come out and play and enjoy yourself." 
 
 "Don't worry me, Nora," said Barbara, pushing 
 away Nora's hand from her head. 
 
 " No, I won't," said Nora, leaving the lounge ; 
 "does talking trouble you, sister?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Nora looked quite relieved. She tried to think 
 of something pleasant to say; and knowing Bar 
 bara's love of books, she asked, 
 
 "How do you like Robinson Crusoe?" 
 
 She could not have hit on a more disagreeable 
 subject. Barbara answered peevishly, 
 
 "Do stop asking me that every few minutes, 
 Nora?" 
 
 Nora looked surprised. 
 
 "I only meant it kindly. How your head must 
 ache to make you speak so. Mother says I may 
 read it when you have finished it, if I don't blot 
 my copy book for two weeks." 
 
 Barbara made no reply, and Helen just then 
 coming into the room, she turned towards her, and 
 said, 
 
 "I wish, Helen, you would take a walk in the 
 garden with me."
 
 CONQUEST A.HTD SACRIFICE. 157 
 
 "Yes, Barbara, if you wish it," said Helen, 
 looking surprised. They went out, and Nora, 
 laying her head on the lounge, cried quietly. 
 Barbara had preferred Helen to her. While Nora 
 was thus mourning over her sister's strange cool 
 ness, Barbara had determined to confide in Helen. 
 She knew nothing of yesterday's proceedings; but 
 she knew that Helen must have confessed, or she 
 would not have been out of her room. Helen had 
 not spoken of her influencing Barbara to read in 
 stead of first finishing her work, for she did not 
 wish to involve Barbara, but it had worried her a 
 great deal all the morning, and she suspected that 
 that was in reality what ailed Barbara. She did 
 not like to mention the subject first, and they 
 walked almost to the end of the garden before 
 Barbara spoke. 
 
 "Helen, I am very unhappy, I disobeyed mother 
 so about that book; and I have kept it secret so 
 long" 
 
 "It was all my fault, Barbara. I have been 
 worried about it all this morning. I was going to 
 ask you to let me tell." 
 
 Barbara looked astonished. She had expected 
 Helen would try and persuade her that she had 
 
 14
 
 158 HELEN JVT.A.COREGK3R; OR, 
 
 done nothing wrong, and although she knew it 
 would not be true, yet still it would be some con 
 solation to hear it. Helen noticed her look, and 
 said sadly, 
 
 "I don't wonder you look surprised to hear me 
 give such advice; but oh, Barbara, my eyes were 
 first opened yesterday to regard my conduct in its 
 true light, as very sinful and hateful in God's 
 sight. Ah, if he will only help me, I will try and 
 lead a better life. I say, if; I know he will help 
 me. I felt it this morning when I said my 
 prayers." 
 
 Barbara was much surprised ; and not only sur 
 prised, but pleased, for although she had yielded 
 to temptation, she was in heart a Christian, and 
 she rejoiced to think that Helen was trying to 
 walk in the true path. She put her arms around 
 her, and fondly kissing her, said, 
 
 "I am very glad to hear it, dear Helen ; now 
 we are all three sisters indeed." 
 
 " Sisters forever," said Helen, returning the em 
 brace, " and now, Barbara, tell your mother every 
 thing, when she comes home to night. Do, please, 
 promise." 
 
 Barbara stood irresolute.
 
 .AJSTD SACRIFICE. 159 
 
 " Never mind," said Helen, generously, " I will 
 tell." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, I must do it ; mother would be 
 still more sorry to find me such a coward." 
 
 " You will do it then, Barbara, my sister, will 
 you not ?" said Helen coaxingly. Barbara prom 
 ised that she would. 
 
 Let none of my readers be surprised that Helen 
 should, on the first occasion, act with a conscien 
 tiousness and openness, which bespoke a long 
 practice in Christian warfare, instead of the expe 
 rience of a few hours. It is very seldom that the 
 young disciple yields to the first temptation. In 
 the first glow of love and hope, we are strong. It 
 is when weeks have passed away, and something 
 of our first ardor has abated, that we become less 
 watchful, and fall into sin. Besides, the memory 
 of her own unhappiness was too fresh in Helen's 
 mind not to make her wish to guard another 
 against it. Then, too, Helen wished to confess 
 her own share in Barbara's unhappy fall. As I 
 have said before, she never did anything by halves. 
 Deep and true had been her repentance, and she 
 therefore wished to confess all. Helen knew that 
 her faults were not conquered, that they were only
 
 160 HELEN" IVEACGHEtEOOR,; OR, 
 
 sleeping. She knew that they must be met and 
 subdued by the help of her Saviour, day by day, 
 as temptation revealed them. Yet she longed 
 now, at once, to do all in her power ; and she felt 
 that all would not be done until she had told of 
 her deceitfulness. 
 
 " How lonely Nora must be," said Helen, after 
 they had talked a while longer, " shall I call 
 her?" 
 
 "No, I'll go call her. Poor child, I wonder 
 how I could have spoken so crossly to her." 
 
 "There she is," said Helen; and they both 
 went towards her. Nora stooped very low over a 
 lovely white rose, that they might not see the 
 traces of tears on her face. 
 
 " Is it not beautiful ?" she asked, as they came 
 up, " I am going to take these two buds to-morrow, 
 to lay in Gussie's coffin." 
 
 " Most lovely," said Helen, stooping down to 
 smell it. 
 
 Barbara stooped also, but it was to kiss Nora's 
 rosy cheek. Nora looked around smiling. 
 
 "Yes," said Barbara, " I am trying to kiss away 
 the memory of those cross words I said." 
 
 "Never mind," said Nora, returning the kiss,
 
 " Oh, Helen ! how could you get up there." p. 178.
 
 CONQUEST -A-ND SA-CRHPICJE. 161 
 
 " you had a headache, and that sometimes puts one 
 out of humor." 
 
 " No, no, it was not that, Nora ; I have been 
 acting very wrongly, and it has worried me, and 
 made me cross." 
 
 " It was my fault," interrupted Helen, and she 
 narrated the circumstances, generously trying to 
 shield Barbara; but Nora could not help looking 
 shocked when she heard that her sister had actually 
 sat up that night, and kept the lamp burning. 
 This was a great trial to Barbara, but it gave her, 
 what she had not had before, a clear idea of how 
 deeply she had sinned, and how guilty she must 
 appear in the sight of God ; and leaving her young 
 companions abruptly she went up to her own 
 room to ask with truly penitent tears, for forgive 
 ness and for strength to do better. But if Barbara 
 felt badly then, she felt much worse when she 
 saw her mother's grieved and surprised look. In 
 deed Mrs. Neville could scarcely believe that Bar 
 bara would act so, she had always trusted her so 
 fully. Then, in words which Barbara felt she 
 could never forget, Mrs. Neville pointed out to 
 her the danger of yielding to the first little omis 
 sion of duty. 
 
 14 * L
 
 162 HELEN M-A-CGKREOOR,; OR, 
 
 " And to think, my daughter," she continued, 
 "of the dreadful responsibility of your influence. 
 You have come out before the world as the Lord's 
 child; you have promised to follow in the Sa 
 viour's footsteps, and to do all in your power to 
 forward his cause ; and yet, look at the stumbling- 
 block you were placing in Helen's way. What 
 do you suppose Helen must have thought of a re 
 ligion whose professors were influenced so easily 
 to go astray ? How could you have hoped to win 
 Helen to Christ, after first leading her to practice 
 deceit?" 
 
 " Indeed, mother, I never thought of it in that 
 dreadful light." 
 
 "I believe you did not, my child; but you 
 must remember, when you do wrong, you can 
 never tell how far the influence of that wrong ex 
 tends. It is a fearful thought that perhaps some 
 slight fault of ours may keep another from seek 
 ing Christ." 
 
 With these solemn words, Mrs. Neville left her. 
 Barbara had never before in her life, felt as she 
 then did the great responsibility of being a 
 Christian. She saw, for the first time, that the 
 honor of the church and the glorifying of Christ,
 
 CONQUEST -A.3STD SACRIFICE. 163 
 
 were entrusted to each Christian; that as he 
 behaves, the world will judge of the Master he 
 professes to follow. Oh, if any of my young 
 readers have taken upon themselves the sacred 
 name of Christian, if they have come out before the 
 world and promised to be on the Lord's side, let 
 them pause here, and ask themselves the solemn 
 question, "Am I honoring the cause of Christ? 
 Will those around me learn to love religion, from 
 seeing the way it influences my life ? Do I show, 
 by each daily word, and act, that Christ is to me 
 above all else?" If you cannot answer these 
 questions satisfactorily, then stop, and begin anew. 
 Ask help of Jesus, that your life may grow into a 
 more perfect Christian life, that others " may see 
 your good works, and glorify your Father which 
 is in heaven." 
 
 The next day the funeral took place. Very 
 calm and sweet the little face looked lying on its 
 last pillow. Nora laid the white rose buds gently 
 on the waxen hand, and Helen sobbed aloud. 
 Gussie had been so kind to her in the short time 
 she had been with her, that she had learned to love 
 her. Helen remembered, too, that Gussie was the 
 only one who had regretted parting with her.
 
 164 HELEN 
 
 No one stood at the grave but the stricken 
 mother and a few friends, for Mr. Rellim was a 
 sea captain, and not at home, and the children 
 were all sick. How did Mrs. Rellim feel ? God 
 alone knew in that solemn hour, whether she 
 heeded the warning. To a mother, giving her 
 child back to him who gave it, it is a bitter trial, 
 even when a Saviour's pitying love comforts and 
 assures the bereaved one of a blest reunion. But 
 to a mother standing at the grave of her little one 
 with no faith in God, no hope of a future bliss, 
 no comfort in a Saviour's tenderness, wild and bit 
 ter indeed must be that parting. To the sublime 
 promises that form such a precious part of the bu 
 rial service, Mrs. Rellim could not listen, and she 
 turned from the grave with a shudder, to go home 
 and strive with all of human power to save her 
 other children. And if they were saved, would 
 she so bring them up that they might one day go 
 and meet their sister ? . 
 
 God pity the mother whose darlings he takes to 
 heaven, while she stands far away and looks up 
 with straining eyes towards their bright home, in 
 which she has no share !
 
 XII. 
 
 
 
 SfJt. tfELSOlf'S FAJtH. 
 
 " Play on, play on, I am with you there, 
 
 In the midst of your merry ring ; 
 I can feel the thrill of the daring jump, 
 
 And the rush of the breathless swing. 
 I hide with you in the fragrant hay, 
 
 And I whoop the smothered call, 
 And my feet slip up on the seedy floor, 
 
 And I care not for the fall." 
 
 Oj EVERAL weeks had gone by, and things were 
 r^-J wearing a cheerful aspect in the cottage. It 
 was August, and that month was always a holiday 
 month at Mrs. Neville's, as she considered it too 
 warm to keep the children in the school-room. 
 Those weeks had brought many trials for Helen. 
 Her eye would flash with anger at a slight reproof, 
 or she would indolently waste her time; and only 
 gradually was she learning that Christianity must 
 mould one's every day life. No answer had been 
 received to Mrs. Neville's letter, and she had writ- 
 
 165
 
 166 HELEN MA-CGKREGOR, ; OR, 
 
 ten another, although Helen's longing wish to go 
 home was fast vanishing. 
 
 One morning while Nora and Barbara were 
 dressing, Helen ran into the room exclaiming, 
 
 "Oh, girls, I have been thinking of such a splen 
 did thing, a pic-nic !" 
 
 "A pic-nic?" they both said at once. 
 
 "Yes, why not?" said Helen, "we could take 
 our dinners, and go to the woods, and stay all 
 day." 
 
 "Oh, that would be splendid," said Nora, clap 
 ping her hands, "but who all would go?" 
 
 "Why our sewing circle, of course." 
 
 "I think mother would not object," said Bar 
 bara. 
 
 "No indeed," answered Helen, as having fin 
 ished dressing, she sat down on the bed; "just 
 think of staying all day, and eating our dinners 
 off the ground." 
 
 "I hope the ground will be cleaner than usual," 
 said Barbara, laughing. 
 
 "Well now, Barbara," said Helen, joining in 
 the laugh, "you ought not to run down the ground 
 that way, for you would be in a pretty fix without 
 it."
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 167 
 
 "I'm afraid she would," said Nora, "but I 
 think we'll be in a hungry fix after a while, if we 
 don't get breakfast." 
 
 "Oh, sure enough," said Helen, "I really don't 
 believe the table will set itself if I stay here. Ah, 
 Nora, as they say in Scotland, ' ye have the lang 
 head/ " and Helen ran down stairs, and set the 
 table with so many extra flourishes of fun that 
 Mrs. Neville was induced to inquire what was the 
 matter. Then out came the account of the pic-nic, 
 in which Nora and Barbara joined when they came 
 down. Mrs. Neville said she had no objections, 
 but that the arrangements could not be made in a 
 day, as the children seemed to think. Unexpected 
 help, however, came in to favor the girls. 
 
 Mr. Nelson, Mrs. Neville's landlord, was a fre 
 quent visitor at the cottage. Many people won 
 dered what attraction drew the polished, wealthy 
 bachelor to that unpretending home. It was al 
 though Mr. Nelson would not have acknowledged 
 it to himself the charm of true piety. Mr. Nel 
 son had been unfortunate in his dealings with his 
 fellow-men, and because he had met with some 
 bearing the name of Christian who did not act up 
 to the high principles they professed, he made light
 
 168 HELEN MACGKREGOR; OR, 
 
 of religion and its professors. He had tried the 
 world, but the upright honor and the pure mo 
 rality he expected to find, he did not, and he 
 turned from all mankind with something of a 
 misanthrope's feelings. Much of this was owing 
 to the manner in which he had been educated. 
 His father, made a widower by the birth of this 
 only child, had brought him up to an almost 
 purely intellectual life. Howard Nelson's world 
 had been his books. From the heroes of an 
 tiquity, from the wild chivalry of the middle ages, 
 he had at his father's death stepped out into real 
 life, when he was twenty-five, expecting to find 
 men the realization of what history paints them. 
 It was no wonder, then, that he was a disappointed 
 man. The only firm principles, the only pure, un 
 sullied faith to be found on earth he rejected when 
 he refused the religion of Christ. He gave 
 up society, and settled in Brookfield. Here he 
 once met little Nora Neville. Her gay, frank, yet 
 modest manners pleased him ; and finding that she 
 was the daughter of an old . friend, and lived in 
 one of his cottages, with the strange whims that 
 we sometimes take, he called at the house. No ; 
 I do wrong to call it a whim. God alone knows
 
 CO1STQTJEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 169 
 
 how often he causes these seeming chances to work 
 us some eternal good. All that Mr. Nelson saw 
 in his frequent visits, led him to recognize the pure 
 faith and true piety of which he had fondly 
 dreamed, yet never before had realized. This was 
 the charm, though unconfessed, that drew him so 
 often to the pretty cottage. 
 
 Helen, with Nora's large apron on, was kneel 
 ing in the yard, scouring the knives, as Mr. Nelson 
 came up the gravel path, and walked round to the 
 kitchen door with the familiarity of an old friend. 
 Helen had never seen him before, for he had been 
 for some time absent from home on business. Mr. 
 Nelson looked at her with some surprise, and when 
 he went in inquired who she was. He had come 
 up to invite Barbara and Nora to go and spend 
 the next day at his farm, about half a mile below 
 Brookfield ; now, of course, he included Helen 
 also. He only staid a few minutes, setting an 
 early hour the next morning to call for them. 
 
 The girls were almost wild with delight ; Nora 
 ran out to tell Helen, and rolled her over and over 
 in the grass until she cried out for her to stop. 
 
 "It will just do instead of our pic-nic," said 
 Helen. 
 
 15
 
 170 HELEN M^VCG-REGOR,; OR, 
 
 " Oh, a great deal better, Helen, for he has such 
 a splendid place, and so many fine things." 
 
 The rest of the day seemed to pass very slowly, 
 even to Barbara, who could usually console herself 
 for any delay with a nice book. But all days 
 must come to an end; and the girls very readily 
 acquiesced in Mrs. Neville's proposal that they 
 should retire half an hour earlier than usual, to 
 prepare for the extra exertion of the morrow. 
 And when the morrow came, three pairs of eyes 
 glanced eagerly out of the window, as soon as they 
 were open. Yes, there was the sun just beginning 
 to rise above the horizon. In a few seconds he 
 came up with a splendor that quite satisfied even 
 youthful expectations. 
 
 Everything was still bathed in the lovely fresh 
 ness of morning, as the carriage rolled away from 
 the door, and the girls kissed their hands in a 
 merry good-bye to Mrs. Neville. To be sure, the 
 distance was not great; they could easily have 
 walked it; but Mr. Nelson was bent on giving 
 them as much pleasure as possible ; therefore he 
 called in his carriage, and they drove round two 
 or three miles, before they brought up at the farm 
 house. This was a large stone building with
 
 CONQUEST AJSTD SACRIFICE. 171 
 
 barns, out-houses, pig-pens, a splendid dairy, and 
 spring-house. Mr. Nelson understood well how 
 to please young folks ; so, soon as the girls alighted, 
 he said, 
 
 "Now, scamper; there is the barn to hunt eggs 
 in, and down there is the spring-house, and be 
 yond is the woods. Just run wild ; but when you 
 hear the dinner horn, come back here to the 
 house." 
 
 No second bidding was needed. They certainly 
 did run wild. The great barn re-echoed their 
 racing footsteps, and the deep woods their laughter. 
 They took off their shoes and stockings, and 
 w r aded ankle deep in the little brook. They picked 
 the wild flowers, and chased the butterflies ; and 
 when at twelve o'clock the dinner horn sounded, 
 they could scarcely believe it possible that the day 
 was so far advanced. But when they got back to 
 the house, a pleasant surprise awaited them. Mr. 
 Nelson's own house and grounds adjoined his farm. 
 They had passed it coming down, but it stood so 
 far back from the road, and was so shut in by 
 trees, that Helen had not noticed it. A servant 
 conducted them to the end of the farm grounds, 
 and opening a small gate, they entered what seemed
 
 172 HELEIST MA-CGKREOOIt; OR, 
 
 to them almost a fairy scene. Here were woods 
 so beautifully laid out and so dense, that as they 
 entered it appeared like the approach of twilight, 
 instead of noontide. Through the centre ran % 
 small stream, with many a tiny cataract, and 
 spanned by rustic bridges. 
 
 " How delightful ! How lovely !" exclaimed 
 Nora and Barbara. But fielen said nothing. 
 Almost breathless, she was looking at the beauty 
 around her. Her love of nature was too deep, her 
 appreciation too keen, for words. And there, in 
 this cool, lovely place, they were to dine. Here 
 was spread a round table just for the three ; and 
 the exercise of the morning was not calculated to 
 diminish their enjoyment of the chicken, custards, 
 peaches, and iced milk set before them. The meal 
 was certainly well digested if laughing has any 
 thing to do with it ; for they were so upside down 
 with the novelty of waiting on themselves, and of 
 being the only ones at the table, that Nora helped 
 Helen twice to potatoes, before she began to 
 eat, and Helen put a spoonful of gravy in Bar 
 bara's tumbler of milk, and so Barbara was obliged 
 to drink out of Nora's glass. 
 
 When dinner was over Mr. Nelson made his
 
 CONQUEST AISTD SAORIIPICE. 173 
 
 appearance, and they wandered over the beautiful 
 grounds together. Such lovely flowers, such fine 
 trees, oh, how beautiful, how enchanting ! Helen 
 found herself indulging in her old dreams, and a 
 rebellious wish arose that she might be rich, and 
 enjoy such delightful things. But she already 
 understood that what is God's will should be ours 
 also. She did not yield to the discontent creeping 
 over her, but lifting from her heart a prayer for 
 contentment, gave herself up to the enjoyment of 
 the hour. 
 
 How true are the Saviour's words, " It is more 
 blessed to give than to receive." Mr. Nelson 
 found pleasure in watching the joy of his youthful 
 guests, as they ran and jumped and laughed, with 
 perfectly childish glee. Although Helen and 
 Barbara were fourteen, and Nora twelve, they were 
 indeed children ; for Mrs. Neville had never given 
 them to understand that .they would be young 
 ladies at fifteen. In all such matters Mrs. Neville 
 was very old-fashioned. She believed in keeping 
 children children, and in lengthening out the 
 sweet years of girlhood as long as possible. 
 
 " Ah," thought Mr. Nelson, with a sigh, " they 
 are children yet, pure and true; they have not 
 
 15 *
 
 174 HELEN MACGHREGrOR; OR,, 
 
 mixed with the world, to learn its hypocrisy and 
 deceit." 
 
 This was why he enjoyed their society, and tried 
 to please them as he would never have tried to 
 please older people. They went into the house, 
 and there everything bespoke the refined taste of a 
 gentleman, and the home of an intellectual epicure. 
 They wandered from room to room, and listened to 
 Mr. Nelson's stories of curiosities and pictures. 
 But in the midst of it all, an exclamation from 
 Helen turned all eyes in*that direction. 
 
 "A harp! a harp!" she said joyfully, laying her 
 hand caressingly upon it. 
 
 Her mind flew instantly to wild mountains, and 
 an old grey-haired minstrel ; it brought her home 
 once more vividly before her. 
 
 "A harp!" said Nora. "Oh, Mr. Nelson, won't 
 you please play us something?" 
 
 "I do not play, Nora, or I would willingly 
 oblige you." 
 
 Now this harp had belonged to Mr. Nelson's 
 mother, and had never been played upon since her 
 death. Mr. Nelson had never heard it, and some 
 thing of sacredness clung to it. 
 
 " I am very sorry, 1 " said Barbara ; " I have read
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 175 
 
 so much about harps and I have never heard 
 one." 
 
 "Never heard a harp?" said Helen, looking 
 astonished; "ah, then you cannot know what you 
 have missed." 
 
 Mr. Nelson smiled at Helen's enthusiasm, and 
 said playfully, " Perhaps you can favor us with a 
 tune, Helen?" 
 
 "Oh, will you indeed let me?" said Helen, ea 
 gerly. " I have not played since I left Scotland." 
 
 Mr. Nelson was surprised, and anything but 
 pleased ; but when Barbara and Nora both ex 
 pressed their delight at Helen's being able to play, 
 he reluctantly took off the cover. He had never 
 heard a sound from his mother's harp, but in his 
 boyish dreams he had connected all sweet sounds 
 with it, and he did not like to have the spell 
 broken by the careless twanging of a school girl. 
 He almost made up his mind to leave the room, 
 but sat down at the other end, while Nora and 
 Barbara waited with breathless interest. It took 
 Helen some time to tune it ; but the instrument 
 was a fine one, and the first chords that Helen 
 struck convinced Mr. Nelson that she was a good 
 player. But he was startled, as well as were Bar-
 
 176 HELEN" MACGKREGOR ; OR, 
 
 bara and Nora, at the full, rich voice which burst 
 forth into a Scottish song. The memory of old 
 times was with her in that hour. She forgot the 
 listeners, and sang with a passionate utterance of 
 which she was unaware. She began with the free, 
 wild song, 
 
 "My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, 
 My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer ; 
 Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, 
 My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go." 
 
 Taught by the wandering Dugald, there was a 
 boldness and force about her touch that accorded 
 well with the wild music. Song followed song, 
 for Mr. Nelson was a keen lover of music. And 
 what music is like the human voice? Oh, ye who 
 have the gift of song, use it for good ; for nothing 
 can so thrill and mould the heart as the rich sweet 
 ness of a fine voice. 
 
 Reluctantly Helen left the harp ; but the after 
 noon was waning, and Mr. Nelson wished them 
 to take another good play before supper, for as 
 soon as that was over, they were to return home. 
 
 They went out to the woods. Mr. Nelson pro 
 posed " hide and seek," and joined in the game 
 with a boyish ardor. Those grand old woods
 
 CONQUEST -A-ND SACRIFICE. 177 
 
 with their large trees, made splendid hiding-places. 
 The game was a merry one, though rather warm. 
 
 "Oh, Barbara, isn't it splendid fun?" said 
 Nora, as she came into "baste" her cheeks crim 
 son with the exercise. 
 
 "Yes, it is very nice," said Mr. Nelson, smiling, 
 " but days will end some time, and now I think it 
 is time to rest before supper." 
 
 " Ah, but it's your turn to hunt," said Helen 
 smiling, " and so I move we have just one more 
 hide." 
 
 " Well then, just one more, as it is my turn ; 
 I'll soon find you." 
 
 " Now don't be too sure," said Helen, as she ran 
 off. 
 
 Helen had noticed near the spot where they ate 
 their dinner, a tree with very low branches, and 
 she determined to get into that. She had on a 
 dark chintz dress, and this would scarcely be seen 
 among the thick leaves. She climbed pretty high 
 up, and fixing herself comfortably, awaited, with 
 many a little laugh, for Mr. Nelson to find her. 
 
 Barbara was soon found, then Nora; but to 
 Helen's glee, she heard them all running, and 
 hunting her, until fearing they might become
 
 178 HELEN ItfCA-CGlOREQ-OR,; OK, 
 
 frightened, she whooped two or three times. This 
 brought them all quite near her, but they never 
 thought of looking up. At last, Helen, thinking 
 they had searched long enough, dropped a leaf 
 down, with a merry laugh. Mr. Nelson looked 
 up ; there was Helen's happy face looking down 
 at him. 
 
 "See, you didn't find me so easily, after 
 all," she said laughing, and starting to come 
 down. 
 
 "Oh, Helen, how could you get up there?" 
 asked Nora. 
 
 Mr. Nelson said nothing. It rather shocked his 
 ideas of girlhood to find Helen climbing trees like 
 a boy. He did not know how she had been 
 brought up, almost wild, and that climbing a tree 
 or a rock, was no more to Helen MacGregor, than 
 lying down to rest. 
 
 He had been charmed by her singing and gay 
 good humor, but this certainly lowered Helen very 
 much in the eyes of the fastidious gentleman. 
 
 " Take care ! Helen," he called out, " that limb 
 is very unsafe." 
 
 But he spoke too late. The limb bent, then 
 cracked, and Helen came rather heavily to the
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 179 
 
 ground. She uttered a slight scream, quickly fol 
 lowed by a laugh. But Helen's merriment did 
 not last long ; Mr. Nelson lifted her up, and dis 
 covered that she had sprained her ankle. 
 
 He gently carried her to the house and laid her 
 on a lounge. He then sent for the housekeeper, 
 and being something of a doctor directed her what 
 to do. 
 
 Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper, was a good 
 woman, but very fussy. She made such a lament, 
 and exclaimed so seriously over the accident while 
 she was rubbing Helen's ankle, that Nora and 
 Barbara were quite frightened. 
 
 " Oh, it will not be much," said Helen heroic 
 ally, although the pain was very great. 
 
 " How will you get home ?" said Nora, " your 
 ankle is swelling so, you can't put on a shoe or 
 stocking." 
 
 " I think I shall have to make her my prisoner 
 for to-night and to-morrow," said Mr. Nelson 
 kindly, " and then we will drive over to see you." 
 
 Helen tried to smile, and say she could go home; 
 but it was as much as she could do to keep from 
 crying whenever she moved her foot ; so she con 
 cluded she had better stay.
 
 180 HELEN MACGrREG-OR; OR, 
 
 A delicious little supper had been already pre 
 pared in the same place where they had taken 
 dinner ; but as Helen could not go out, the table 
 was reset close to the lounge on which she was 
 lying. Mr. Nelson took supper with them, and 
 exerted himself to clear away the cloud that had 
 settled on the brows of his youthful guests. 
 
 Nora and Barbara were so sorry for Helen ; and 
 Helen was dreading staying in th^at strange house 
 all night. But youth soon looks on the bright 
 side, and when it was time for Nora and Barbara 
 to go home, they were all in good spirits again. 
 Helen sent her love and a kiss to Mrs. Neville. 
 " And mind, Barbara, tell her not to be worried, 
 as I am better." 
 
 "Yes, we will," said Nora; "give me a kiss, 
 and I will be down, in the morning to see how you 
 are, if mother is willing." 
 
 "Yes, do, Nora dear," she whispered, "for I 
 shall be dreadfully lonely. And, oh, Nora, water 
 my flowers, please, when you water yours." 
 
 " Yes, I will ; good-bye." 
 
 " Just to think," said Nora, as she got into the 
 carriage, " that such a lovely day must be so short; 
 it seemed to be short, and yet when I think how
 
 CONQUEST A3TD SACRIFICE. 181 
 
 long it is since I saw mother, it seems to me quite 
 long." 
 
 "Rather paradoxical that, Nora," said Mr. 
 Nelson, laughing, " the day seems short, and yet 
 it seems long." 
 
 Nora laughed too. " Yes, it is funny ; but that 
 is just the way it seems to me. We are so much 
 obliged to you, Mr. Nelson; you took so much 
 trouble to make us happy." 
 
 " And you, little Nora," he said, chucking her 
 under the chin, " would be very apt to be happy, 
 whether any one took trouble about you or not." 
 
 "Yes," said Nora, "but then mother says we 
 ought to be happy, when God gives us so many, 
 many blessings." 
 
 Mr. Nelson made no reply to this. Perhaps he 
 thought, with some bitterness, that all his wealth 
 could not give him a really happy moment ; and 
 he looked, with a sigh Nora could not understand, 
 at her trusting face. 
 
 Mr. Nelson drove them home, and explained 
 the accident to Mrs. Neville, telling her he would 
 take good care of Helen. 
 
 And thus ended the happy day. Nora and Bar 
 bara could scarcely be got off to bed, they had so 
 
 16
 
 182 HELEN" 
 
 much to tell ; and Helen sank to sleep on a luxu 
 rious couch, in a handsome room, with a little sigh 
 of loneliness, missing the merry good nights of the 
 sisters, and she would willingly have exchanged 
 the costly magnificence of her chamber, for the 
 little bed in her own room. It was a mark of the 
 growing change in Helen that she looked around 
 her with no wish to remain there. She was learn 
 ing under Mrs. Neville's teaching, to look upon 
 riches as they should be looked upon, only as a 
 great trust, giving us greater opportunities to fur 
 ther our Master's cause, and a mightier responsi 
 bility at the judgment day.
 
 XIII. 
 
 HELEN AT 
 
 "Think truly, and thy thoughts 
 
 Shall the world's famine feed ; 
 Speak truly, and each word of thine 
 
 Shall be a faithful seed ; 
 Live truly, and thy life shall be 
 A great and noble creed." 
 
 HELEN'S visit tf Oakdale, for that was the 
 name of Mr. Nelson's place, proved anything 
 but dull. She awoke the first morning with an 
 earnest wish to go home, and a disagreeable idea 
 of how long the day would be. But she little 
 knew the many sources of pleasure that lay hidden 
 in those vast rooms ; and Mr. Nelson was far too 
 kind to let his young guest suffer for want of 
 amusement. There were portfolios full of the 
 most exquisite engravings, the collection Mr. Nel 
 son had made while travelling ; books full of pic 
 tures and pleasant reading; rare curiosities and 
 wonderful puzzles, over which Helen could have 
 
 183
 
 184 HELEN MACGKREOOR; OR, 
 
 spent days. Each morning Mrs. Davis assisted 
 her to the lounge by the open window which 
 looked out on the old-fashioned garden and deep 
 woods beyond. And then Mr. Nelson always 
 came hi to pay what Helen called his " doctor's 
 visit ;" but unlike other doctors, he always brought 
 something pleasant, a new book, or puzzle, or pic 
 ture ; and always left a dish of fine peaches beside 
 her on a little stand. No wonder then that the 
 three days' captivity passed very pleasantly to 
 Helen. Either Nora, or Barbara, or Mrs. Neville, 
 called every day ; and finally Mrs. Neville on one 
 of her visits pronounced ftelen well enough to 
 come home the next day, and Mr. Nelson had 
 promised to bring her in the carriage that after 
 noon. As she lay there on the lounge and gazed 
 idly out on the lovely landscape, she gave a little 
 sigh. To be sure she did wish to go home and 
 be with them all ; but she could not help thinking 
 that there would be no Mrs. Davis there to pet 
 her and to wait on her, and no Mr. Nelson to 
 amuse her. The idea of work seemed rather dis 
 tasteful. But Helen would not indulge herself in 
 such thoughts. She remembered in the Baptis 
 mal vow which she intended taking upon herself.
 
 CONQUEST A-ND SACRIFICE. 185 
 
 that she must promise to be contented in that state 
 in which God had placed her, and she raised a 
 sincere prayer for help to be enabled to go home 
 cheerfully, and to return to her duties with none 
 of the fault-finding spirit of other days. Helen 
 had just regained her cheerful spirits once more, 
 when Mr. Nelson entered. 
 
 " Well my little prisoner, this is your last morn 
 ing here ; this afternoon you get your release ; and 
 I expect you are very glad, too. It is rather dull, 
 being shut up such lovely days." 
 
 " Oh, I have not been dull ; how could I be 
 when you have been so kind and have taken so 
 much trouble for me ? I am sure, sir, I shall never 
 forget it. I do wish I could do something for 
 you." 
 
 "Well, you can," said Mr. Nelson, smiling, 
 " you can sing for me ; and mind, I shall not be 
 contented with one, two, or three songs. I must 
 hear all I can now, as there is no telling when you 
 will sprain your ankle again and have to stay 
 here." 
 
 "Well," said Helen, laughing, "I do not mind 
 the staying here, but I'd rather be excused from 
 the sprain. Shall I go down stairs?"
 
 186 HELEN IVCACGJ-REe-OR,; OR, 
 
 " No, no, you must be a little careful yet ; I 
 will have the harp brought up." 
 
 The harp was brought and placed beside the 
 lounge, and Helen was invited to sing. She was 
 too little initiated into the fashions of society to 
 wait to be coaxed until the pleasure of hearing is 
 entirely destroyed by the trouble of obtaining. So 
 Helen sang on, in her own fondness carried away 
 by the spirit of the song, forgetful of her listener ; 
 only interrupted, if she paused, by Mr. Nelson's, 
 " one more," until Helen looking up, smiling said, 
 " Indeed I do not know another one." 
 
 " Not another one ? Just think." 
 
 " Indeed I have thought, and I am sure I do 
 not know any more." 
 
 " Well, then I suppose I must be contented ; 
 but who did teach you to play, Helen ?" 
 
 "Dear old Dugald Stuart. He is one of those 
 wandering harpers now almost gone from Scot 
 land." 
 
 " He must be a fine player," said Mr. Nelson. 
 
 " Oh, if you could only hear him," said Helen, 
 enthusiastically, "it seems to me I can see him 
 now, with his long white hair, sitting on the rocks, 
 harp in hand, and the dark pine trees, the blue
 
 CONQUEST A.JXD SACRIFICE. 187 
 
 loch, and the wild mountains around him. Ah, 
 there is no land like Scotland. I love it." 
 
 Mr. Nelson smiled a little as he asked, " What 
 makes you love it?" 
 
 " All things ;" answered Helen promptly. " It is 
 my native land, and the sky seems bluer, and the 
 sunshine brighter. Through many childish years 
 I wandered almost wild amidst its glens and 
 mountains. I learned to love the grandeur of its 
 wintry desolation, as well as the flowery beauty of 
 its summer." 
 
 "Yes, I understand," said Mr. Nelson, "you 
 love Scotland for its beauty, but that alone is a 
 frail tenure to hold your love by." 
 
 " It has always been beautiful to me," replied 
 Helen, "although many do not think with me 
 there ; but I love it better for the great and noble 
 dead; for the free and independent spirit of its 
 people. Tell me, when did the Scots ever submit 
 tamely to subjugation ? 'Tis the land of Wallace 
 and of Bruce. Ah, if you were a Scotchman, you 
 would not ask me why I love Scotland." 
 
 " I am Scotch," quietly said Mr. Nelson. 
 
 Helen almost jumped from the lounge, "Are 
 you indeed Scotch ? Oh, then you have been to
 
 188 HELEN MACGKREGOR,; OR,, 
 
 Scotland; you love it; and you know all about it, 
 and I expect you have only been teasing me." 
 
 "Yes, I have been to Scotland, but I never 
 lived there, for my parents brought me to this 
 country when I was only six months old." 
 
 "Then you do not know what it is to live 
 there," said Helen, a little disappointed. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Nelson, smiling, " but I think 
 I prefer living in America. Do not misunderstand 
 me though ; I like Scotland, and the sturdy prin 
 ciples of its people. I also admire your two 
 favorite heroes, Wallace and Bruce ; although his 
 tory says that Wallace was blood-thirsty, and 
 Bruce the fickle and selfish earl of Carrick. 
 
 " Oh, do not say so," said Helen ; " it was the 
 proud nobility, who would not admit Wallace's 
 superiority, that slandered him^ and you must re 
 member that when the earl of Carrick became 
 king Robert the Bruce, he lost his follies, and was 
 a noble king." 
 
 " Well, well, Helen, have your own way," said 
 Mr. Nelson kindly, " I too have passed through the 
 age of hero worship. While in Scotland I stood 
 on the banks of the Carron, and in imagination 
 heard the call of Wallace,
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 189 
 
 " Wako, carl of Carrick ! wako to fame, 
 And make Do Bruce the honored name !" 
 
 "You will understand, Helen, as you grow older, 
 how all these things cease to interest." 
 
 " Do not tell me that ; I can never believe that 
 great and noble actions cease to charm and move 
 our deepest feelings." 
 
 " They would not if they were found in the pre 
 sent ; but great actions live only in the past. Do you 
 think there are many women of the present day who 
 would, like the beautiful Margaret Seaton, hold 
 their arm in the staple of the door, until it was 
 crushed, to defend their king ?" 
 
 "Not many" said Helen, shrewdly, "and I 
 dare say there were not many such in those days. 
 But," she added timidly, " Mrs. Neville has taught 
 nie that there are actions performed just as heroic 
 ally, and for nobler purposes, in these days, but 
 they do not become historical." 
 
 " What, for instance ?" asked Mr. Nelson, skep 
 tically. 
 
 Helen blushed deeply ; it was one thing to listen 
 tOj and imbibe Mrs. Neville's instructions and 
 ideas, but quite another thing for one as inex 
 perienced to tell them to the grave gentleman
 
 190 HELEN MA-CGKREOOR,; OR, 
 
 beside her, who she instinctively felt cared nothing 
 for religion. 
 
 Mr. Nelson repeated the question, and Helen said, 
 
 " I cannot indeed make you understand, as Mrs. 
 Neville could ; but I was one day longing to live 
 in heroic times, when she reminded me that all 
 persons could redeem their lives from tameness, 
 and make them heroic in self-sacrifice, by follow 
 ing the Saviour. She said too that there was 
 many a heart struggle between duty and inclina 
 tion far exceeding the physical sufferings which 
 we read of and admire." 
 
 Helen stopped, for she saw Mr. Nelson did not 
 relish the turn which the conversation was taking. 
 Mr. Nelson admired the simple faith that could 
 believe in such human goodness, but he had it not, 
 and therefore it irritated him to hear of it; it 
 seemed like a closed door which he could not 
 enter, but always saw, and beyond which he felt 
 certain lay the happiness he was ever craving. 
 So without answering Helen's remark he went 
 back to their former topic. 
 
 "How is it," he said, "you know so much 
 about Scottish heroes ? I thought you had never 
 studied history."
 
 CONQUEST A.NT3 SACRIFICE. 191 
 
 " I am just beginning it," said Helen, smiling, 
 " but I learned the history of Scotland's heroes in 
 a much pleasanter way. Many a long winter even 
 ing I have sat and listened to old Margie's tales 
 and legends of which I never tired. The peat 
 fire would be our only light, and old Margie in a 
 cap and short gown would knit industriously all 
 the time, while I would sit listening and idly look 
 ing into the fire, imagining I could see there 
 enacted all she was telling me. It was there I 
 heard of the daring deeds of William Wallace ; 
 of the bravery of Robert Bruce ; the fearful name 
 of the black Douglass ; the sorrows of the lovely 
 Mary, Queen of Scotland; and many heroic le 
 gends of fair ladies, which live in the memories of 
 the old and are handed down from generation to 
 generation. It seemed to me last Sunday as though 
 I was once more listening to old Margie when our 
 rector spoke of the good Lord James of Douglass." 
 
 "Rather a strange subject for the pulpit," said 
 Mr. Nelson, with a slight curl of the lip. 
 
 "Oh, no," said Helen, hastily, "not the way he 
 used it ; it was beautiful, and made me long to be 
 what he said we should be." 
 
 "But how did he use it?" asked Mr. Nelson,
 
 192 HELEN :VLA.CGHREGK>:R; OR,, 
 
 impelled to hear more of a subject that he was al 
 ways shunning. 
 
 "Ah, I wish you could have heard him ; I can 
 not tell it as he did, but I'll try and tell you what 
 he meant. It was communion Sunday, and we 
 don't have a sermon then, only a few remarks ; 
 and Mr. Clayton, after speaking of the wonderful 
 love of tTesus, and of all he had done for us, said 
 that King Robert Bruce on his death-bed requested 
 the Earl of Douglass to take his heart to the Holy 
 Land. Douglass had a silver case made in which 
 he put the heart of Bruce, and wore it round his 
 neck by a chain. On his way to the Holy Land, 
 he stopped in Spain, and was persuaded to join in 
 a battle against the Saracens. The Scots were de 
 feated ; and Douglass was so surrounded by Moors 
 that he could not make his escape ; so taking from 
 his neck the heart of Bruce he flung it into the 
 midst of the enemy, exclaiming, 'Forward, heart 
 of Bruce! whither thou leadest, Douglass will fol 
 low or die,' and rushing forward to the place where 
 it fell he was immediately killed. Then Mr. 
 Clayton added, 'so the Christian should be willing 
 devotedly to follow wherever Christ thinks best to 
 lead him : whether into sorrow or trouble, or what-
 
 CONQUEST -A-TTD SACRIFICE. 193 
 
 ever adversity God thinks good for him, even 
 though it be unto death. For after all, that was 
 only a fulfilment of the prayer we pray every day, 
 'Thy will be done.' Can you understand my 
 poor way of telling it, Mr. Nelson ?" 
 
 "Very well. You have a good memory, 
 Helen." 
 
 "Yes, I have." 
 
 Mr. Nelson was rather amused at this frank 
 admission. But if he had said, " Helen, you are 
 pretty," she most likely would have acknowledged 
 that as well ; for Helen knew too little of the ways of 
 the world to know that it is fashionable to tell an un 
 truth rather than to say anything favorable of your 
 self. In the same way she talked freely with any 
 one ; not that she was bold, or forward, but she 
 liked to talk, and had never been taught "that 
 little girls must be seen and not heard." And at 
 Mrs. Neville's cottage, religion was so thoroughly 
 the every day life of the family, that to talk of it 
 seemed only natural. 
 
 " It is strange," said Mr. Nelson after a pause, 
 " that such a zealous admirer of Scotland can be 
 content here. Don't you long to go back ?" 
 
 " I did," answered Helen ; " I do not now." 
 
 17 s
 
 194 HELEN lyi^CGOREG-OR,; OH, 
 
 " And why not now ?" 
 
 " Because," she replied, " although it was pleas 
 ant to lead the life I led, yet there I never went to 
 Sunday-school; I never heard of a better and 
 happier life. There are plenty of Sunday-schools 
 there ; but my father would not allow me to go." 
 
 " The same subject," thought Mr. Nelson ; and 
 taking out his watch he said, " I must go now ; 
 be ready to start at five o'clock ; and mind, I shall 
 expect to hear that good-bye song before we go." 
 
 " Yes," said Helen laughing, " I shall sing it so 
 sadly that you'll begin to cry." 
 
 " If I do you will certainly be frightened," said 
 Mr. Nelson as he went out. 
 
 Helen remained alone; she ate her dinner, 
 looked over the pictures, and tried all the puzzles 
 once more ; practised a little on the harp, and five 
 o'clock came all too soon. Helen sang the good 
 bye song, and although Mr. Nelson laughed, in 
 stead of crying, yet he felt far more sorry to part 
 with Helen than she supposed. He led a lonely 
 life; Helen had a good memory, and a High 
 lander's gift of talking well, and she entertained 
 him. Then too " the innocence and truth of early 
 youth still lingered around her ;" and Mr. Nelson
 
 CONQUEST ^ND SA-CrHITICE. 195 
 
 had seen too much of the world not to prize those 
 fleeting hours. Helen had also the greatest of all 
 charms, true religion ; and in spite of his skepti 
 cism, as Mr. Nelson drove home, after leaving 
 Helen at the cottage, he sighed for the pure faith 
 and Christian life which he saw practised there. 
 Helen's words, too, still haunted him. He had 
 been a great dreamer ; he had longed to do some 
 great thing, that should make him rank among 
 the " few immortal names that were not born to 
 die." But the true heroism of duty fulfilled af 
 any cost, the beauty of self-sacrifice, the high mis 
 sion of a Christ follower, the wish to have his 
 name written on the roll of honor in the court of 
 heaven, and ever show a firm loyalty to Jehovah 
 Jesus, the King of kings, of all these he had never 
 truly thought until Mr. Clayton's illustration had 
 waked them into life. And as Mr. Nelson entered 
 Oakdale, he said with Agrippa of old, " Almost 
 thou persuadest me to be a Christian."
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE TEA-PARTY. 
 
 " Not long does the life blood career through the heart : 
 Like the glory of summer we come and depart ; 
 Yet, e'en like that glory, if gentle and kind, 
 We leave hoth a beauty and fragrance behind." 
 
 HOW hard it is to settle down to the routine 
 of every day duties after indulgence in a 
 pleasant visit, or a holiday! Helen found it par 
 ticularly so after her return home. She awoke the 
 next morning with a disappointed feeling, and a 
 sense of something pleasant gone, which made the 
 things around her lose their usual charm. But 
 Helen knew that discontent was a sin ; and kneel 
 ing down, she prayed earnestly for a cheerful, con 
 tented spirit. And the Saviour heard and an 
 swered. She arose, determined to think no more 
 of Oakdale, and its easy life. But when she went 
 down stairs, and was met by Nora with a hearty 
 kiss, and the lively exclamation, " Oh, Helen, I 
 have something so splendid to tell you," the last 
 
 196
 
 CONQUEST A.JXT) SA.CrtllT'ICE. 197 
 
 cloud vanished, and she entered into the plans 
 proposed with a delight that dispelled all thoughts 
 of regret. 
 
 Nora's important news was, that Monday was 
 Barbara's birth-day, and they would have a tea- 
 party as they always had on their birth-days. 
 
 "And doesn't it happen well?" said Nora; 
 " Barbara's birth-day comes in August, and mine 
 in January ; so we always have two parties a year. 
 "When does yours come, Helen ?" 
 
 " Why, in January too, the first." 
 
 " Oh dear, and mine is the eighth, that would 
 be too close together." 
 
 " You and Helen will have to celebrate yours 
 the same day," said Mrs. Neville. 
 
 " Yes," said Nora, " I suppose we will ; but you 
 see, mother, I was in hopes we'd get three." 
 
 "I am so sorry you can't walk much yet, 
 Helen," said Barbara, " for we are going out to in 
 vite the girls this afternoon, and we wanted you to 
 go with us." 
 
 Helen looked disappointed ; girls enjoy inviting 
 company so much. 
 
 " Don't you think you could go with us if we 
 sat down to rest often ?" asked Nora.
 
 198 HELE1ST MACGHIEQ-OR,; OR., 
 
 " Where would we sit down ?" said Barbara, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Oh, on the road-side, or door-steps ; you know 
 that would be allowable when we are taking an 
 invalid out." 
 
 There is no knowing what the invalid would 
 have said, but Mrs. Neville interfered, 
 
 "If Helen wishes to run and play on Monday, 
 she had better keep quiet until then, so that her 
 ankle will feel strong again." 
 
 This decided the question ; the fear of not being 
 able to play on Monday gave Helen courage to 
 watch Nora and Barbara depart, without a sigh. 
 
 While they were gone Mr. Nelson called to see 
 how his patient was ; and on hearing of the girls' 
 proposed tea-party he asked Mrs. Neville's per 
 mission to send them some of his fine peaches. 
 He took delight in gratifying his young friends, 
 for he loved to see their eyes sparkle, and their 
 cheeks flush with joy, and to hear their warm 
 thanks. So on Monday, when the peaches came, 
 Mrs. Neville was not surprised to see in addition 
 a large pitcher of cream, and three handsome 
 bouquets of flowers. On one was written " Barbara," 
 on another " Helen," and on the third " Nora." They
 
 CONQUEST A.NT> SACRIFICE. 199 
 
 were just alike, excepting that the top flower of 
 Helen's was a magnificent white lily. It was the 
 only one in bloom, and Mr. Nelson had hesitated 
 some time whose name to write on it, but at length 
 decided on Helen's. So it was determined that 
 this bouquet should stand in the centre of the sup 
 per table, and Nora's and Barbara's at each end. 
 Flowers out of their own garden, already decorated 
 the parlor. 
 
 The girls enjoyed themselves vastly arranging 
 the tea-table before they went up to dress, thus 
 saving their mother as much work as possible. 
 
 Fifteen plates Barbara put down ; Nora followed 
 with fifteen knives, and Helen with fifteen forks ; 
 and so they counted everything. 
 
 "You fix the napkins in the goblets, Helen," 
 said Nora, " because you do it so nicely." 
 
 Helen complied; and then they all stood off to 
 admire the table, until admonished by Mrs. Nev 
 ille that it was time to dress. 
 
 Helen's ankle was quite 1^1, and she ran down 
 stairs as eagerly as any to welcome the youthful 
 guests. There were all Mrs. Neville's Sunday- 
 school class, eight girls, two others from the vil 
 lage, and Mary Rellim. Mrs. Neville -had hesi-
 
 200 HELElSr IVTACGHtEQOR,; OR, 
 
 tated a little about inviting Mary, but since Gus- 
 sie's death Mrs. Rellim had sent Mary to the 
 cottage several times, either to ask some favor, or 
 to pay a visit, and Mrs. Neville did not wish to 
 repulse these friendly overtures. Mary came, 
 dressed a great deal too extravagantly for the occa 
 sion, which was meant to be a real play time. 
 Mrs. Neville always threw open the whole house, 
 excepting the dining room and kitchen. They 
 might hide from the garret to the cellar, and ex 
 ercise their youthful lungs to the utmost. 
 
 Helen, Barbara, and Nora, wore simple light 
 chintz dresses fit to play in. And as several of the 
 girls were quite poor, Mrs. Neville did not wish 
 her girls to dress in a manner that would make 
 them feel uncomfortable. Many of the girls had 
 looked with rather envious eyes on Mary Rellim's 
 pink barege and its tiny flounces trimmed with 
 silk; but, long before the afternoon was over, it 
 would have been difficult to get any of that little 
 company to excliang^presses with her. For Mary 
 would play; and running through the bushes in 
 the excitement of "tagger," or hiding in closets, 
 and behind doors, was rather hard on barege ; so 
 that poor Mary was constantly running to some
 
 CONQUEST A.NT> SACRIFICE. 201 
 
 one to get her dress pinned up. And by the time 
 they had gone through all the noisy plays Mary 
 was by no means the best dressed girl in the room, 
 as she had determined she would be. 
 
 " I am real sorry you have torn your dress so," 
 said Helen, as she stood by Mary during one of 
 the plays. 
 
 "Oh, it makes no difference," carelessly an 
 swered Mary. 
 
 " It is a pity you did not think to wear a dress 
 that would not tear so easily," said Helen, without 
 intending to say anything unpleasant ; but Mary 
 was out of humor with her misfortunes, and she 
 answered sneeringly, 
 
 " I ought to have worn calico, I suppose. You 
 think because you can't afford to wear anything 
 else, nobody should." 
 
 In an instant anger flashed from Helen's eyes, 
 and she answered haughtily, 
 
 "A barege dress never yet made a lady of the 
 person who wore it." 
 
 She did not wait for Mary's reply, but turned 
 angrily away. But if Helen's temper had been 
 quick, so also was her repentance. The thought 
 shot through her with a thrill of pain, " I have
 
 202 HELEN TULA-CGKREGOR} OR, 
 
 been angry. I have sinned. O my Saviour, for 
 give me !" And without stopping an instant she 
 ran out to the porch, where Mary had just gone, 
 and said, " Do forgive me, Mary ; I get angry so 
 quickly, and I forget myself ; it was very unkind 
 in me. Won't you try and forget it, and enjoy 
 yourself?" 
 
 Mary Hellim was very much surprised at this 
 termination of a quarrel which she expected would 
 be like the many they used to have; but although 
 surprised, she was unable to appreciate the frank 
 avowal and its generous wish. She felt angry, 
 and took no trouble to conceal it ; and it took all 
 Helen's efforts for the rest of the afternoon, which 
 she zealously devoted to Mary, to restore the sullen 
 beauty to a good humor ; and it was accomplished 
 then only by a mere accident which Helen took 
 advantage of. They had exhausted all their lively 
 plays and some one proposed "cross questions." 
 This was hailed with pleasure. They seated them 
 selves in two rows, facing each other; then one 
 went through the centre asking questions ; if she 
 asked a question of one girl, the one opposite to 
 her had to answer it immediately, or pay a forfeit; 
 and the selling of these forfeits formed a very
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 203 
 
 merry part of the game. Lucy Dean was selling 
 the forfeits over Barbara's head. 
 
 "Heavy, heavy, what hangs over?" asked 
 Lucy. 
 
 " Fine, or superfine ?" 
 
 "Superfine; what must be done with the 
 owner ?" 
 
 "She must bow to the prettiest, kneel to the 
 wittiest, and kiss the one she loves best," said 
 Barbara. 
 
 " Here, here, Helen, it is yours," said several 
 eager voices. 
 
 Helen advanced, took her pocket handkerchief, 
 and then looked round on the little circle with 
 criticizing eyes. She made eye-glasses of her fin 
 gers, declaring that she must be very particular; 
 then crossing the room she bowed very low to Mary 
 Rellim ; she knelt before Edith Ray, the oldest, 
 and therefore supposed to be the wittiest; and 
 then, throwing her arms around Nora, gave her a 
 hearty kiss. That was the added rose-leaf to 
 Nora's brimming cup of happiness that afternoon. 
 She loved Helen so much, that although it was 
 only a play, she felt anxious to know whom she 
 would kiss.
 
 204 HEIjEOSr MACGKREGKDR ; OR, 
 
 The bow vanquished the ill nature of Mary Rel- 
 lim, and Helen could enjoy herself for the rest of 
 the time. Her hasty temper, and her regret at 
 giving way to it, had cast a gloom over her spirits, 
 though she strove to hide it for the sake of her 
 guests. But now she felt relieved once more, that 
 she had atoned, as far as she was able, for her 
 fault, and Mary Rellim had condescended so far 
 as to speak to her. 
 
 Many other forfeits were sold, for each girl had 
 several. One had to propose a new play, another 
 to perform a piece on the piano, a third to tell a 
 comic story, and so on, each one adding her mite 
 to the general entertainment. At length it came 
 Helen's turn again to pay a forfeit. 
 
 " Indeed," said Barbara, who was the seller this 
 time, "I can't think of another thing; tell me 
 what I shall ask the unfortunate owner to do." 
 
 " Tell her to go out of the room for five minutes, 
 and then come in and do something to amuse the 
 company," suggested Edith Ray. 
 
 "Well then, I hope it's yours, Edith," said 
 Mary Rellim. 
 
 But no, it was Helen's. She took -it very re 
 luctantly and went out of the room, having no
 
 CONQUEST ANT> SACRIFICE. 205 
 
 idea what to do. But Mrs. Neville always taught 
 her children to use every exertion in their power 
 to entertain their guests. If any girl did not wish 
 to do a thing, one of them always offered at once 
 to take her place. True hospitality reigned at the 
 cottage. The desire of a guest, expressed, when 
 right, was law ; so Helen made up her mind that 
 she could not back out, but must think of some 
 thing. Five minutes elapsed, and she did not 
 come. Ten minutes, and still no Helen. The 
 waiting ones begin to grow impatient, when lo ! the 
 door flies open, and in bounds Helen, dressed as a 
 Highland maid ! Not the way she usually dressed 
 when at home, but in a suit which had been her 
 grandmother's when she was a girl, and which 
 Helen insisted, in spite of Margaret's entreaties, on 
 bringing with her. She wore a dark blue jacket 
 and short skirt. A scarlet plaid was fastened on 
 one shoulder, and knotted on the other side at her 
 waist, the ends hanging down to the bottom of her 
 skirt. Her feet and ankles were bare, and her 
 simple head-dress consisted of a scarlet snood, over 
 which her dark hair hung in heavy ringlets. 
 Helen made a graceful little bow, and then broke 
 forth into a gay Scottish song. When she had 
 
 18
 
 206 HELEIST MACGTRJEGOR,; OR, 
 
 finished, without waiting an instant, she bowed 
 again and sprang out of the door near which she 
 stood. All the girls called, and then started after 
 her ; but they called and pleaded in vain, Helen 
 could not be found. After a fruitless search they 
 returned to the parlor, and there she sat quietly 
 reading ! 
 
 Great was the laughing, and many the excla 
 mations, which were only increased by Helen's 
 perfectly grave face, and serious questions as to 
 what was the matter. 
 
 "Ah, Helen, I think you might have stayed 
 longer." " Did you use to dress so ?" " How splen 
 did you did look !" " Where did you go ?" Thus 
 the questions eagerly went on; but no entreaties 
 would induce Helen to appear again. She had 
 dressed and undressed in the kitchen, with Mrs. 
 Neville's help ; and the doors were locked that led 
 to that and the dining-room, and Mrs. Neville 
 had advised her not to spoil the first effect by a 
 second appearance ; so at length they settled down. 
 Only one more forfeit remained to be sold. 
 
 " I do wish that was yours, Helen," said Lucy 
 Dean, " and then perhaps you would sing again." 
 
 But it proved to be Nora's.
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 207 
 
 " She must tell a serious story," said Barbara. 
 
 " What kind of a serious story ?" asked Nora. 
 
 " Oh, a ghost story," said Lucy Dean. 
 
 "A ghost story!" exclaimed several girls at 
 once, " there are no such things as ghosts." 
 
 " I have heard of ghosts," said Helen. 
 
 " So have I," said Nora, " and I will tell you a 
 real ghost story." 
 
 " Now, Nora," said Barbara, " how can you ? 
 You know there are no ghosts." 
 
 " Very well, Barbara, just wait and hear ; Aunt 
 Stella told it to me ; she read it in the paper and 
 .of course it must be true." 
 
 "It can't be bad if Aunt Stella told it," said 
 Barbara. 
 
 " Once upon a time," began Nora, Here all 
 the girls laughed. 
 
 "Well, you know I must begin somehow, and 
 I don't know any other beginning. So, once upon 
 a time, there was a clergyman lived in the West 
 of England, who used to take a few boys to edu 
 cate. At this time he had five pupils at his house. 
 The clergyman's family consisted of himself, wife, 
 son, and daughter, but the son was away at col 
 lege. The house was not very large, but part of
 
 208 HELEN MA-CG-REGOR ; OR,, 
 
 it was not used, because it was so old and dilapi 
 dated. Now on one side of the house, on the first 
 floor, was the school-room and play-room ; over 
 the school-room was the boys' bed-room, and next 
 to that an empty room which was in bad condi 
 tion and never used; and over that again an 
 empty garret, with broken windows and falling 
 plaster. The other side of the house was occupied 
 by the clergyman and his family. The boys' bed 
 room had a door which opened into the empty 
 room, and a few steps and a trap door, led into the 
 garret. 
 
 " One day the whole family went out for a long 
 walk, and took their dinners with them. When 
 the boys went to bed that night, they found the 
 door leading into the empty room open; but they 
 did not think much of that ; they shut it, and then 
 went to sleep. Suddenly, they were all wakened 
 by a loud scream in the empty room. They could 
 not think what it was ; then some one said it was 
 only fancy; when the youngest said, fearfully, 
 'Could it be a ghost?' 
 
 "'Nonsense,' said Dean, the oldest boy, 'you 
 surely do not believe in ghosts, Edwards.' 
 
 "So they all commenced to tease poor little Ed-
 
 CONQUEST 1 A.NT) S-A-CRHriOE. 209 
 
 wards, and he insisted it was a ghost, and dared 
 any of them to go in ; but they were all afraid. 
 At length, the two eldest, ashamed, got up, put on 
 a few clothes, and opened the door of the empty 
 room; they looked in; nothing was to be seen; 
 the moonlight poured in at the empty window and 
 made everything look cold and dismal. Then one 
 of the boys, safe in bed, called out, ' look in the 
 garret.' Dean went up the steps, and while he 
 was lifting up the trap door the three boys in the 
 bed-room ventured as far as the door to see what 
 would happen. No sooner had Dean opened the 
 trap door than they all saw something white glide 
 . past, and heard the same piercing scream. Dean 
 uttered a scream also, and in his fright let the trap 
 door fall on his hand ; this stunned him so that 
 he fell down on the other boy Walker, and knocked 
 him down, and they both rolled over together. 
 Dean was insensible, and Walker was too much 
 afraid of the ghost to move. In the mean time, 
 the other three boys jumped into bed and covered 
 their heads all up, expecting every moment some 
 horrid ghost would rush in and carry them oif. 
 Mr. Staunton was awakened by the noise, and 
 came in to see what was the matter. 'Oh, sir, 
 
 18 * o
 
 210 HELEN MACGREGOIt ; OR, 
 
 the ghost ! the ghost !' was all the boys could say. 
 He went into the other room and brought out 
 Dean and Walker, and stayed with the boys the 
 rest of that night and the next night, but nothing 
 more was heard." 
 
 " Well, what was it ?" asked Lucy. 
 
 " Why a ghost, of course," answered Julia May- 
 berry, who had a very superstitious mother. 
 
 " Well," continued Nora, " everything remained 
 quiet; and at last the boys gained courage to 
 sleep by themselves, and Mr. Staunton left them. 
 But about a month after the first alarm, they 
 heard noises as if some one was scratching in the 
 garret; several nights after they heard shrieks, 
 quite distinctly. They called for Mr. Staunton 
 each time, and he went up into the garret, but 
 although he thought he heard a rustling, he could 
 see nothing. On the next day, Edward Staunton, 
 the son, came home from college, and was very 
 much surprised to hear of the ghost. He told the 
 boys to call him as soon as they heard any noise. 
 They did; he went quietly up the ladder, and 
 opened the*trap door; they heard a great flutter 
 ing, sounds of shrieks redoubled, a sound of break 
 ing glass, and a violent struggle, and then Edward
 
 CONQUEST A1STD SACRIFICE. 211 
 
 called out that he had found the ghost ; he came 
 down the ladder, bringing with him, what do you 
 think?" 
 
 " What ? what ?" asked all the girls eagerly. 
 
 " A fine large owl !" 
 
 The burst of laughter that followed this was only 
 interrupted by the tea-bell ; and both Helen and 
 Julia were glad to escape the teasing they got 
 about the ghost. 
 
 Never did a tea-table look more inviting, with 
 its flowers and fruit, and seldom was one better 
 appreciated. After supper the evening was spent 
 in singing and music. They sang hymns towards 
 the last, and Mrs. Neville read a chapter in the 
 Bible and prayed. Thus separated this happy 
 party. No ill humor marred their good-byes, and 
 they were sorry the afternoon was so soon over.
 
 XV. 
 
 SELF-SACRIFICE. 
 
 " My child, the counsels high attend 
 Of thy Eternal Friend. 
 When longings pure, when holy prayers, 
 "When self-denying thoughts and cares 
 
 Room in thy heart would win, 
 Stay not too long to count them o'er; 
 Rise in his name; throw wide the door; 
 
 Let the good angels in." 
 
 world is full of beauty; and life is very 
 JL sweet, even to the care-worn. Helen's lot had 
 been cast in the midst of pleasant scenes. Her 
 young feet had been free to wander amongst the 
 trees and flowers, to climb the mountain path and 
 search the shaded dell, and to rove, like a child 
 of nature as she was, where Nature was most beau 
 tiful to her every sense. And now, removed from 
 the scenes of her wild, untutored childhood, in the 
 orderings of a kind Providence she was receiving 
 almost a mother's love and care from Mrs. Nev 
 ille; and enjoying a true and refining friendship 
 212
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 213 
 
 in Nora and Barbara. But more than all this, 
 Helen had found the Saviour. Each day she was 
 living closer and closer to him. Religion was 
 more to her than a mere name ; it was becoming 
 the daily guide of her life, an unfailing source of 
 blessing whether in joy or trouble. " The lines" 
 had indeed " fallen to her in pleasant places," and 
 she had " a goodly heritage." But each life-cup 
 holds its share of sorrow. Helen could not forget 
 that she did not hear from her father. 
 
 The summer had passed away, and October, 
 with its brilliant beauty and evanescent glory, 
 crowned the earth. Helen had at first watched 
 eagerly for a letter, but hope had at length died 
 out. Her spirit was too independent to allow her 
 to remain long a burden to others, after she began 
 to realize the true position of things. She there 
 fore made up her mind to become a teacher ; and 
 with redoubled energy entered upon her studies in 
 the beginning of September. Naturally of a sunny 
 temper, and not given to much sadness of spirit, 
 Helen yet bore a real grief about with her, on ac 
 count of her father. Although she had never 
 loved him with the deepest aifection, and although 
 their parting had been without a pang on her part,
 
 214 HELE1ST lYTACaOREGOR,; OR, 
 
 she could not help feeling sometimes, with a sad 
 dened heart, that she might never see him again. 
 Then too, she had her hours of soul despondency, 
 (as what Christian has not ?) when she thought of 
 what she should be, of what her Saviour expected 
 her to be, and of what she was not. 
 
 At such times how the trustful soul throws 
 itself on the compassion of an infinite love, and 
 finds consolation in the thought of the gentleness 
 of that Saviour who will not " break the bruised 
 reed, nor quench the smoking flax !" 
 
 One morning Helen felt particularly sad. It 
 was the day before they had attended the funeral 
 of Lucy Dean's father ; and she had watched, with 
 a keen pang, the passionate sorrow of the bereaved 
 orphans over him who had been so tender and so 
 kind. She heard friends speaking of his devo 
 tion to his motherless children, and a yearning 
 wish filled her heart that she also might taste a 
 father's love, while the bitter thought would come 
 with it that her father did not care enough for her 
 even to send after her, but had willingly abandoned 
 her to the care of strangers. When Helen arose 
 the morning after the funeral, something of this 
 sadness still lingered, but 'it was mingled with a
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SACRIFICE. 215 
 
 thought more absorbing. What was to become 
 of Lucy Dean and her five little brothers and 
 sisters? They had talked over it the evening be 
 fore, and Mrs. Neville had said it would be im 
 possible for her to do much ; and Helen noticed 
 that she said it with deep regret. Instantly the 
 thought occurred, " She could do more for those 
 friendless ones if it were not for me. I am the 
 additional burden that hinders her. Then, too, 
 Lucy is in her Sunday-school class, and therefore 
 has a greater claim on her help." This thought 
 worried Helen, an*d she could not recover her 
 spirits. Nora and Barbara playfully rallied her 
 on her melancholy face. 
 
 They were taking in their flowers for the win 
 ter, always a delightful task for Nora and Bar 
 bara. Helen participated in it for the first time, 
 and Nora had predicted that she would greatly 
 enjoy it. And Helen did enjoy it, but the trace 
 of sadness still lingered with it all. 
 
 " Three of these windows have the sun all win 
 ter," said Barbara; "which will you have, 
 Helen?" 
 
 " Either one," answered Helen, placing a magni 
 ficent rose-bush on the wide window ledge ; " flow-
 
 216 HELEN 3VE MCGREGOR ; OR,, 
 
 ers are very lovely, but so frail ; they cannot Bear 
 the least cold breath." 
 
 "Well," said Nora, "for my part I am glad 
 they cannot. Just to think, if flowers lived out 
 all winter, we could not- have them in the house 
 to make it beautiful when all is desolate out of 
 doors; and we would not have the pleasure of 
 taking them up." 
 
 " Nor the pleasure of getting quite muddy from 
 head to foot," said Mrs. Neville, smiling. 
 
 Nora laughed heartily as she glanced from her 
 mud-stained dress to her miM-covered fingers; 
 but Mrs. Neville noticed that Helen did not, as 
 usual, join in the laugh, but that she stood bend 
 ing over a heliotrope with a sort of absent air. 
 Nora and Barbara had already returned to the 
 garden, and Mrs. Neville going up to Helen, said 
 gently, 
 
 "You seem to.be sad to-day, dear Helen ; what 
 is the matter?" 
 
 Helen, who had been striving to conquer her 
 feelings all the morning, had now arrived at that 
 point when a few land words completely overcame 
 her, and bursting into tears she said, 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Neville, I know you could do some-
 
 CONQUEST ANT) SACRIFICE. 217 
 
 thing for Lucy Dean if it were not for me. How 
 I wish I did not have to be a burden to you." 
 
 "Helen! Helen!" said her kind benefactor, 
 half reproachfully, and yet tenderly, "how can 
 you talk so ?" and drawing the young girl to her 
 she kissed her fondly. "Are you not my daughter, 
 adopted as my own, and loved far better than 
 Lucy could be ? Do you not repay me ten-fold 
 daily for the little I do for you ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Helen, warmly returning the 
 caresses, "but I know you long to help Lucy, 
 and" 
 
 " And I intend to help her." 
 
 " But you are not able to do all that you wish, 
 for her." 
 
 "Can we ever do all we wish? Our duty, 
 Helen dear, is to do all that we can ; and surely 
 both you and I have faith enough to leave the 
 rest to God, to that God who*has proclaimed 
 himself the Father of the fatherless." 
 
 " Ah, if I had but your faith, dear Mrs. Nev 
 ille! I so often doubt. Sometimes I feel as 
 though I could trust God for everything; and 
 then again all looks dark and I think I must rely 
 on human help." 
 
 19
 
 218 HELEN MACGKREGHDR; OR, 
 
 "Alas, Helen, that is human weakness, the 
 world over. Now 'we see through a glass, darkly,' 
 but there comes a time when ' we shall see face to 
 face/ when the faith of earth, poor, weak, and 
 frail as it is, shall be lost in the all-glorious reality 
 of heaven. Until then, we must pay the penalty 
 of humanity, and strengthen our feeble faith by 
 unceasing draughts from the fount of life. ' We 
 must draw up living water, with the golden chain 
 of prayer.' Ay, and this very weakness throws us 
 more entirely upon our Saviour. You will find, 
 dear Helen, that life is a continued warfare be 
 tween good and evil, between duty and inclination. 
 I know it is hard sometimes to bear our little trou 
 bles and vexations, but happy are they who through 
 Christ's strength come out triumphant, and 'having 
 respect unto the recompense of the reward,' 
 ' count all things but loss for the excellency of the 
 knowledge of Christ.' You remember the words 
 of our favorite poet? 
 
 " ' Oh, thou so weary of thy self-denials, 
 
 And so impatient of thy little cross, 
 Is it so hard to bear thy daily trials, 
 
 To count thy earthly things a gainful loss ? 
 What if thou always suffer tribulation, 
 
 And if thy Christian warfare never cease?
 
 CONQTJKST A-ISTD SACRIFICE. 219 
 
 The gaining of the quiet habitation, 
 
 Shall gather thee to everlasting peace.' " 
 
 Helen felt greatly encouraged by Mrs. Neville's 
 words. There was comfort in knowing that others 
 also, at times, felt their faith grow weak ; yet she 
 could not give up the idea of assisting Mrs. Nev 
 ille in some way to aid the orphan family. When 
 therefore the flowers were all brought in, and Mrs. 
 Neville expressed her intention of going to see 
 Lucy, and asked Helen if she would like to go 
 with her, she gladly accepted the invitation. Be 
 fore starting, however, she knelt down and prayed, 
 that if consistent with his will, God would show 
 her some way of helping these poor children, and 
 also of manifesting her gratitude to Mrs. Neville 
 for all her tender care. Helen's communion with 
 her Saviour was not in vain. She rose from her 
 knees feeling assured that at the right time he 
 would open tocher the door of opportunity and 
 give her grace to enter it. Nora and Barbara 
 would have liked very much to go too, but their 
 mother had simply asked Helen, and they had 
 been trained from childhood to acquiesce in her 
 decisions without inquiring the why and the 
 wherefore. Nora ran after Helen to the gate to
 
 220 HELEN UVEACGKREGOR,; OR, 
 
 thrust a balsam apple into her hand, charging her 
 to be sure and tell Lucy to put some liquor on it 
 and keep it, as it was so excellent if any of the 
 children should fall down and hurt themselves. 
 Helen took it and promised, but she could not 
 help wondering in her mind where Lucy would 
 get the liquor. 
 
 They found Lucy, with all the family gathered 
 round her, busily darning stockings. She was 
 very glad that they had come, but received them 
 with such a hopeless, dejected manner, that it went 
 to Mrs. Neville's heart. The sun shone cheerfully 
 into the room, and the youngest children were 
 having a romp on the floor; but nothing seemed 
 to dispel the despondent cloud from the brow of 
 the slender girl, who busily working with a wo 
 man's patience, had even in these sad moments, to 
 lay aside her sorrow, and to attend to the pressing 
 necessities of poverty. She brightened up a little, 
 however, when Mrs. Neville asked after each of 
 the children, and when Helen insisted that there 
 never was a sweeter little fellow than the baby, 
 which she took on her lap at once. Lucy also 
 thought that there were few better children, and 
 she began telling Mrs. Neville of some of their
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SA.CE,IiniOE. 221 
 
 endearing qualities. There were Laura and Susie 
 who were a great help to her. Laura could sweep 
 and dust and make the beds, and Susie always 
 washed the dishes, while Aleck and Tom brought 
 the water and kindling wood. "As for baby, 
 darling," continued Lucy, " he can only be funny 
 yet, and not very useful, but we all love him so." 
 
 "Baby darling," who was two years old, im 
 mediately showed his appreciation of these re 
 marks by sticking out his little bare toes towards 
 the fire and shouting loudly, "papa, papa." Tears 
 dimmed Lucy's eyes at the dear name, and little 
 Tom, stealing softly behind her, put his arms 
 round her and said soothingly, 
 
 " Don't cry, Lucy, I'll soon be a man, and then 
 I'll be papa for you." 
 
 Lucy drew him fondly to her side and brushed 
 back the hair from his pretty forehead. 
 
 "Oh," said she, "if I only could keep them 
 together a while, until they get a little older." 
 
 " Have you thought of any way that it might 
 be done ?" asked Mrs. Neville kindly. 
 
 " No, ma'am ; dear father left only a few dollars. 
 You know winter before last, when mother died, 
 he was sick nearly all the time, and the money 
 
 19 *
 
 222 HELEN MIA.CGHR.EGOR, ; OR, 
 
 he had laid up all went. Since then he could not 
 save much, for I am not the good housekeeper 
 that mother was." 
 
 " Still," said Mrs. Neville, " I think something 
 can be done ; we must hope and pray for the best. 
 I feel that you know to whom to go for strength 
 and help." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Lucy, " were it not for the 
 dear Saviour's help and guidance, I know I could 
 not succeed in anything. Dear papa said just be 
 fore he died, 'Lucy, my daughter, Jesus will never 
 forsake you. Pray to him.' And this morning it 
 seemed to me as I was thinking of those words, a 
 sudden hope filled my heart." 
 
 Helen's tears had flowed in sympathy with 
 Lucy's, and she said earnestly, " Don't you think, 
 Lucy, you could do enough plain sewing to buy 
 bread for these little ones ? You would not need 
 much more, for you have potatoes and apples put 
 away for all winter." 
 
 "I was thinking of that; and I might make 
 out, for the children could do the house work, if it 
 were not for the rent. I could not earn enough 
 to pay that too, and I have only twenty-five dol 
 lars."
 
 CONQUEST A-OSTD SACRIFICE. 223 
 
 " And winter is coming, and little feet require 
 shoes," said Mrs. Neville ; " but don't be discour 
 aged, Lucy ; we will see what can be done. All 
 these little ones are the children of 'the righteous,' 
 whom, the Psalmist declares, he has 'not seen 
 forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.'" 
 
 "Who is the landlord, Lucy?" Helen asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 " Mr. Nelson, and he is very strict." 
 
 " Mr. Nelson !" said Helen, almost clapping her 
 hands for joy. " Oh, then you can stay, Lucy ; 
 he will not ask you any rent." 
 
 "Helen," said Mrs. Neville, "do not cheer 
 Lucy with that thought. Mr. Nelson is, as Lucy 
 says, a strict landlord, and will require all the 
 rent." 
 
 Lucy sighed, but Helen only smiled. It seemed 
 impossible to her generous nature, that a man as 
 rich as Mr. Nelson should be anxious for the rent 
 of one poor cottage. Older persons, more worldly 
 wise than Helen, could have told her that the 
 poor, as a general rule, give more liberally in pro 
 portion to their ability, than the rich. But it is 
 hard to chill the ardent faith of youth. Mrs. 
 Neville's arguments on the way home did not
 
 224 HELEN MACGKREQOR; OR, 
 
 dampen Helen's zeal. She was too proud by 
 nature to ask a favor for herself; but for the 
 orphan little ones she had just left, she determined 
 to conquer her feelings, ana go early Monday 
 morning to Mr. Nelson herself. 
 
 Nora and Barbara shared Helen's 'enthusiasm; 
 and they had planned out together quite a life of 
 ease, for Lucy. They agreed to mend and make 
 all the children's clothes at their weekly Dorcas, 
 when they were unpleasantly reminded by Mrs. 
 Neville that Lucy could not earn enough to buy 
 the children new clothes, that there were not many 
 in Brookfield who gave out plain sewing, and 
 Mrs. Neville knew that it would take much ex 
 ertion on her part to induce those few to patronize 
 a girl as young as Lucy. She explained all this 
 to the girls, and thus suddenly demolished their 
 beautiful air-castles. This did not, however, com 
 pletely discourage them. They soon rallied again, 
 and set themselves busily to thinking. 
 
 " Never mind," said Nora, with a little sigh of 
 disappointment, " we will manage it somehow." 
 
 " I am sure we will," said Helen. 
 
 Busy as thought was, however, no conclusion 
 could be arrived at to raise money sufficient to buy
 
 CONQUEST A.^TD S^CRIiriCE. 225 
 
 shoes and comfortable clothes for the children the 
 next winter. 
 
 " If it were only summer time," said Barbara, 
 "we might raise vegetables in our gardens and 
 sell them." 
 
 But as it was not summer time, that would not 
 do. At length, after the supper dishes were 
 w r ashed, and Nora had said that she was almost 
 ready to give up, and Barbara had declared that 
 her head ached thinking, Helen said slowly, 
 
 " I know how we can do it." 
 
 " How ? how ?" eagerly inquired both girls. 
 
 But the plan Helen had thought of required an 
 amount of self-sacrifice that prevented her telling 
 it with all the joy that the others expected. For 
 the last two hours she had tried to banish the 
 thought as impracticable, and had only just now, 
 after a silent prayer for strength, made up her 
 mind to propose her plan. Mrs. Neville had 
 promised to buy them each a silk dress the coming 
 winter. Helen knew that these dresses were to 
 cost twelve dollars a piece ; and she knew that the 
 merino ones which they were to have had would 
 cost but six. Now the thought would intrude 
 itself that if each of the girls could only make up
 
 226 HELEN MACGKREQOR; OR, 
 
 her mind to be satisfied with the merinoes, there 
 would be a sum of eighteen dollars saved, which 
 would be enough to clothe the children comfort 
 ably. But then, Helen had never in her life had 
 a silk dress, and she had looked on Mary Rellim's 
 many a time with longing eyes. No one can ap 
 preciate what the sacrifice was to Helen, unless 
 like her, she is extravagantly fond of handsome 
 clothes. We all know how Helen, from the inju 
 dicious training of her childhood, had learned to 
 look on wealth and rank as everything. Through 
 the sweet teachings of gospel truth she had ceased 
 to care for the wealth of this world, and had placed 
 her treasure in heaven ; but many of Helen's faults 
 still clung to her; she sometimes found herself 
 lingering before the looking-glass and recalling 
 Dugald's praises ; and the idea of a silk dress had 
 filled her with delight. But Helen was now to 
 learn that "It is more blessed to give than to 
 receive." Every regret vanished as she met Mrs. 
 Neville's approving smile, and heard Nora's joyous 
 exclamation, 
 
 " Why, Helen, you are the queen of thinkers. 
 I never thought of the silk dresses ; how stupid 
 of met"
 
 CONQUEST AISTD SACRIFICE. 227 
 
 And that was true of Nora. Dress was always 
 a secondary consideration with her ; and she had 
 many a time gone to church in a calico without 
 caring in the least. Barbara's answer did not 
 come quite as readily as Nora's. Like Helen, 
 the first silk dress in anticipation had many at 
 tractions for her. But she would not hold back 
 alone, and so it was decided upon. Mrs. Neville, 
 however, suggested that Lucy would feel much 
 more comfortable if she worked for the money, 
 than if she received it as a gift ; and as she had 
 some sheets to make up she proposed giving them 
 to her to do at her leisure, paying her liberally in 
 shoes and clothes. This delighted the girls, and 
 in their minds Lucy was already fixed comfortably 
 for the winter. Not a doubt troubled them, as to 
 Mr. Nelson's answer. 
 
 Oh the generous faith of youth ! Would that 
 we all could carry more of its beauty and fresh 
 ness to the noontide of life, and to the evening of 
 age ! A perennial fount of blessing springing up 
 in the desert wastes of the world, never dried by 
 the heat of passion nor drained by the draughts of 
 selfishness and avarice !
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE REQUEST. 
 
 " He is not worthy to hold from heaven 
 The trust reposed, the talents given, 
 Who will not add to the portion that's scant, 
 In^ the pinching hours of cold and want." 
 
 rflHERE are some dispositions naturally patient ; 
 J- they can wait, and wait calmly, days, months, 
 and even years, for the attainment of a darling 
 wish. Others, naturally impatient, have, through 
 the all-powerful influence of religion, learned to 
 curb desire, and to imitate their divine Master. 
 Helen MacGregor was like the mountain stream 
 of her native land, swift and impetuous and im 
 patient of restraint. Years had not yet given to 
 her character that Christian completeness which the 
 Saviour's true disciples must eventually atedn. 
 Glad and joyous youth was hers, and youth is ever 
 impatient to overleap all obstacles and reach the 
 goal at once. Thus Helen entered the study on 
 Monday morning for the first time in weeks, with 
 
 228
 
 CONQUEST ^VNTD SACRIFICE. 229 
 
 a cloud on her brow. Mrs. Neville had refused 
 to let her go to Mr. Nelson's until after the study 
 hour in the afternoon. This was not much of a 
 trial, to be sure, but to Helen's disposition it was 
 a great disappointment. She had fully made up 
 her mind to start the first thing in the morning ; 
 and Helen had been her own mistress too long not 
 to feel keenly the least restraint. She entered the 
 study looking angry, and feeling rebellious. But 
 Helen knew well that it is the small, insignificant 
 acts and feelings, of every day, that go to swell the 
 long list of Christian virtues, or Christian failings. 
 Every evil thought conquered wins a smile from 
 heaven. And day by day to come out victors 
 through Christ, over the petty vexations of life, 
 shall at last place our feet on the golden pave 
 ment, and wreathe our brows with the crown im 
 mortal. Helen sat down at her desk with a bitter 
 feeling, but it did not last long. She saw lying on 
 her book two of Nora's choicest flowers. Sympa 
 thy is like the genial sunshine; it wakens into 
 beauty all our better feelings. Tears fell on 
 Helen's open geography, as she thought, "How 
 wicked, oh, how wicked I am, to get angry over 
 
 such a trifle. Dear Saviour, make me more 
 20
 
 230 HEXjElST MA-CGKREGOR,; OR,, 
 
 worthy of being thy child ;" and leaning her head 
 on the desk she prayed to be forgiven, and for 
 strength to overcome. The cloud was gone ; dis 
 pelled, as all the Christian's clouds must ever be, 
 by communion with her Saviour. 
 
 " Dear Nora," thought Helen, " how sweet she 
 is ; she wanted to cheer me, and so she picked her 
 choicest flowers for me." Helen looked up, and 
 catching Nora's eye she kissed the flowers, and 
 smiled her thanks. Nora returned the smile, 
 happy to think that Helen was once more herself. 
 And well was it for Helen that she overcame that 
 first disappointment in the right way, and sought 
 for grace and strength ; for that day was to con 
 tain many disappointments. Lessons and dinner 
 were at length over, and the quiet of the study 
 hour reigned in the little school-room. Helen 
 glanced impatiently at the clock. Only half an 
 hour more. Mrs. Neville had excused her from 
 sewing. Only half an hour. Helen's mind wan 
 dered from the lesson ; she looked out at the crim 
 son leaves flying before the wind, when suddenly 
 Mr. Nelson opened the gate. Helen could scarcely 
 believe it. Yes, it was he. She forgot the " quiet 
 rule," and exclaimed,
 
 CONQUEST A.JX~n SACRIFICE. 231 
 
 " Oh, there is Mr. Nelson now !" 
 
 Barbara looked out of the window, and then 
 resumed her grammar. Nora did not raise her 
 head from her slate. Helen continued, 
 
 "I wonder if I could go out and ask him 
 now?" 
 
 This was too much for Nora; in anxiety to 
 save Helen from disobeying, she exclaimed has 
 tily, 
 
 " Oh, don't, Helen ; mother will call you if she 
 thinks best." 
 
 " I wonder," began Helen, but Nora put her 
 finger on her lip, and bent once more over her 
 slate. 
 
 Helen smiled and nodded and sat down to her 
 lesson ; but she could not study ; she was expect 
 ing every minute to be called, and thinking what 
 she should say. But she had her trouble for 
 nothing; Mrs. Neville did not call her, and 
 Helen, with a sigh of disappointment, saw Mr. 
 Nelson go away. She watched him till he was 
 out of sight, and forgot to look at her book until 
 she was suddenly roused by Mrs. Neville's en 
 trance, and Barbara's exclamation as she ran out 
 of the room, " Study hour is over."
 
 232 HKLEIST M^CGJ-REGHDR; OR, 
 
 " Oh, why didn't you call me ?" asked Helen. 
 
 " Trust me, Helen," said Mrs. Neville ; " I 
 know Mr. Nelson best, and you will be more 
 likely to obtain your wish at Oakdale. Run now, 
 and get ready, and be back before dark. Why 
 do you not go out, Nora ?" 
 
 " I spoke during study hour," answered Nora, 
 with a deep blush. 
 
 Helen had got as far as the door, when these 
 words arrested her. Should she too, go back? 
 She stood a moment irresolute, only a moment, 
 and then she walked back and sat down by Nora. 
 Mrs. Neville looked surprised, but said nothing. 
 
 All disappointment, however, must have an 
 end, and at length Helen was fairly on the road 
 to Mr. Nelson's. The air was keen and bracing ; 
 the gardens were bright with marigolds, dahlias, 
 and scarlet sage ; the changing leaves dropped at 
 her feet, and as Helen MacGregor tripped lightly 
 along, she thought there never was a happier girl 
 than she. 
 
 Helen was going on in this happy way, when 
 she saw Mary Rellim coming towards her. She 
 looked at her admiringly, for Helen had not lost 
 her old taste for dress, although now it was only a
 
 CONQUEST AJSTD SACRIFICE. 233 
 
 secondary consideration with her. Since Barbara's 
 birth-day, Mary and Helen had been very good 
 friends, until the last few weeks. Helen had 
 noticed that Mary now never spoke to her when 
 she came to the cottage, unless to answer some 
 question, which she did in the shortest possible 
 manner. It worried Helen somewhat, and she 
 strove to speak kindly and if possible to overcome 
 Mary's dislike. She therefore greeted her very 
 cordially, but received only a cold return. Mary 
 knew at once that Helen must be going to Mr. 
 Nelson's, as she was so near there, and that gave 
 an additional haughtiness to her brow ; for it was 
 the great point of Helen's offending that she had 
 found favor at Oakdale. Mary had lived all her 
 life in Brookfield, and had never been inside, even, 
 of the grounds ; and yet, here was Helen, almost a 
 stranger, so intimate there. Mary had only heard 
 a few weeks before of Helen's sprained ankle ; and 
 she now glanced at her own handsome dress and 
 then at Helen's common delaine, and curled her 
 lip to think what poor taste the master of Oakdale 
 had. Poor Mary ! Poor even in her riches. 
 She was growing up with no thought beyond 
 
 dress. Her mind was occupied entirely with 
 20 *
 
 234 HELEN 3VTA.CQ-REGJOR; OR, 
 
 dreams of coming parties and gaieties, the last new 
 style of bonnets, and the gossip of the village. 
 What vain pursuits to occupy an immortal soul ! 
 No working for the Master; no self-denial for 
 that holy cause which brought a God from 
 heaven. 
 
 " Are all well at home ?" asked Helen kindly. 
 
 "Yes, very well, thank you. I suppose you 
 are going to Oakdale ?" 
 
 " Yes, and I must hurry too ; it gets dark so 
 soon now." 
 
 " Oh, you need not hurry there now, for Mr. 
 Nelson is out." 
 
 "Out?" exclaimed Helen, in a disappointed 
 tone, " I am so sorry. But then perhaps he will 
 not be gone long, and I may see him yet." 
 
 " You need not go," said Mary coldly, " he will 
 not be back while you wait." 
 
 "How do you know?" asked Helen incredu 
 lously. "I believe he will come, for he never 
 stays out late ; so I'll try." 
 
 Helen was starting off, but Mary caught her 
 arm. 
 
 " If you will persist in going, then I must tell 
 you that he went out because you were coming !"
 
 CONQUEST A1STD SACRIFICE. 235 
 
 " Went out because I was coming !" exclaimed 
 Helen amazed, " who told him I was coming ?" 
 then she added instantly, " I suppose Mrs. Neville 
 must have told him this morning." 
 
 "Yes, to be sure," said Mary, "so, come go 
 back with me." 
 
 " No, not now," said Helen. 
 
 "Why, you are not going down there, are 
 you?" 
 
 " No," said Helen sadly. 
 
 " Well, then, come with me." 
 
 But all Mary's coaxing could not move Helen, 
 and she was obliged reluctantly to let her go. 
 Helen longed to be alone. She ran on until she 
 reached the little woods, and throwing herself on 
 the ground she burst into a passionate fit of weep 
 ing. Who does not know how bitter it is to be 
 deceived for the first time? So disagreeable is 
 the truth that we long not to believe it. Helen 
 had, unconsciously, accorded to Mr. Nelson every 
 virtue. So truly moral was his character, that she 
 was apt to forget he was not a Christian ; and to 
 think that this wealthy gentleman should not be 
 willing to lose the rent of Lucy's poor cottage when it 
 was for such an object! For she felt convinced
 
 236 HELEIST nVE^CGKREGOH,; OR, 
 
 that Mr. Nelson had gone out to avoid a refusal. 
 Generosity was one of Helen's good traits. She 
 would give away the last mouthful she had to eat, 
 or the last precious thing she possessed, to gratify 
 another. No other fault, perhaps, would have so 
 raised her indignation. No, not her indignation ; 
 it was not anger that Helen felt, but keen and bit 
 ter disappointment. She had raised Mr. Nelson 
 on a pedestal in her imagination, and endowed 
 him with all good qualities, and it cut her to the 
 heart to think that this refined gentleman was 
 callous to the wants of the poor. Then came 
 some tears for the disappointment of poor Lucy. 
 And what was to become of the five little ones 
 through the long cold winter? Helen's old wish 
 for wealth came back again. "Yes," she thought, 
 " I would know how to use it better now, on the 
 poor and the sick. But I have not got it, and 
 wishing does not help poor Lucy. I must do all 
 I can without it. All I can ! What can I do ? 
 I can ask him. Yes, I will ask him. Let him 
 refuse, I can coax ; and perhaps he does not know 
 just how poor they are. No, I don't believe he 
 ever thought about it. Anyhow, I will do my 
 part," and jumping up, she started off at a brisk
 
 CONQUEST ^VISTD SACRIFICE. 237 
 
 pace. "I can wait. Poor little children, they 
 must have a home. But," she thought, suddenly 
 stopping, " God can do everything. I will go back 
 and ask him for wisdom and guidance." She hastily 
 ran back to the woods, and kneeling on the soft 
 green moss, asked the aid and blessing of the 
 loving Saviour, who bids us come to him in every 
 time of need. Helen felt reassured and comforted; 
 and stopping no more she soon reached Oakdale. 
 She was surprised when the servant told her to 
 walk at once into the library, as Mr. Nelson was 
 there. She had expected to wait for him, and this 
 sudden meeting took away all her courage. It 
 was one thing to resolve boldly, off in the woods, 
 quite another to execute when the time came. 
 The spacious hall and pompous waiter struck a 
 chill to her heart, and seemed to accuse her of pre 
 sumption; a young insignificant stranger, think 
 ing to influence the master of Oakdale! But 
 Helen had no time to think much ; the study door 
 was thrown open and Mr. Nelson advanced to 
 meet her. She was a little surprised at her cor 
 dial reception, but having once doubted, she 
 thought with a pang, " Is it possible he is hypo 
 critical too ?"
 
 238 HELEN MA-CGKREOOR; OR, 
 
 She took the offered seat, and said yes and no to 
 Mr. Nelson's questions ; but at length being un 
 able to think of any favorable beginning, she 
 introduced the subject at once, by saying tim- 
 idly, 
 
 " I know you do not wish to see me, Mr. Nel 
 son, but," 
 
 "Do not wish to see you, child?" said that 
 gentleman, in surprise, " I am always glad to see 
 you. I would like to keep that merry face always 
 at Oakdale." 
 
 " Well, then," said Helen, " I mean, I mean, 
 you do not like the errand that has brought me 
 here." 
 
 " Why, really, Helen," said Mr. Nelson laugh 
 ing, " I shall begin to think some of your own 
 fairies have carried off your senses." 
 
 "Oh, then," said Helen, looking up with a 
 bright smile and feeling much relieved, " then you 
 do not mind my asking you ?" 
 
 "I think it likely I can answer that ques 
 tion much better when I know what you are 
 going to ask." 
 
 " Why don't you know ?" asked Helen, looking 
 puzzled; "ah, then, perhaps it was because you
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 239 
 
 did not wish to see me that you went out, and not 
 because of my errand." 
 
 "Well, well, Helen, I think there must be 
 some grand mistake here. I have not been out 
 since this morning, I assure you, and I did not 
 know you were coming. Have some of the ser 
 vants been denying you admittance ?" 
 " Oh, no, not at all ; I have just come." 
 She stopped. She could scarcely bring herself 
 to believe that Mary Rellim had deceived her so 
 causelessly; and she wondered what her motive 
 could have been. But she did not think long. 
 Mr. Nelson was anxious to know what was the 
 matter. Helen generously refused to tell him who 
 had deceived her, but very much encouraged, be 
 gan her petition in Lucy's behalf. Helen, when 
 excited by a subject, usually spoke with the elo 
 quence which is native to the Highlanders, and 
 which often astonishes strangers. She pleaded for 
 the lonely orphans with impassioned earnestness ; 
 and Mr. Nelson allowed her to go on, without 
 giving any signs of approval. He loved to hear that 
 pleading young voice, and when Helen reverently 
 said that God would surely bless him for it, no 
 sneer curled his lip, but he bowed his head
 
 240 HELEN" MACGKRE&OR,; OR, 
 
 in silence before the pure trust of her childish 
 faith. 
 
 Helen waited for an answer. She had told him 
 of Lucy, so kind and motherly ; of all the endear 
 ing ways of the little ones, down to roguish Tom 
 and the baby; and she waited almost breathless 
 for the result. But Mr. Nelson seemed in no 
 hurry. He sat thinking for some time ; at length 
 looking up, he said abruptly, "Helen, I once 
 knew a lady who, whenever there was to be any 
 deed of charity done, went round and collected 
 money from different parties, and then sending it 
 in, in her name, as collected by her, she received 
 all the credit, and was not obliged to contribute 
 herself. Now what do you think of that?" 
 
 Helen smiled. " I think she ought to have 
 some credit for the trouble she took in collecting, 
 but I think she ought to have given something 
 herself, if she could afford to." 
 
 "Exactly. I think so too. Now, if I give 
 this cottage rent-free, for a year, what is Helen 
 going to give ?" 
 
 " I cannot give much," said Helen ; " you know 
 I am poor ; but I have given all I can." 
 
 " Come, come, Miss Helen ; I do not call that
 
 CONQUEST -A-ISTD SACRIFICE. 241 
 
 fair. If you know my almsgiving so well, I think 
 I have a right to know yours." 
 
 Helen blushed deeply. How could she tell him 
 of the silk dresses ? It would seem like such a 
 trifling thing to him. But Mr. Nelson insisted. 
 He felt a strong curiosity to know if this young 
 girl was as truly generous as she appeared ; and 
 Helen, finding that she could in no other way gain 
 her wish, told the simple story of the silk dresses, 
 giving Nora and Barbara an equal share of praise. 
 
 What was it in that little act of true charity 
 that called unwonted moisture to the eyes of the 
 master of Oakdale ? Perhaps it was the recollec 
 tion of an unbounded wealth, that never yet had 
 fed the hungry or cheered the desolate. 
 
 The short autumn day was drawing to a close, 
 and Helen rose to go. Mr. Nelson put his hands 
 on her shoulders, and looking kindly down into 
 the upturned face, said, 
 
 " It is all right, Helen ; I give Lucy the cottage 
 for two years ; and be sure and buy that wonderful 
 baby some shoes with this;" and he put a five 
 dollar note into her hand. 
 
 Helen thanked him warmly. Her full heart 
 went up in gratitude to God for all his blessings. 
 
 21 Q
 
 242 HELEN 
 
 She hardly knew how she got home. She scarcely 
 walked a step of the way, and on reaching the 
 door burst into the kitchen where Mrs. Neville 
 was preparing flannel cakes for supper, and Nora 
 was setting the table, almost breathless with run 
 ning and excited joy. 
 
 Certainly the home scene had been a very pleas 
 ant one before ; the fire-light shining on the white 
 dishes and bright tins, contrasting with the gathering 
 twilight of a cool fall evening ; but it seemed more 
 cheerful still, now, as Helen joyfully, and almost 
 hysterically, recounted what she called " her ad 
 ventures j" while Barbara laid aside her book to 
 listen, and Nora would pause, plate in hand, to 
 express her admiration of the five dollars, while 
 then* merry laughter drowned the pleasant sound 
 of the baking cakes. 
 
 Yes, no home can be happier than that which is 
 blessed by God, and whose pleasure springs from 
 doing good. 
 
 Laugh on, young cheerful hearts! Ye are 
 learning the pleasure that self-sacrifice alone can 
 give.
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE LITTLE SCHOOL. 
 
 " Be good, sweet child, and let who will be clever ; 
 
 Do noble things, not dream them, all day long ; 
 So shalt thou make life, death, and that vast forever, 
 One grand, sweet song." 
 
 Tommy, you must hold still and get 
 your hair combed," said Lucy Dean to her 
 refractory little brother who persisted in turning 
 his head first one side, and then the other ; " Miss 
 Helen will be here directly, and you couldn't half 
 learn your lessons with such rumpled hair." 
 
 " Yes I could, too ; I could learn just as fast." 
 
 "Oh, Tommy, what a naughty way to talk; 
 even if you could learn just as fast, Miss Helen 
 would not like to teach you, and what would you 
 do then?" 
 
 " Do !" said the little fellow, with a great flour 
 ish of his arms that knocked the brush out of 
 Lucy's hand, " why I'd play." 
 
 "Why, Tommy, ain't you ashamed? What 
 
 243
 
 244 HELEDST IMA-CGKREGJ-OR; OR, 
 
 will you be when you grow up, if you don't learn 
 now?" 
 
 " I'll be a dunce," answered Tommy, nothing 
 daunted. 
 
 All the children laughed, but Tommy persisted 
 in refusing to get ready for school ; so Lucy, after 
 a great deal of exertion, succeeded in getting him 
 into the next room, and at once locked him in. 
 There he kicked and screamed, and Lucy gave a 
 weary sigh ; she was at times almost tempted to 
 give up in despair, especially when Tommy got 
 one of his stubborn fits. But Lucy Dean did not 
 rely on her own strength, and the cloud soon van 
 ished from her brow. Her greatest earthly joy 
 was the friendship of Helen MacGregor. These 
 two girls, so different Lucy so calm and quiet, 
 Helen so ardent and impulsive yet cherished for 
 each other a warm regard. The most love was 
 certainly on Lucy's side, for Helen was Lucy's 
 dearest friend ; and Helen had already given the 
 first place in her friendship to Nora, Nora so 
 warm-hearted and so true, always so ready to help 
 and to sympathize. Together they had commenced 
 teaching the little Deans, for Lucy could not af 
 ford to pay for their schooling, and there were no
 
 CONQUEST AJXTD SA-CItlFICE. 245 
 
 free schools in Brookfield. One hour every after 
 noon these girls gave up of their leisure time; 
 and it was no small sacrifice, for the days were 
 getting short, and Christmas holidays were drawing 
 near, when they wanted all their spare time to pre 
 pare presents. Lucy was just hooking Laura's 
 dress, when some one knocked at the door. 
 
 " Why they've come too soon," said Susie, tak 
 ing an admiring look in the glass before she opened 
 the door. 
 
 Lucy started forward with a joyful face ; but it 
 was not Helen. Mary Rellim came in. Some 
 will wonder what took Mary to Lucy's humble 
 cottage ; and yet, strange to say, she was quite a 
 frequent visitor there. Love of admiration was 
 one of Mary Rellim's great failings, and she re 
 ceived the most undisguised admiration from the 
 simple children of the cottage. She loved to have 
 them gather around and praise her velvet hat and 
 silk dress. It was delightful to the vain girl to 
 have Laura long for such a lovely bracelet, or to 
 drink in Susie's flattering encomiums on her rosy 
 cheeks and white hands. Mary was dressed in 
 her new fall clothes, and she had come to be ad 
 mired ; so she felt rather disappointed at Lucy's 
 21 *
 
 246 HELEN lYTA-CGKREGOR ; OR, 
 
 saying, " I thought it was Helen," and that Susie, 
 instead of lingering by her side, as usual, sat down 
 in one corner and began studying diligently. 
 Laura was arranging some chairs, and Tom and 
 Aleck were absent. 
 
 "Are you going to take a walk, Mary ?" asked 
 Lucy, as, having quieted the baby with some play 
 things, she brought out her work and began to 
 sew. 
 
 " No, I only came round here a while. Do you 
 expect company ?" she asked, as she glanced at the 
 arranged chairs, and Laura's neatly braided hair. 
 
 "Only Helen and Nora," said Lucy. 
 
 " Oh," said Mary, with some scorn, " they are 
 such strangers, I suppose, that you have to make a 
 fuss over them." 
 
 "Not much of strangers," said Susie, laughing; 
 " why don't you know they come here every day 
 to teach us ? Helen calls this her little school." 
 
 Mary looked surprised; she knew that Helen 
 had joined the church, but she would not have 
 given her credit for a sacrifice which seemed enor 
 mous to her ease-loving disposition. 
 
 " I expect then she is quite a friend of yours, 
 Miss Susie?"
 
 CONQUEST .AJSTO SACRIFICE. 247 
 
 "Oh, I do love her dearly, she is so sweet." 
 
 " I like Nora the best," said Laura ; " but our 
 Tom will not mind Nora, because she laughs when 
 he says anything funny." 
 
 " I met Helen the other day going to Oakdale," 
 said Mary. 
 
 " Yes," said Lucy, " she is a great favorite there, 
 and I don't wonder." 
 
 " No, I don't wonder either," answered Mary ; 
 " any body who can flatter and cozen round, will 
 be liked by Mr. Nelson, ma says. Why, would 
 you believe it, she is always running there. The 
 other day, when I met her, it was getting quite 
 dark, and I don't doubt that she went there to 
 get invited to tea." 
 
 "Oh, Mary," said Lucy indignantly, "how can 
 you talk so ? I know she very seldom goes there ; 
 and the other afternoon she went for me." 
 
 " For you !" said Mary scornfully, " so you too 
 are a great friend of his, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes," answered Lucy with dignity, " I am a 
 great friend of his, although I have never spoken 
 to him ; a great friend of his, because he has given 
 me this cottage, rent free, for two years. And he 
 did it because Helen, noble and generous as she is,
 
 248 HETT^lggr MACOBECKm; OS, 
 
 asked him to do it ; and I heard old Wilkins the 
 gardener say that he would never have done it for 
 anyone else. And never," continued Lucy, as the 
 tears started to her eyes, "never say anything to 
 me against Helen MacGregor, for I love her, and 
 I will not listen to it" 
 
 All looked amazed to see the usually quiet Lucy 
 thus aroused, and Mary opened her lips to reply, 
 when she was interrupted by a knock at the door, 
 and Helen and libra entered. Nora looked slightly 
 annoyed when she saw Mary sitting there ; for al 
 though she, as well as Helen, intended becoming a 
 teacher, yet she did not wish her first attempts at 
 tearJiimr the multiplication table to such a refrac 
 tory pupil as Tommy, commented upon by so se 
 vere a critic; but seeing that Helen did not seem 
 to mind it, she too welcomed Mary cordially, and 
 seconded Helen's invitation to stay and see the 
 school exercises. 
 
 Mary, hardened as she was, could not help 
 blushing when she spoke to Helen; but Helen 
 seemed so utterly unconscious, and treated her so 
 kindly, that Mary came to the conclusion that she 
 had not suspected her ungenerous conduct, and felt 
 very much relieved. She soon became greatly
 
 " In bounds Helen dressed as a Highland maid." p. 205.
 
 CONQUEST AND SA-CItrFICE. 249 
 
 interested. Aleck came in just in time, and Tom 
 was brought from his prison in the back room, 
 where he had employed his time in looking 
 through the key-hole. Lucy had whispered to 
 Helen the cause of Tommy's punishment, with the 
 pathetic appeal, 
 
 " Do, dear Helen, do something with him ; I 
 can not manage him at all." 
 
 Tom took his seat in the class with a rather 
 downcast air, and turned very red, when Helen 
 said gravely, 
 
 " Have you just got up, Tommy ?" 
 
 "No, ma'am." 
 
 "Oh, then I expect you have not looked at 
 your hair yet ; or have you forgotten to brush it ? 
 Come here, I must brush it for you." 
 
 Tommy made some show of rebellion, but Helen 
 seemed so resolute, he thought best to submit. 
 
 " Now, Tommy, I must tell you," said Helen, 
 " that every time you come in school with your 
 hair unbrushed, I shall brush it for you." 
 
 Tommy walked to his seat with downcast eyes, 
 and did not see the laughing looks that were di 
 rected towards him, as he sat down entirely uncon 
 scious that his hair was parted in the middle!
 
 250 HELEN MACGKREQOR; OK,, 
 
 Helen had already gone when he discovered it, or 
 I am afraid she would have had rather an unruly 
 scholar. 
 
 Helen taught Aleck and Tommy their a-b, abs, 
 while Nora heard Laura and Susie spell. Then 
 they exchanged classes, and Helen gave the girls 
 addition sums on their slates, while Nora taught 
 the boys the multiplication table; then the last quar 
 ter of an hour was devoted to attempts at reading j 
 each being ambitious to learn to read the best and 
 soonest. This rivalry was principally between 
 Laura and Susie ; Laura was a year the elder, but 
 Susie was the smarter of the two, and indeed, per 
 haps, the brightest of the children. Tommy's bar- 
 berizing had detained them a little, so that Susie, 
 looking uneasily at the clock said, 
 
 " Indeed, Helen, if Laura don't read faster, I 
 shall not get to read." 
 
 "Wouldn't it do, if I were to hear her this 
 once, Helen ?" asked Mary timidly. 
 
 She had looked on with an interest entirely new 
 to her, and longed to take part. Susie pouted a 
 little, but Helen said kindly, 
 
 " Oh, if you only would, Mary, I should be so 
 much obliged."
 
 CONQUEST ^^rr> SACRIFICE. 251 
 
 Mary had a real talent for teaching, undis 
 covered and unknown to herself until that after 
 noon ; both teacher and pupil became so interested 
 in the pronunciation of hard words, that they con 
 tinued the lesson after school was dismissed. 
 
 "How I like you for a reading teacher," said 
 Susie, looking up into Mary's face. 
 
 Mary felt pleased. Perhaps for the first time in 
 her life the spoiled child of fortune had tried to 
 please another ; and so she answered laughingly, 
 
 " And I do love to teach ; I never tried it be 
 fore," 
 
 " I guess you would soon get tired of it," said 
 Lucy ; " lessons do not always go as smoothly as 
 that did ; I know a little girl that sometimes pouts, 
 and does not want to learn." 
 
 Susie smiled and looked shyly at Helen; and 
 then running up, and putting her arms around 
 her, she said coaxingly, 
 
 " You do not get tired of me, do you, Helen ?" 
 
 "No, not yet, at least," answered Helen. 
 
 " I do not think I should ever tire of teaching," 
 said Mary. 
 
 Helen looked at her; she saw that she was 
 pleased and interested, and the thought instantly
 
 252 HELE3ST MACGKREOOR, ; OR, 
 
 crossed her mind, that perhaps, if they could get 
 Mary to take part in this simple work, it might 
 lead her on to higher good; so she said smil 
 ing 1 ^ 
 
 "I wish I had another assistant teacher; I 
 think we could then introduce writing in the 
 higher classes. Would you like to aid us ?" 
 
 " Oh, I should love to come," said Mary eagerly, 
 all her jealousy and ill feeling gone in prospect 
 of the pleasure of this new employment. Helen 
 paused thoughtfully a moment, and then said, 
 
 " You will not think hard of it, Mary, if I say 
 that we must have punctual teachers ?" 
 
 Mary looked a little haughty at this assumption 
 of principalship, but Nora hastened to say, 
 . " Why, you know, Mary, it would put all our 
 lessons out of order the days you would stay away; 
 and we would not know what to depend on." 
 
 "Yes, so it would," said Mary frankly. "I 
 will come punctually." 
 
 Helen thanked her for her kind offer of assis 
 tance, which won Id be really valuable to them, 
 and then began to arrange for the next day's 
 school. Helen gave Susie to Mary to teach, know 
 ing that she was the smartest, and therefore would
 
 CONQUEST ANX> SA.CRIIPICE. 253 
 
 reflect the most credit on her teacher, and to en 
 courage Mary in her first efforts at self-denial. 
 
 This was the starting point of Mary Rellim's 
 improvement. Lucy prophesied that she would 
 be tired in a week ; and Mrs. Neville shook her 
 head gravely ; but Nora and Helen were hopeful, 
 and they were not disappointed. Mary had a 
 natural gift for teaching ; she felt that she did it 
 well, and " we all like to do what we know we do 
 well." Her old jealousy of Helen began to dis 
 appear. Unconsciously she learned to admire and 
 to imitate the Christian life of the two girls, with 
 whom she was now thrown in daily intercourse. 
 They did not talk much in school hours, but there 
 was the long walk home together after school, for 
 Lucy lived a little out of the village. 
 
 It is impossible for people to be brought con 
 stantly into each other's society without the stronger 
 influencing the weaker, and Mary Rellim soon 
 learned that Helen and Nora never gossipped, and 
 that she must not sneer at goodness in their pres 
 ence. They always had many other things to talk 
 of, besides dress, and Mary soon found herself get 
 ting into the same habits. 
 
 Oh, the blessed power of good influence ! Yv r ho
 
 254 HELEN 
 
 ean reckon up the thousands it has saved from 
 everlasting death ? Mrs. B-ellim had never troubled 
 herself much about her children, so that they be 
 haved genteelly, and kept out of mischief; but the 
 fondest mother could not have chosen for her 
 child better companions ; and many an evening 
 did Mary sit in the cottage planning over with 
 her youthful companions new schemes of improve 
 ment in the little school. And then, she too would 
 kneel with them in the evening worship. 
 
 " The massive gates of circumstance 
 
 Are turned upon the smallest hinge ; 
 And thus some seeming pettiest chance 
 Oft gives our life its after tinge." 
 
 Thus Mary's visit to the orphans' cottage was 
 overruled, in God's mercy, to her eternal good. It 
 was her first step in the path towards the narrow 
 road.
 
 XVIII. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 "We know 'tis good old winter should come, 
 Roving awhile from his Lapland home; 
 "Tis fitting that we should hear the sound 
 Of his reindeer sledge on the slippery ground." 
 
 MONTHS fly past on joy-tipped wings when 
 each hour brings its appropriate work and 
 leaves it well performed. Oh, happy industry! 
 Those alone who have learned thy pleasant ways 
 know how much happiness earth has for them. 
 Oh, how pitiable the lot of those children who 
 are brought up to do nothing! They carry the 
 misery of idleness with them through long years, 
 to throw a pall of discontent over all the fair 
 things of life. 
 
 The young girls of the cottage enjoyed their 
 play hours with all the sweeter zest, because they 
 could think with such lively satisfaction of neatly 
 mended clothes, of an orderly household, of the 
 
 hours given to faithful study, and to "heaven- 
 
 255
 
 256 HELE3ST M A-CGHEtEGJOR ; OR, 
 
 born charity." The autumn had passed away, and 
 left the memory of its many treasures aud pleasures 
 richly enjoyed. Study and work had both been 
 pursued with greater ardor as the cool weather ad 
 vanced, and began to reinvigorate their systems. 
 Home too, seemed dearer to the girls as the chilly 
 evenings made them welcome the closed windows 
 and cheerful fire. In summer time our homes 
 may be pleasant, but they lack the cosy comfort 
 of the fire-side. The little school had made good 
 progress. Writing had been introduced, and read 
 ing had become a pleasure. The refractory had 
 been reduced to good order, and the teachers had 
 learned to take the warmest interest in the im 
 provement of their little scholars. They had had 
 their long delightful walks in the lovely sunshine 
 of Indian summer, when they gathered the last 
 relics of earth's decaying splendor, the brilliant 
 leaves of the forest, or the last hardy flowers of 
 fall ; when they watched the squirrels in the almost 
 uncovered woods, and trod with rustling step 
 amidst the thick dead leaves. Then there had 
 been the storing away of hickory-nuts and apples 
 for the long winter evenings ; and the chestnuting 
 times when Nora would come in exclaiming that
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 257 
 
 she had " never enjoyed such a day in her life." 
 The autumn had indeed been a very happy one. 
 But now old white-headed winter had assumed his 
 authority and brought along with him the usual 
 amount of sleigh-riding and snow-balling. It was 
 only two weeks from Christmas, and the sewing 
 hours for all that time were to be given up to the 
 making of presents. 
 
 The short December day was waning. Helen, 
 Barbara, and Nora, each drew their chairs closer 
 to the window to take advantage of the few re 
 maining moments of daylight, and conversed in 
 very low tones, so as not to disturb Mrs. Neville 
 who was writing at another window. There 
 seemed to be an unwonted sadness over the little 
 group ; and Nora every now and then would stoop 
 over and kiss Helen's cheek, saying, in a half 
 mirthful, half sad tone, 
 
 " I am going to take as many kisses now as I 
 can get, while I have you here." 
 
 And Helen would laughingly reply that she 
 had not gone yet. Yes ; a change was brooding 
 over the happy inmates of the cottage. They 
 were to separate. But we will read Mrs. Neville's 
 letter for an explanation. 
 22 * B
 
 258 HERETO" MACGKREQOR; OR, 
 
 It ran thus : 
 
 DEAR SISTER STELLA, You will wonder, I dare say, at my 
 writing this letter ere I receive an answer to my last, knowing 
 that I am such a poor correspondent. Do not be at all alarmed 
 though; there is nothing serious the matter, neither have I re 
 ceived, what you remember in my school girl days I was always 
 wishing for, the pen of Madame de Sevigne'. No; I simply want 
 what Sheridan once called the worst of all vices, advice. And 
 therefore I come to you, my more than sister, for did you not 
 through long years give me a mother's love and care ? So as you 
 have spoiled your sister by making her depend so much on you, 
 you must go on through life, still bearing the burden of her trou 
 bles, and still advising. 
 
 You do not know our Helen, excepting, that is, by letter. You 
 have heard who she is, how she came to be with us, and how we 
 all have learned to love her. Her happy, generous disposition 
 you cannot appreciate without living with her. She has endeared 
 herself to us all, and to part with her would be a keen sorrow ; 
 but you know we are not wealthy, and Helen, like my own dear 
 girls, must expect to earn her own livelihood when she is old 
 enough to teach, that is, if she remains with me. But a home of 
 wealth, a life of ease, has been offered to our Scotch girl. You 
 remember Mr. Nelson, our rich, eccentric landlord ? From the 
 very first he took a strong liking to Helen, and he now wishes to 
 adopt her as his own daughter. The dear child cannot bear to 
 think of leaving us, but she has left the matter entirely in my 
 hands. The question is, what ought I to say ? Mr. Nelson is a 
 perfect gentleman, upright and moral, but alas ! he is not a Chris 
 tian. Helen thinks a great deal of him. May there not be dan 
 ger that he will lead her young feet out of the narrow way, into 
 the deep waters of his own cold skepticism ? And yet, on the 
 other hand, ought I to deprive Helen of the comfort and advan-
 
 CONQUEST A.TJTD SACRIFICE. 259 
 
 tages that wealth gives ? She is to receive, if she goes there, 
 every opportunity of a liberal education. And then too, I some 
 times wonder if God may not be sending her there for his own 
 good purposes, perhaps even to lead the master of Oakdale, by the 
 example of her simple faith, to the foot of the cross. For is it not 
 written " out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast per 
 fected praise ?" And may she not one day teach him that wealth 
 is a sacred trust, to be used in helping the poor and in spreading 
 the glad tidings of salvation ? Six months ago I should have 
 answered unhesitatingly, no ; but Helen has since then learned to 
 care little for earthly treasures; she has found the priceless pearl; 
 and each day seems to add to her Christian firmness and spiritual 
 growth. Nora and Barbara are quite disconsolate at the idea of 
 losing their companion. What shall I do ? But you cannot judge 
 well without knowing Helen. Come, then, and pay us that long 
 promised visit. Do come. Mind, I will take no refusal. Tell 
 father he must go over to Edith's, and stay till you come back; 
 I know it is useless to ask him to come so far in this cold 
 weather. 
 
 Nora and Barbara send grandpa and aunt Edith and cousin 
 Stella a great deal of love ; they will not send aunt Stella any, as 
 they expect to see her soon, and give it to her fresh from their rosy 
 lips. December sunlight tarries such a little while, I can scarcely 
 see to finish this. Come soon, and give our cottage the sunshine 
 of aunt Stella's smile. With much love, 
 
 Your affectionate sister 
 
 REBECCA. 
 
 Two weeks passed away without bringing a 
 reply to this letter, either in the shape of aunt 
 Stella, or her hand-writing. Mr. Nelson waited 
 impatiently for the answer Mrs. Neville delayed
 
 260 HBIjEOST MACGKREGOR; OR,, 
 
 to give. In the meantime, he showed special 
 kindliness of feeling towards Helen and the girls, 
 appreciating their tender relationship, and desiring 
 if possible to reconcile Helen the more readily to 
 the proposed change, if it should be finally agreed 
 upon. Thus the day before Christmas he drove 
 up to Mrs. Neville's door in a fine sleigh with 
 prancing horses and ringing silver bells, to take 
 the whole party sleigh-riding. Mrs. Neville de 
 clined going, but the three girls were in high glee, 
 and enjoyed the ride as only girlhood can. They 
 took supper at a hotel in the next village some ten 
 miles off, and returned by brilliant moonlight. 
 Just as the party reached home, and before the 
 sleigh had fairly stopped, Nora exclaimed, 
 
 " Oh, aunt Stella has come ! Aunt Stella has 
 come! I'm certain. Didn't you see the man 
 just come out of the gate? he has been taking in 
 her trunk," and barely giving Mr. Nelson time to 
 lift her out she ran towards the house. Barbara 
 followed swiftly, and Mr. Nelson, holding Helen 
 a moment whispered, 
 
 " Do not let them decide against me, my child." 
 
 Helen said nothing ; but for the first time she 
 
 wished to go to Oakdale. The solitary life of its
 
 CONQUEST -A.ND SACRIiniCK. 261 
 
 master rose before her, cheered by no loving voice; 
 not even solaced by the Saviour's love, or the joy 
 that religion sheds over the most desolate sur 
 roundings. 
 
 " After all," she thought, as she walked slowly 
 up the garden path, "we are not to do just what 
 we like best in this world. Mr. Ashton used to 
 say that each had a life-work; perhaps this is 
 mine, and I will try and not shrink from it. 
 Surely, living an easy life, in a handsome home, 
 can be no hard lot. I remember well the time 
 when I would not have hesitated. But then I did 
 not know the Nevilles. Kind, motherly Mrs. 
 Neville ; dear, studious, quiet, Barbara, and dar 
 ling, lovely Nora ! I almost hope they will say 
 no." 
 
 Helen lingered a few minutes, enjoying the 
 beautiful night. She almost dreaded to go in; 
 she had heard so much about this favorite aunt, 
 that she rather feared to meet her. She could re 
 main outside, no longer, however, for Nora came 
 in search of her ; and taking her in, with her arm 
 around her, she said, 
 
 " This is our sister Helen, auntie, and you are 
 to decide that she shall not go away from us."
 
 262 HELEN MA.CGH1EQOR,; OR, 
 
 Helen felt the warm lingering kiss and heard a 
 sweet voice say, " another niece to be loved," and 
 looking up into the kindly face above her, she felt 
 that Nora's extravagant praise of her aunt had not 
 been too freely bestowed. 
 
 Miss Stella Ashton was past middle age, but 
 she looked much younger. " The peace of God 
 which passeth all understanding," dwelt in her 
 heart, and shed its hallowing light over her whole 
 countenance. Her hair was black and glossy, and 
 her dark eye had lost none of its youthful bril 
 liancy. The mouth was firm, and spoke of duty 
 fulfilled at all hazards; but the genial smile so 
 seldom left the lip, that this was scarcely noticed. 
 It was, as Nora always said, "aunt Stella's own 
 smile." 
 
 " But how did you know I was here ?" asked 
 aunt Stella, after their bonnets and cloaks had been 
 laid aside, and the merry group had gathered 
 round the fire. 
 
 " Just as if we didn't know you would come on 
 Christmas eve, like a Christmas present!" said 
 Nora, archly. 
 
 "You must have had something more certain 
 to judge by than the whimsical notions of this
 
 CONQUEST A-ND SA.CRIB'ICIi:. 263 
 
 little head," said aunt Stella, giving Nora's short 
 curls some caressing pulls. 
 
 "Yes," said Barbara, "we saw the man come 
 out who brought your trunk." 
 
 " I do not think you saw so much as that, my 
 dear, for my trunk is still at the depot." 
 
 " Still at the depot !" repeated Barbara, as 
 tonished. 
 
 " But we certainly saw a man come out," said 
 Helen. 
 
 "I think it very likely you did," said Mrs. 
 Neville smiling, "for there certainly was a man 
 here." 
 
 "Now, mother," said Nora laughing, "I know 
 you just want to make us curious ; and I am not 
 going to ask any questions, to show my curiosity, 
 but I shall just run out in the kitchen and take a 
 look round." 
 
 Barbara and Helen followed her and they soon 
 returned, carrying a small box on which was writ 
 ten, " For the three bonny lasses of the cottage, 
 Christmas, 185 ." It was from Oakdale, as they 
 had expected, and contained three handsome silk 
 dresses. 
 
 Mr. Nelson it seemed, had not forgotten the
 
 264 HELEN 
 
 history of their first silks. Now, indeed, they felt 
 that their slight self-sacrifice had been more than 
 repaid. Their spontaneous expression was one of 
 sincerest thankfulness to their kind and generous 
 friend. The box also contained a short note for 
 Mrs. Neville, begging her to let the girls receive 
 the dresses as a token of the sincere admiration 
 with which he had heard of their ready sacrifice 
 of self. Mrs. Neville allowed them to keep the 
 dresses, but she did not show them the note. 
 
 Christmas day was very happily spent. Love 
 tokens were continually coming and going. Lucy 
 and her little flock were not forgotten in the gene 
 ral rejoicing. Two or three warm dresses with 
 turkey and mince pies found their way from Mrs. 
 Neville's cottage to Lucy's. Aunt Stella's pre 
 sence added another charm to Christmas; and 
 when her trunk arrived in the afternoon, and 
 grandpa's presents as well as her own were dis 
 tributed, pleasure reigned supreme. Each one 
 sank to sleep that night with a prayer of thanks 
 giving on her lips to that God, who to the mani 
 fold gifts of our daily life added the ygt greater 
 gift of his only Son.
 
 XIX. 
 
 ANOTHER HOMJS. 
 
 " It is not much the world can give 
 
 With all its subtle art, 
 And gold and gems are not the things 
 
 To satisfy the heart; 
 But oh, if those who cluster round 
 
 The altar and the hearth, 
 Have gentle words and loving smiles, 
 
 How beautiful is earth !" 
 
 THIGHTEEN months had passed away, and 
 -L^ lovely June, the crown of summer, smiled in 
 beauty over hill and dale. The warm sunshine 
 lit into beauty the grand old oaks and bent the 
 fair heads of the myriad flowers around the white 
 stone house ; and Oakdale looked very lovely. 
 
 The hall door opened, and Helen ran lightly 
 down the broad marble steps and through the long 
 avenue, then looked anxiously down the road. 
 The same Helen as of yore, only a little taller and 
 more womanly. But her eye still had its trusting 
 look, her long dark curls still floated free, only 
 
 23 265
 
 266 HELEN MA.CGHIEGK)R,; OR-, 
 
 bound to the head by a scarlet ribbon. The deli 
 cate folds of a white India muslin, which touched 
 the ground, made her look rather taller than she 
 really was. 
 
 "I wonder why they do not come?" she ex 
 claimed a little impatiently; " it is quarter of three, 
 and I shall give Nora a good scolding ; I told her 
 to be here at half-past two, and to think I sent the 
 carriage so as to hurry them !" And Helen 
 turned away, and began walking up and down the 
 stately avenue whose thick trees only admitted the 
 sunlight in brilliant patches. 
 
 For the last sixteen months Helen had lived at 
 Oakdale. Many bitter tears had been shed at 
 parting with the dear ones at the cottage ; and it 
 was some time before Mrs. Neville could believe 
 that her sister's advice was best that Helen had 
 no right to shrink from the destiny that seemed 
 marked out for her. The three girls were almost 
 inconsolable at the thought of separation ; and none 
 the less, surely, after it had been accomplished. 
 Nora and Barbara often looked at Helen's vacant 
 desk with tears and ill suppressed sighs. They 
 missed her everywhere, and most at the daily 
 tasks which she had always shared with them.
 
 CONQUEST ^VND S^CKIFICE. 267 
 
 And as Mr. Nelson listened with a pleased smile 
 to Helen's light footstep on the stair case, or her 
 song in the hall, he rejoiced that this vision of 
 youth had come to cheer the gloomy old house, 
 without knowing that Helen sighed as she sang ; 
 that she never trod the marble hall, or sat down 
 in the luxurious chair to repeat her lessons to her 
 governess, without a yearning wish for Nora's 
 cheerful face and comical answers, or Barbara's 
 quiet smile. But time is a great consoler ; 
 and when sixteen months had passed away they 
 had become used to being apart, although during 
 that time they saw each other almost daily. 
 
 Two things Helen had insisted upon as condi 
 tions of her acceptance of Mr. Nelson's offer ; and 
 to both he had given a rather reluctant consent. 
 The first was, that she should never be obliged to 
 give up her little school until the children left to 
 earn their own living ; the second, which was sug 
 gested by aunt Stella, was that she should be per 
 mitted to read him a chapter in the Bible every 
 night before retiring. Both duties had been 
 strictly fulfilled. Thus it happened that they met 
 so frequently, and Helen nearly always stopped at 
 the cottage on her way back. On the afternoon
 
 268 HELEN" IM^LCGHtEGOR,; OR, 
 
 now introduced, she was expecting them all there 
 to tea. I say all, as she included Mrs. Neville 
 and aunt Stella, who was again at the cottage on a 
 visit. The clock struck three, and Helen gave an 
 impatient sigh, just as the carriage rolled in at the 
 gate. 
 
 " Oh, Nora !" she exclaimed, as they were get 
 ting out, "I think you richly deserve a good 
 scolding. Here I have been tiring myself out, 
 walking up and down the avenue, and wearing out 
 my neck looking over the gate ; and you said you 
 would hurry them all off!" 
 
 "Don't, please don't scold me," said Nora 
 laughing ; " it was all aunt Stella's fault." 
 
 " Yes," said aunt Stella, " I plead guilty to the 
 charge, and I shall expect the clemency of the 
 court when I make my confession." 
 
 "But I warn you, Aunt Stella," said Helen 
 merrily, " that if the excuse is not good, you shall 
 have the severest punishment the law allows. 
 Why, did I not put aside all lessons at twelve 
 o'clock, and have dinner a half hour earlier, which 
 made Mr. Nelson say, ' Helen, my child, I shall 
 begin to be jealous of those special friends, if you 
 do not take care?' Oh, you need not look grave,
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 269 
 
 my sage Nora ; it Is very seldom I exercise my 
 authority; and I generally study even to suit 
 you." 
 
 " How is Mr. Nelson ?" asked Mrs. Neville. 
 
 " He is very well, thank you ; but he said he 
 would not join us until supper time ; he has some 
 thing to attend to." 
 
 All this time the guests had been removing 
 their things in Helen's own room. When they 
 had concluded, Helen proposed going down to the 
 dell and sewing under the trees. This was unani 
 mously agreed to, Nora saying that it did not seem 
 like work to her to sew out of doors. 
 
 Nothing could be lovelier than that shaded grove 
 on that warm afternoon. The air swept through 
 the branching oaks with refreshing coolness, and 
 the little cascades splashed and murmured in sweet 
 harmony with the birds' songs. They found camp 
 stools awaiting them, and each one took out her 
 sewing and seated herself comfortably for a social 
 afternoon. Conversation has a rare charm when 
 carried on intelligently and well; and busy fin 
 gers and busy tongues add wings to time. The 
 sun was nearing the west, and sending his long 
 crimson rays deep into the midst of the dell, 
 
 23 *
 
 270 HELEN MA.CGR.EGOR; OR, 
 
 making the modest little stream blush with even 
 greater beauty. 
 
 " How lovely it is here," said aunt Stella, gazing 
 around. It was her first visit to Oakdale. 
 
 "Yes," said Barbara; "here is where we ate 
 our dinners the first pic-nic we ever had to 
 gether." 
 
 "Rather a small pic-nic," said Mrs. Neville, 
 " only three persons." 
 
 " Oh, I forgot to tell you," said Helen, that 
 I have named this charming spot. Mr. Nelson 
 told me to do so and then afterwards he laughed 
 at my choosing such a gloomy name." 
 
 " Why, what did you call it ?" asked Nora. 
 
 "'Cypress Dell.' Don't you see those three 
 cypresses? And somehow, when I come here 
 alone it does seem very gloomy." 
 
 " You must have been thinking of old funeral 
 rites, Helen," said Mrs. Neville, " when they used 
 cypress as their emblem of gloom." 
 
 " I was reading only the other day," said Bar 
 bara, "that the coffins containing the Egyptian 
 mummies were nearly all made of cypress wood." 
 
 " Yes, but I suppose that was on account of its 
 durability," said her aunt.
 
 CO1STQTJEST AND SACRIFICE. 271 
 
 "Well, I never thought much about funeral 
 customs until the other day, when Mr. Nelson 
 began talking of them. I took it for granted 
 nearly everybody was buried in the same general 
 way, except in those countries where they burn the 
 dead." 
 
 "But you certainly remember, Helen," said 
 Nora, " when we heard Dr. Scudder tell of the 
 Togas, who used to kill six buffaloes every time a 
 chief died, and just as many as the family could 
 afford, for an ordinary person's funeral? Because 
 they thought buffaloes' blood was necessary for 
 them in the next world." 
 
 "Yes, I remember it now, but I had not 
 thought of it since." 
 
 " But what did Mr. Nelson say, Helen ?" asked 
 Barbara, who was always eager to hear facts and 
 incidents. 
 
 " Why, he was telling me about the Chinese in 
 California. You know he spent two years there. 
 He says that when a rich Chinaman dies, the 
 priest always goes to the house, dressed in his 
 robes, kneels down on the pavement and prays for 
 his departed soul ; and all the time he is praying, 
 he burns what they call josh sticks, little sticks
 
 272 HELEN IM^VCGKREGJOR, ; OR, 
 
 about a foot long made of rosin, tar, and other 
 combustible substances." 
 
 " Does he really kneel right out on the pave 
 ment ?" asked Nora. 
 
 "Yes, on the pavement; but only when they 
 have money to pay for such a display. Then they 
 have a grand feast at the house, and at the grave 
 too; everybody carries something along to eat. 
 But I think the most curious part of it is, that 
 after the person has been buried a while they take 
 up his bones and send them in a box to China. 
 Every Chinaman's bones are sent back to his own 
 country. There they keep them a while and then 
 rebury them." 
 
 "Well I never heard anything so strange as 
 that," said Nora. 
 
 "Not so very strange, my child," said Mrs. 
 Neville; "they are sent out to this country by 
 companies in China, and they must be accounted 
 for ; I suppose that is one reason why their bodies 
 are required. But I can tell you something 
 stranger than that. There is a nation in Asia, I 
 cannot remember the name now, that keep small 
 dogs to eat up their dead ; and these dogs are held 
 very sacred."
 
 CONQUEST A.NTD SACRIFICE. 273 
 
 " Oh, dear !" said Barbara, with a sigh of relief, 
 " how glad I am that I live in a country where 
 they bury people rightly." 
 
 "Better be thankful, my dear girl, that you 
 live in a country where the religion of Jesus 
 teaches us how to live, so that we may have part 
 in the first resurrection. What becomes of the 
 body after death, matters little." 
 
 "Mother," said Barbara, "I was wondering 
 some time ago, if, after the resurrection of Laza 
 rus, people did not ask him a great many ques 
 tions about what he saw when he was dead. Do 
 you not think they must have done so ?" 
 
 " I think it is very probable they did, for 
 human nature was the same then as it is now; 
 but I very much doubt if he told them, even if he 
 had the power, as we have no record of it." 
 
 " How I should like to have seen him," said 
 Helen. " Somehow, I think he must have been 
 different from others, after coming to life again." 
 
 "Why, aunt Stella and I were talking about 
 that very thing last week," said Nora, " and auntie 
 repeated to me some verses she had written on 
 it." 
 
 " Not on his resurrection exactly, my dear, but
 
 274 HELEN lYTACGHtEOOR.; OR, 
 
 on the Jewish tradition, which says, that Lazarus 
 was never known to smile afterwards; that neither 
 anger nor sorrow nor in fact any human passion 
 ever afterwards ruffled his brow; but that he 
 lived perfectly calm and serene always." 
 
 " Do repeat the verses for us, aunt Stella," said 
 Helen eagerly. 
 
 " I will ; but I must tell you, they are written 
 in imitation of Mrs. Hemans's poem on the death 
 of the Prince of Wales." 
 
 "HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN." 
 
 " Come forth !" A calm voice broke the air, 
 
 As sweet as music deep, 
 As thrilling as the wind-kissed harp 
 
 The wand'ring breezes sweep. 
 It pierced the marble ear of Death, 
 
 And broke his icy chain : 
 Lazarus came forth to life and love, 
 
 But never smiled again. 
 
 " Come forth !" The dread of human hearts 
 
 Bowed to a mightier One ; 
 Death yielded up his conquered crown 
 
 To God's eternal Son. 
 Lazarus awoke on earth once more, 
 
 To all earth's joy and pain ; 
 But the voice of God had waked him, 
 
 " He never smiled again."
 
 CONQUEST -A.NT> SACRIFICE. 275 
 
 He met dear friends, the loved of years, 
 
 In halls of festive mirth; 
 Fame's wreath,unsought for,pressed his brow; 
 
 He turned from dreams of earth. 
 His eye had gazed on unknown shores, 
 
 His heart had felt death's chain, 
 His lips had said farewell to life, 
 
 " He never smiled again." 
 
 He came from realms where spirits meet 
 
 Homes of the mighty dead; 
 He kept within his heart the charm 
 
 Immortal joy had shed. 
 His soul still dwelt in that far land, 
 
 Still heard its music's strain ; 
 What were earth's deepest joys to him ? 
 
 " He never smiled again." 
 
 Calm as the calmest mountain lake 
 
 In some sequestered spot ; 
 Pure as the stream in eastern lake, 
 
 Which meets but mingles not; 
 Cold as the flash of jewels bright; 
 
 Sad as remembered strain; 
 He knew earth's greatest mystery, 
 
 "He never smiled again." 
 
 "I should like to have been Lazarus," said 
 Barbara, " for he need never have been afraid to 
 die." 
 
 " And surely we need none of us be afraid to
 
 276 HELEHST MA-CGKREGOR,; OR, 
 
 die, if we, like Lazarus, have the Saviour for our 
 friend," said Mrs. Neville. 
 
 "'Jesus can make the dying bed 
 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are.' " \/ 
 
 "I am sure," said Helen, "I would like to 
 write poetry as well as aunt Stella does. But then 
 we cannot have everything we wish." 
 
 " And what is it Helen wishes for ?" asked Mr. 
 Nelson, coming up in time to hear the last sen 
 tence. 
 
 "Something that even you cannot give me," 
 said Helen laughing, "a talent for writing 
 poetry." 
 
 " Yes, that passes my powers of giving," said 
 he, laying his hand caressingly on Helen's head. 
 "Now if you will allow a drone in this busy 
 hive," he continued, " I will take a seat." 
 
 "Well, as you have sat down by me," said 
 Nora, "I give you fair warning, you will have to 
 thread all my needles; and I use a great many, as 
 I am working this slipper in so many colors." 
 
 " Very well, I will try it a while, and if I get 
 tired, I suppose I shall be permitted to change my 
 seat ! Did Helen give you the promised scolding 
 that she threatened ?"
 
 CONQUEST A.NT> SACRIFICE. 277 
 
 "Not yet," said Nora laughing, "for I have 
 Eve's propensity of throwing the blame on some 
 one else." 
 
 " True enough," said Helen, " that just makes 
 me think, aunt Stella, you have not made your 
 excuses yet." 
 
 "Well then," said aunt Stella, "suppose I be 
 gin now. I went round to see your friend Lucy 
 Dean. You know she has been trying to get a 
 place for Laura, as she is quite a large girl now ; 
 and I thought if Lucy was willing, I would take 
 her home with me." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad," said Helen ; " I wanted 
 her to get a kind home, she is such a sensitive 
 child. What did Lucy say ?" 
 
 " She was very glad, although she said it would 
 be hard to part with Laura; so I promised I 
 would bring her with me every time I came, if it 
 was possible. But I must confess I took a greater 
 fancy to Susie, she seemed so quick." 
 
 "Yes," said Nora, "Susie is very nice; I do 
 hope that she too will get some place where the 
 people will take an interest in her." 
 
 "And give her an opportunity to improve," 
 said Helen. 
 
 24
 
 278 HELEN M-A-CGKREGOR; OR, 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted by the 
 sound of the tea-bell, and the rising of Mr. Nel 
 son inviting the party to the house. 
 
 "I am sorry Mary Rellim is not here," said 
 Helen, as they were leaving the dell. 
 
 "And to think, she is a hundred miles away, 
 and does not know we are wishing for her," said 
 Nora. " How does she like her school ?" 
 
 " Very much," answered Helen ; " I got a let 
 ter from her only yesterday; I will show it to you 
 after supper. She complains a little of having to 
 study too hard. I do like Mary very much ; she 
 is so different from what she used to be." 
 
 "Helen," said Mr. Nelson in a low tone, as 
 they were going up the steps together, " wouldn't 
 you like to take Susie? If you would, take her, 
 my child, by all means. I have no objection." 
 
 Helen gave him a joyous glance, and said in a 
 subdued tone, "Thank you, father." 
 
 Mr. Nelson was more than repaid by hearing 
 Helen's girlish voice call him father ; which it so 
 seldom did, that the charm never wore off" for the 
 solitary man. He was certainly much changed. 
 Mrs. Neville had noticed it. He was more genial, 
 and the sneer of unbelief which usually deformed
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 279 
 
 his mouth, was now much rarer. Helen was 
 throwing some of her own generous faith into the 
 worldly life of her protector. 
 
 The evening was spent in pleasant amusement. 
 Nora and Barbara played duets on the piano ; 
 and Helen played on the harp, and sang many 
 pieces, both new and old, for she now had a sing 
 ing master, and seldom played or sang the wild 
 songs of her mountain home, unless on stormy 
 evenings at Mr. Nelson's request, when he said 
 they chimed with his feelings. And often when 
 the wild sweet notes were dying away, Helen 
 would take her little Bible, and sitting down by 
 his side would almost whisper, 
 
 " Father dear, you are sad to-night ; I will read 
 you some consolation from the blessed Book." 
 
 And what would be the thoughts of that worldly 
 heart, as the Saviour's divine invitations smote the 
 ear ? Did it reply, with Agrippa, " Almost thou 
 persuadest me to be a Christian?" or, like the 
 rich man in the parable, "Soul, thou hast much 
 goods laid up for many years ; take thine ease ?" 
 Were the memories of childhood busy ? Did the 
 sunlight of other days picture to his recalling vision 
 his baby form, as it knelt and lisped its first
 
 280 HELEN IkLA-CGHtEOOR. 
 
 prayer? Did he hear his mother's voice urging 
 him to come to Jesus ? Helen never knew. He 
 did not object to her reading, but he made no 
 comment on itj and Helen, softly closing the 
 Book, would kiss his brow, and retire to her own 
 room to pray earnestly that God's Holy Spirit 
 would touch that stony heart, and send it a weep 
 ing supplicant to the foot of the cross.
 
 XX. 
 
 A1T 
 
 "Whatever passes as a cloud between 
 The eye of faith and things unseen, 
 Causing that bright world to disappear, 
 Or seem less lovely or its hopes less dear, 
 This is our world, our idol, though it wear 
 Affection's impress, or devotion's air." 
 
 " TT is all right, Lucy, you need not worry about 
 J- that," said Helen, as they were parting at the 
 gate of the avenue ; for Lucy had walked home 
 with Helen after school. " Mr. Nelson told me I 
 was to do just as I pleased about everything, and 
 you need never speak about rent. Anyhow, the 
 two years will not be up until October, and 
 this is only July. Won't you come in, and see 
 Susie?" 
 
 " No, not this afternoon ; Aleck wanted me to 
 hurry back, as he wishes to go and see the gentle 
 man Mr. Nelson spoke to, about that place in his 
 store. I am so much obliged to you, Helen." 
 
 24 * 281
 
 282 HELEN JVLA-CGHtEQOR; OR, 
 
 "Now hush, Lucy; you know I will not allow 
 that. Good-bye until to-morrow." 
 
 "Good-bye," said Lucy, turning away and 
 giving a little sigh of regret, as she looked back at 
 Helen's white dress disappearing among the dark 
 trees. "She is always happy and merry," she 
 thought, " and I am always desponding ; after all, 
 she too would perhaps lose her gay spirits in a 
 humble cottage." 
 
 While Lucy walked slowly homewards Helen 
 ran lightly towards the library, as she always did 
 after even a short absence, to tell Mr. Nelson of 
 her return, and what she had been doing. Her 
 hand was on the door, when the waiter stepped 
 up. 
 
 " Miss Helen, there is a gentleman in the parlor 
 who wishes to see you." 
 
 " A gentleman wishes to see me ?" said Helen 
 looking surprised. "Are you sure he asked for 
 me, Thomas?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss, sure. He asked if Miss MacGregor 
 was in." 
 
 Helen went into the library to ask Mr. Nelson 
 if he knew who it was, but Mr. Nelson was not 
 there as usual ; so thinking he might be in the parlor,
 
 CONQUEST ^NX> SACRIFICE. 283 
 
 she threw aside her hat and went in. Mr. Nelson 
 was not there ; but a tall gentleman rose from the 
 sofa, and looked at Helen in some surprise. But 
 the look only lasted an instant, for Helen bounded 
 forward and threw her arms around his neck ex 
 claiming, " Malcom ! My brother, my brother !" 
 Malcom returned the caress with unusual 
 warmth. Helen could scarcely believe it possible 
 that it was he. She looked at him again and 
 again, and saw the same Malcom as of old. But 
 to Malcom, Helen was much changed. He had 
 forgotten the lapse of years, and had always 
 thought of her as still a child ; but the lady-like, 
 refined young maiden before him bore little resem 
 blance to the half wild girl of their native moun 
 tains. Helen's first inquiry was after her father. 
 He was dead. The shock almost stopped her 
 heart's beating a moment, it was so unexpected. 
 She shed some tears for the father she had scarcely 
 known ; but years and separation had lessened a 
 love never deep, and Helen wept almost as she 
 would have done for a stranger. And Donald 
 MacGregor, sleeping far off in his native High 
 lands, was spared the bitter pang of knowing that 
 the daughter of whom he was so proud, and whom
 
 284 HELEN" MACGHtEGHDR,; OR, 
 
 he really loved, had formed dearer and happier 
 ties, in which the memory of him and his careless 
 indifference had alike perished. 
 
 " And old Margie," said Helen, a smile chasing 
 away the tears, " does she still crone over the peat 
 fire and visit the haunted dell ?" 
 
 " I do not know what her peculiar habits are ; 
 I know she still lives hi the old place, and is more 
 crabbed and cross than ever." 
 
 " Oh, how can you say so, Malcom," said Helen 
 reprovingly, " you know how kind she used to be." 
 
 " To you, yes ; but my memory fails to recall 
 any waste of kindness bestowed on me. However, 
 let that pass. I ask no favors of any one ; I can 
 take care of myself," he replied with some return 
 of his old surly manner. 
 
 Helen thought best not to argue the point, but 
 she saw with sorrow that Malcom was still the 
 same in disposition as when in childish fun she 
 had nick-named him " surly Malcom." 
 
 "And Dugald, how is he?" 
 
 " Dugald who ?" asked her brother. 
 
 " Oh, Malcom, you certainly remember Dugald 
 Stuart, the blind harper." 
 
 "I know nothing about him. I have some-
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 285 
 
 thing better to do than to hunt up musical beg 
 gars," answered Malcom haughtily. 
 
 Helen gave a little sigh of disappointment ; it 
 would have been so nice to have heard from her 
 old friend. She wondered if he were still alive, 
 and whether he ever thought of his "mountain 
 flower." 
 
 Helen then inquired into the mystery of the 
 unanswered letters; it was soon explained. Shortly 
 after Helen's departure her father had been seized 
 with a severe illness. He would not consent to 
 having a physician ; old Margaret's simple arts 
 were unavailing, and Donald MacGregor died, as 
 he had lived, hugging his haughty independence, 
 and carrying his proud, solitary spirit to the grave. 
 Helen gave a slight shudder, as she thought that 
 he had gone into the presence of that God who 
 out of Christ is a consuming fire. Immediately 
 after his father's death, Malcom went to Edin 
 burgh, where he had remained until a couple of 
 months before, when he made up his mind to come 
 to America. 
 
 "But how did you find me?" asked Helen. 
 " Did you get any of my letters ?" 
 
 " Not until just before starting. I went to the
 
 286 HELEN" IMACGHtEGOR; OR, 
 
 mountains to get some things I had left there, 
 when Margaret gave me the letters which she had 
 been hoarding up as a great treasure." 
 
 " And did you read them to her ?" 
 
 " No," was the short reply. 
 
 "Poor Margaret," said Helen, "I know she 
 would like to have heard them. You told her 
 though that I was well and happy, did you not, 
 Malcom?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I gave her ample satisfaction," he 
 said with a slight sneer. 
 
 "Dear old Margie," said Helen, with a soft 
 smile on her lip, " she used to say I would some 
 day come back to her a grand lady; but I do 
 not think I will ever see her again." 
 
 " Pity she did not know you think so much of 
 her," said her brother in a scornful tone. 
 
 A quick reply rose to Helen's lip, but she re 
 pressed it and asked how he had found her. 
 
 " I inquired at Mrs. Neville's, and they directed 
 me here," he answered, inwardly wondering what 
 had become of Helen's quick temper, which he 
 had always had the unfortunate power of rousing 
 by his sneering answers. But these now seemed 
 lost on the self-possessed young girl before him.
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE 287 
 
 Malcom glanced round the room with secret envy 
 at Helen's better lot. He had obtained an ordi 
 nary situation in New York, and had come to 
 Brookfield with the intention of taking Helen 
 from the Nevilles, where, he instinctively felt, 
 from reading the letters, they could not afford to 
 keep her without some loss. He intended to keep 
 house in New York, and he wanted Helen for a 
 housekeeper. She had left the Nevilles, and 
 when he found how she was situated, his better 
 nature whispered to him to let her remain. But 
 Malcom's better nature seldom gamed the day. 
 Selfishness was his ruling trait; and no kind, 
 parental discipline had in childhood checked the 
 poisonous growth. It would add much to his 
 comfort to have Helen's useful hands to tend to 
 his house and mend his clothes. And it gratified 
 Malcom's pride, to think that Helen's refinement 
 and accomplishments would add to his humble home 
 a lustre which would reflect on himself. He told her 
 of his situation and prospects, and Helen listened with 
 interest. But when he spoke of wishing to take a 
 small house, so as to have a home of his own, a 
 thrill of disappointment ran through her heart as 
 she thought, perhaps it might be her duty to go
 
 288 HELEN MACGHREGOR,; OR,, 
 
 with him and make it indeed a home. She made 
 up her mind to think over it ; but she was entirely 
 unprepared for the selfishness which could ask it 
 of her, almost demand it as a right. With a vio 
 lent effort, she strove to hide the keen pang of 
 pain which the question gave her, as she answered 
 she would think of it. Think of it ? She could 
 not banish the thought. It glided along, like an 
 undercurrent, through everything she said or 
 listened to, for the rest of the evening. 
 
 Mr. Nelson came in and invited Malcom to 
 make his home there, while in Brookfield. This 
 he refused, with a hauteur that wounded Helen ; 
 but he stayed to tea, and Helen had the convic 
 tion forced upon her, that Mr. Nelson and his 
 guest disliked each other heartily. She played 
 and sang, and laughed gaily, to hide the cloud 
 from Mr. Nelson's searching but kindly eye. But 
 underneath all, the struggling questions would 
 force themselves up, "Must I go? Must I in 
 deed go and live with one so uncongenial ? Must 
 I leave this home of ease and refinement, my 
 dearest studies, and my kindest friends, for one 
 who cares little for me ? For one who lacks the 
 polish of the world, or the gentleness of goodness ?
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 289 
 
 Is it thy will, O my Father ?" Such were the 
 pleading, half despairing questions, that rose con 
 tinually from that young heart. She longed to be 
 alone. Alone, to pray for strength and guidance. 
 
 Malcom left early, and Helen at once took her 
 Bible to read, although not yet the usual hour. 
 Mr. Nelson made no remark; he heard in the 
 tremulous tones of the reader that her heart was 
 stirred to its very depths. And when she bade 
 him good-night, he clasped her in a fond embrace ; 
 an embrace that seemed, all unconscious as he was, 
 to foreshadow by its tenderness a coming sorrow. 
 Perhaps too, a little jealousy lurked in that fond 
 good-night. Hitherto none had shared an equal 
 claim with Mr. Nelson upon Helen's lot and pros 
 pects in life, and he was fast making an idol of 
 her. Now another, and one claiming the nearer 
 name of brother had come to take, perhaps, the 
 first place in Helen's heart. 
 
 I sometimes wonder, if there is any sin human 
 beings are so apt to fall into as idolatry. It is so 
 subtle, so much less easily recognized than other 
 sins. It is so easy to give ambition, or wealth, or 
 some frail human creature the first place in our 
 hearts, and God the second. Do' we not uncon- 
 
 25 T
 
 290 HELEN" 
 
 sciously find ourselves asking first whether it will 
 please another; and afterward, whether it will 
 please the Saviour ? But, oh, tempted, erring one, 
 bend the knee in reverent thanksgiving, that God 
 is all merciful. The blow may be sharp and 
 keen, but the soul turns from its shattered idol, to 
 the worship of the true God.
 
 XXI. 
 THE DECISION: 
 
 " By the thorn road, and none other, 
 
 Is the mount of vision won ; 
 Tread it without shrinking, brother ! 
 Jesus trod it, press thou on !" 
 
 "TF any man will come after me, let him deny 
 -L himself, and take up his cross daily, and fol 
 low me." Such were the words that fell from the 
 lips of Him who knew the end from the begin 
 ning, One who could trace to its most hidden 
 depths the deepest sorrow of human passion. But 
 his eye was omniscient, and far beyond the weary 
 ing, heavy cross of to-day, he saw the starry crown 
 of the everlasting years that should some time 
 press the brows of his chosen. Yes, the Son of 
 God, who could thus command his beloved ones 
 to take up their cross, knew that through his 
 strength they should step forth into immortality 
 
 " more than conquerors." 
 
 291
 
 292 HELE1ST MACGHEtEGOR ; OR, 
 
 "For a few brief hours the cross, 
 For untold years the crown." 
 
 We all have been brought face to face with the 
 great struggle between duty and inclination, and 
 poor human nature shrinks from the contest. 
 "Who has not heard the syren whisper, enjoy the 
 present, let the future take care of itself? "Who 
 has not felt like shutting his ears to the disagree 
 able calls of duty, and yielding with reckless in 
 difference to the intoxicating pleasure of the mo 
 ment ? Some such idea of stifling conscience pos 
 sessed Helen as she entered her room that evening, 
 and locking her door threw herself on the bed to 
 let thought, like a " lava tide," sweep over her. 
 She was young, full of refined taste and feeling ; 
 she loved her guardian ; she loved her companions ; 
 she liked her home of ease and pleasure; and bit 
 ter indeed did it seem to have to leave them. 
 She would not; no, she would not; she said to 
 herself many times. It was very selfish in Mai- 
 corn to ask it. But this mood did not last. Her 
 better nature whispered, " "Will you let Christ do 
 everything for you, while you do nothing for him? 
 Will you letf your brother go on in his sinful 
 career, and never put forth an effort to win his
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 293 
 
 soul to your Saviour ? Perhaps on your going or 
 staying may depend his eternal welfare." 
 
 Helen was startled at the thought, and yet it 
 was all too true. Malcom knew little about re 
 ligion, and cared less. Thrown among the many 
 temptations of New York, with no shield but his 
 own weak nature, he must sink lower and lower. 
 Then too, he would have to board, and perhaps be 
 brought daily in contact with those more wicked 
 than himself. But, on the other hand, if she kept 
 house for him, if she strove by every means in her 
 power to make home cheerful, might he not learn 
 to love her, and to like his humble home ? And 
 then what good, through God's blessing, her influ 
 ence might do him? She might gradually win 
 him to listen to the Bible, and to attend church 
 with her. Then too, he was her brother, even if 
 she had never been taught to care for him, or had 
 never received his love ; still, he was her brother, 
 the blood of the same ancestors flowed in their 
 veins. The picture grew almost pleasant. But 
 the next instant it was blotted from the canvas by 
 the sudden thought of Malcom as he' really was, 
 surly and ill-tempered ; of hours of loneliness and 
 poverty ; of Nora and Barbara ; of Mr. Nelson's 
 
 25 *
 
 294 HELEN MACGKREQ-OR; OR,, 
 
 indulgence, and all the light and love and joy she 
 must forsake ; and throwing herself on her knees, 
 she prayed with passionate earnestness for grace 
 and guidance. But no light seemed to dawn. 
 Blinded by her own wild wishes she could not see 
 her Saviour ; and the clock had struck the mid 
 night hour before she rose from that sorrowful 
 vigil. But peace was written on her brow ; and 
 if tears still lingered on her dark eye-lashes, and 
 dropped on her trembling lips, she yet looked 
 forward into the future with a steady eye. The 
 struggle had been keen and bitter, but it was 
 over; she had been given strength to do her duty; 
 and she saw, as if with a gifted vision, that had 
 she remained where she was, she might yet have 
 been led astray by the fond indulgence which 
 would not admit that she had any faults, or the 
 boundless wealth entirely at her disposal. And 
 Helen sank to sleep saying, " Jesus knows what is 
 best." 
 
 She had been tossed from the green shores and 
 sweet air of a sunny land into rough waters. She 
 had tried to struggle back, but almost sinking she 
 had caught the hand stretched out to save. It 
 bore her in an opposite direction, but she yielded.
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 295 
 
 It landed her far from the sun-lit isle, on a bleak 
 and desolate shore. She missed the loved faces 
 of her companions, but looking up she saw the 
 Saviour. He was with her still. He would 
 never forsake; and even the most desolate spot 
 became sweet, when lighted by his presence. 
 
 Days passed away. Malcom had left Brook- 
 field after obtaining Helen's promise, and telling 
 her he would come on for her in a few weeks, as 
 soon as he had procured a house and furnished it. 
 Helen still hesitated to tell Mr. Nelson her deci 
 sion. She felt like putting off the dreaded day as 
 long as possible. But she could not well hide 
 from him that something was wrong. He 
 missed her gay song and light laugh, and sent her 
 off one afternoon to take tea at the cottage, think 
 ing thus to cheer her up. Here Helen told her 
 kind friends of her intended departure. Nora and 
 Barbara loudly protested against it; and Nora, 
 bursting into tears, clung to Helen as though she 
 were that instant going. But Mrs. Neville said 
 nothing, and Helen looked at her almost hoping 
 she would make some objection; but no, Mrs, 
 Neville thought it was Helen's duty to go ; and 
 she bade her comfort herself with the sure worcj
 
 296 HELEDST MA-CGKEtEQ-OR ; OR,, 
 
 of promise, " All things work together for good, to 
 them that love God." One thing she strongly 
 advised, that Mr. Nelson should be told at once ; 
 and Helen thought she would tell him on the road 
 home. But going home, she concluded she would 
 tell him when she bade him good night ; and when 
 that moment came, she was as reluctant as ever. 
 But she knew that it must be done; so summon 
 ing all her courage, she hurried through the ac 
 count with such breathless haste that Mr. Nelson 
 had scarcely realized what she had said, before she 
 had finished. 
 
 " Did you say you were going away in a week 
 or two ?" he asked incredulously. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Helen, firmly and sadly. 
 
 Mr. Nelson said no more ; he rose and walked 
 up and down the room with hasty steps and 
 frowning brow. Helen waited a few minutes. 
 She longed to speak some words of consolation be 
 fore leaving him ; but coming up to her he said 
 abruptly, 
 
 "Remember, my daughter, I will never give 
 you up." 
 
 " Ah, do not say so, my father ; what God wills, 
 who shall gainsay ?"
 
 CONQUEST A.NT3 SACRIFICE. 297 
 
 "You do not know what God wills," he an 
 swered impatiently ; " men do as they choose, and 
 as they like best, and then say that God wills it. 
 Nonsense." 
 
 " Dear father," said Helen in a winning tone, 
 " is there no such thing as duty ? Does not our 
 conscience tell us when we do right and when we 
 do wrong ?" 
 
 "But there is mistaken duty, mistaken duty, 
 Helen." 
 
 "True," answered the girl slowly; "human 
 nature is so full of faults, so full of fond feelings ; 
 it is such a pleasure to yield to those we love, that 
 we are apt to persuade ourselves it is our duty, 
 when it is only our inclination." 
 
 " "Well, well, then," said he, " you are mistaken ; 
 it is your duty to stay here, and your inclination 
 calls you away." 
 
 She shook her head with a sad smile. 
 
 " Do you suppose God would leave us without 
 anything to depend on but our weak hearts and 
 fond fancies ? He has said of the Christian, ' he 
 shall call upon me and I will answer him : I will 
 be with him in trouble ; I will deliver him and 
 honor him.' Dear father, I have taken this
 
 298 HELEN" 3VEACQ-REQ-OH, ; OR, 
 
 question to Jesus to decide and I have received an 
 answer. I must go." 
 
 Mr. Nelson said nothing; he sat down on the 
 sofa, and covered his face with his hand. He had 
 been a lonely man ; an orphan, wealthy and proud ; 
 and his cynical disposition had led him to shun 
 his fellow-men, as well as to sneer at religion. 
 Helen's nature, so confidingly free and full of love, 
 had won its way into his icy heart. 
 
 " There's not a hearth, however rude, 
 
 But hath some little flower 
 To brighten up its solitude, 
 And scent the evening hour." 
 
 Helen had become to him that flower, and now 
 to lose her seemed but too hard. "It is only 
 another leaf in my bitter book of life," he mur 
 mured suddenly to himself. Tears filled Helen's 
 eyes. She sat down by him and laid her head on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 " Leave me," he said coldly. 
 
 "Then you are angry," she said sadly, as she 
 rose to obey. 
 
 " Angry ? oh, no ; anger is not the word to use 
 to a heart stung by ingratitude."
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 299 
 
 "Ingratitude!" said Helen with a start, "Am I 
 then ungrateful ?" 
 
 " Ah, Helen, Helen, what else can you call it ? 
 I took you, and made you my daughter ; all the 
 accomplishments that wealth can give, I am giving 
 you ; you might have asked m^ for anything, and 
 had it been in my power, it should have been 
 yours. And all I asked was, that you should 
 lighten my dull old home with your presence; 
 that you should look up to me and love me as 
 your father. But all this has failed to please you ; 
 one whom you scarcely know, bearing the name 
 of brother, arrives, and you turn from me with in 
 difference to find a new home." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, not with indifference; how can 
 you say so ? I have tried to hide how much I 
 feel this parting ; but if you think me ungrateful, 
 I will tell you all. Know then, that it is hard 
 for me to go ; God alone knows how hard. My 
 love for you, my second father ; my liking for the 
 beauty and refinement around me, all urge me to 
 stay." 
 
 "Stay then; stay, Helen; why should you go? 
 We have only a short time to live in this world ; 
 let us enjoy ourselves to the utmost."
 
 300 HELEKT M^CGmE&OR ; OR,, 
 
 Never had Helen before so much need of high 
 principle and firm faith. It was the hour of her 
 great temptation. The voice of affection was 
 urging her to accept wealth and ease, and duty 
 was pointing to a lonely, unloved brother whom 
 she might reclain*. " Why should I go ?" she 
 thought. " Am I ever to be tossed from one home 
 to another ? Let me stay yet a few months, and 
 then there will be time enough to think about it." 
 
 Mr. Nelson saw she was hesitating, and he said 
 eagerly, 
 
 "Yes, stay, my child; life was given us to 
 enjoy ourselves in ; we shall soon sleep an eternal 
 sleep ; then let us make the most of it." 
 
 Helen started, shocked at the idea, and raising 
 her head she said hastily, '. 
 
 " I thank you for that reminder. Yes, we shall 
 soon all sleep our last sleep ; but, oh, it will not 
 be eternal. There is an awaking! There is a 
 day of judgment. Oh, my father, there is some 
 thing more to live for than pleasure. There is 
 duty to man, and duty to God. There is a higher 
 and holier existence than the worldly know. There 
 is a joy even in sacrifice, when it wins the smile 
 of our Saviour. Urge me no more ; I must not,
 
 CONQUEST A:NX> SACRIFICE. 301 
 
 I cannot stay; and oh, my father, yield to the 
 blessed Jesus; learn to love him, and then you 
 will forgive your daughter, that still loving you 
 she could leave you." 
 
 As Helen finished speaking she hastened from 
 the parlor to seek the solitude of her own room, 
 on her knees to ask that strength which is never 
 denied. Those were bitter days for her, and she 
 needed deep draughts from the fountain of living 
 water. She had learned to love her adopted father 
 with all the affectionate trust of her nature ; and 
 she had thought he would look upon her duty as 
 she did. Upright and generous in his actions, 
 Helen expected his aid. Ah, she was finding out 
 that where feeling and desire are opposed to duty, 
 religion alone can give the strength to conquer for 
 the right. Mr. Nelson was moral and just; w r hat 
 the world too often calls a good man ; but the one 
 great foundation of Christ Jesus, he had never 
 built on ; and now in the testing hour, when the 
 question of right and wrong came before him, he 
 failed in high principle. The very foundation of 
 his character was wrong; and all the sandy 
 ground of his morality and pride was washed 
 away before the tide of everlasting truth. Sorrow- 
 
 26
 
 802 HELEN M^CGKREOOR; OR, 
 
 fully Helen thought of all this, and she did all she 
 could for him, then she prayed. And yet, even 
 hi her sorrow, the thought came into her mind 
 that it was best for her that it had happened as it 
 had. She was beginning to trust Mr. Nelson too 
 much, to consider him better than he was; and 
 his being the stronger mind, Helen shuddered to 
 think that he at last might have led her astray 
 from the narrow path, instead of her leading him 
 to the Saviour, as she had fondly hoped to do. 
 She felt that she had been awakened by God, in 
 his merciful providence, on the brink of a preci 
 pice ; and although the disappointment was bitter, 
 she was compelled to confess that no human 
 character can be depended on, unless strengthened 
 and upheld by divine grace. 
 
 The next three weeks were so gloomy that 
 Helen almost rejoiced to see Malcom. Mr. Nel 
 son had treated her kindly and would never listen 
 to another word on the painful subject ; but Helen 
 felt instinctively, that something was wanting. 
 Mr. Nelson had returned to his cold and reserved 
 manners. 
 
 Very sad indeed, was Helen's parting with her 
 friends at the cottage. She went all over the
 
 CONQUEST ANT) SACRIFICE. 303 
 
 house, to her own little room, which still bore her 
 name ; to the study, the pleasant parlor, and the 
 dear old kitchen, and lovely garden. Everything 
 was remembered with keen regret. Mrs. Neville, 
 Barbara and Nora, went with her to the railroad 
 depot ; and Lucy and her little ones came in for a 
 share of tears and caresses. 
 
 "Never mind, Lucy," said Helen, "God is the 
 ' Father of the fatherless.' I promised you things 
 the other day which I cannot now give. How 
 little we can read the future." 
 
 It was almost time to start, and Helen entered 
 the study with a slow step; but Mr. Nelson did 
 not hear her. He was sitting with his back to the 
 door and his head in his hand. Helen stood close 
 beside him, and stooping down she laid her little 
 Bible on his lap. 
 
 "Dear fathet," said she, "read it for my sake, 
 when I am gone." 
 
 He glanced up hastily, and Helen saw a tear 
 drop on the tiny book. He folded her tenderly 
 in his arms and kissed her cheek. 
 
 "You promise, father?" she whispered, in a 
 voice broken by sobs. 
 
 " I promise," he replied ; and in a few minutes
 
 304 HELEN 
 
 Helen was seated in the carriage and rolling to 
 wards the depot. Oakdale with all its attractions 
 was fading in the distance. Helen leaned forward 
 to catch a last glimpse of the white house and 
 green trees and of little Brookfield where she had 
 spent so many happy hours. And the words of 
 the text came with strengthening power, " He that 
 loveth father or mother more than me is not wor 
 thy of me."
 
 XXII. 
 
 DOMESTIC 
 
 " There are briers besetting every path, 
 
 Which call for patient care ; 
 There is a cross in every lot, 
 
 And an earnest need for prayer; 
 But a lowly heart that leans on thee 
 
 Is happy anywhere." 
 
 THERE is such a charm in novelty, that it was 
 some weeks before Helen realized what a 
 great change had befallen her. There was so 
 much to do, and everything was left to her, as 
 Malcom refused to hire anything done that Helen 
 could possibly accomplish. There were carpets to 
 put down, furniture to arrange, and closets to clean 
 and put in order. Then Malcom's clothes were 
 sadly out of order ; there were stockings to darn, 
 and buttons to sew on. How thankful Helen 
 now was for the sewing hours at the cottage, which 
 she at first used to consider such a hardship. And 
 as she sat sewing, she often thought with regret 
 
 26 * u 305
 
 306 HEI^EN 3VT AOGHtEGOR ; OR., 
 
 of the cheerful little study and its pleasant in 
 mates, of the bright garden beyond, and the 
 waving trees. Here she looked out on a narrow 
 street, the high brick walls opposite nearly shut 
 ting out the little glimpse of blue sky. And then 
 the little, little yard, no garden here. She had, 
 however, already planted in its tiny flower bed the 
 seeds which she had brought from Oakdale ; and 
 one scarlet geranium in bloom stood on the win 
 dow ledge near which she sat ; and ever and anon 
 she bent over it with a smile, for it wafted her 
 back to the bright spot from whence it had been 
 taken and where its companions still bloomed in 
 blushing beauty. Sadness was foreign to the 
 nature of Helen MacGregor ; and soon the dark 
 house rang with her merry song, as full of glee as 
 when it echoed through the stately halls of Oak- 
 dale. To be sure, she had her hours of loneliness 
 and home-sickness ; but one unfailing fountain of 
 comfort ever remained/ At such times she took 
 her Bible, and read and thought, until life's 
 troubles were banished by sweet communion with 
 her Saviour. No matter what she felt, she ever 
 strove to have her happiest smiles and most cheer 
 ful words ready for Malcom when he came home.
 
 CO^TQXTEST vV>TD SACRIFICE. 307 
 
 She led a very quiet life. Malcom went away at 
 half past six in the morning, and took his dinner 
 with him, as it was too far for him to return at 
 noon, and he did not get back until six in the 
 evening. After doing up the household work, 
 Helen usually sewed and read in the morning, and 
 took a walk in the afternoon. She knew no one, 
 and these solitary walks were her only amusement. 
 She enjoyed them very much. At first she had 
 only gone short distances for fear of losing her 
 way, but gradually she went farther and farther, 
 until some evenings she had almost to run in order 
 to reach home in time to get Maloom's supper, as 
 he always insisted on having it ready as soon as he 
 came in. Helen's great delight in these walks 
 was to look in the store windows. Of this she 
 thought she would never tire. Brought up in the 
 country all her life, it was almost enchantment to 
 her to see the long rows of splendid windows with 
 all their glittering treasures. One afternoon she 
 had been lost in admiration in front of a picture 
 store, where the exquisite engravings and colored 
 prints had quite made her forget how time was 
 going, until a clock in the neighborhood warned 
 her she should be at home. She hurried back
 
 308 HELEN M-A-CGKREOOR ; OR, 
 
 through the crowded streets, scarcely conscious of 
 the jostling she received, for her mind still lingered 
 amidst the lovely Italian scenes she had been look 
 ing at. 
 
 " Half past five !" she exclaimed, as she threw 
 open the shutters of the room that served them for 
 parlor, dining-room, and kitchen ; ' f now I must 
 hurry." 
 
 She put on the coffee, and turning round, she 
 uttered an exclamation of joy ; there lay a letter 
 on the floor, and from Nora too, she knew the 
 hand-writing. The postman finding no one at 
 home, had slipped it under the door. Helen 
 kissed it, and said with a resigned air, 
 
 "I must not read it now, I must get supper 
 first." 
 
 She bustled about, cut the bread, put the meat 
 on to fry, for as Malcom did not come home to 
 dinner, he always wanted a hot supper. But the 
 more Helen hurried, the more it seemed to put 
 her back, and at length stopping in the middle of 
 the room, she burst into a merry laugh. " Well, 
 I won't hurry any more," she said, " I went and 
 brought the butter out of the cellar, 'and put it into 
 the closet, instead of on the table. What is the
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 309 
 
 difference, whether I read my letter now, or after 
 supper? I can be anticipating the pleasure all 
 through supper time, and thus get twice as much 
 enjoyment out of it." 
 
 Just then some one knocked, and Helen opened 
 the door. Two ragged little children stood there. 
 
 "Will you please give me a piece of bread, 
 ma'am ?" asked the oldest girl. 
 
 "Poor children," said Helen compassionately, 
 as she glanced at their bare feet and ragged clothes, 
 " Come in and I will get you something. Can 
 not your father and mother get bread for you ?" 
 she continued, as she commenced spreading each 
 one a large slice of bread. 
 
 "Father's dead," answered the girl, "and 
 mother's got six children, and she can't get no 
 work." 
 
 " Poor children ! Why, how do you live ?" 
 
 " We mostly starves, when we can't get nothing 
 to eat," answered the girl; 
 
 " How dreadful," said Helen, " I will get you 
 some meat." 
 
 Helen had only intended giving the bread,- but 
 this tale of destitution awoke all her generous 
 nature. She would give them all she could, she
 
 310 HELEN" nVEACa-REGKXR, ; OR,, 
 
 thought, and ask them where they lived, and per 
 haps she could find them out and help them occa 
 sionally. Helen ran down into the cellar to get 
 the meat. " Oh, dear," she sighed, as she glanced 
 at the almost empty safe, " it is so little, it won't 
 go far for six hungry children and their mother. 
 If I were at Oakdale now, what a plentiful sup 
 per they could get, there is so much wasted there ; 
 but I must do the best I can." 
 
 She ran up stairs with the cold meat, but the 
 children had disappeared. She looked out of the 
 open door, they were not in sight, but at that mo 
 ment Malcom stepped up, and Helen turned 
 quickly to the half finished supper. 
 
 " Looking for me ?" asked Malcom gruffly. 
 
 " No," said Helen. 
 
 "Well, what's the matter then, supper not 
 ready, and you standing staring round ?" 
 
 "Oh, what shall I do?" said Helen, "they've 
 taken that large loaf of bread, and we have not 
 enough left for supper." 
 
 " They ! Who ?" asked Malcom. 
 
 "Two little beggar children ; I went down into 
 the cellar to get them some meat, and when I 
 came up they were gone."
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 311 
 
 "And you brought them in here and left 
 them," said Malcom, leaning back in his chair 
 and giving a loud laugh ; " well, Helen, you are a 
 green one. I dare say they have taken something 
 else." 
 
 Helen colored deeply with mortification ; and, 
 she could scarcely keep from feeling angry at her 
 brother's rude manner; but the Christian may 
 seek help at all times; and even a sigh for strength 
 to overcome, for Christ's sake, reaches the divine 
 ear. Helen soon recovered her spirits and joined 
 in the laugh. But Malcom laughed no more. 
 
 "Remember, Helen," he said sternly, "I'll 
 have no more feeding beggars, whether they're 
 honest or not. I have enough to do to provide for 
 my own wants, without supporting all the vaga 
 bond children in New York. Mind, not another 
 piece of bread do you give away ; it will take me 
 long enough to get rich as it is, and that is all I'm 
 living for." 
 
 Helen was greatly shocked to hear this, and she 
 thought she would read that very evening the 
 parable of the rich man ; for Helen always would 
 read aloud a chapter in the Bible every evening, 
 notwithstanding Malcom's objection. Sometimes
 
 312 HELEN M^CGKREGOR; OR, 
 
 he left the room, but he generally sat in sullen 
 silence, and she could not tell whether he listened 
 or not. But that, and praying for him, were the 
 only things she could do, since whenever she might 
 make a remark which he did not wish to hear, he 
 would cut it short with the irreverent exclama 
 tion, " None of your preaching, girl, or I'm off," 
 and Helen, rather than send him out to roam 
 about the streets) would keep quiet. So she said 
 nothing, but having gone after bread, they sat 
 down to supper. 
 
 " Oh, the spoons !" said Helen in dismay. 
 
 Yes, the two silver spoons were gone, and the 
 only silver ones they had. Helen could hardly 
 keep back the tears. Those two spoons had be 
 longed to Miriam Ashton, and Mrs. Neville had 
 given them to Helen as a keepsake ; and she had 
 never looked at them without remembering the 
 lovely Christian woman, who slept beneath the 
 broad Atlantic. Then too those spoons had been 
 to Scotland, and had crossed the Atlantic with 
 Helen. No wonder that she almost cried. 
 
 " I would rather they had taken anything else," 
 she said. 
 
 "Don't be simple, Helen," said her brother,
 
 CONQUEST A.ND SA.CRIIPICE. 313 
 
 "they're gone now, and 'there's no use crying over 
 spilt milk.' Do give me some tea. 
 
 Helen got out the pewter spoons, and supper 
 eJlded in silence. She had quite forgotten her 
 letter in the mishaps of supper time ; but it now 
 brought back the smiles to her face, and chased 
 away every gloomy feeling, as she eagerly broke it 
 open and read, 
 
 " DEAR HELEN, I could not tell you how glad I was to re- 
 ce.ive your long letter. Mother and Barbara both laughed at me 
 because I kissed it so often ; but I always said in answer, that 
 your dear fingers had folded it, and that it had lived with you a 
 while, all unconscious of its happy privilege. First I read it 
 aloud to our folks, and just as I had finished it, Mr. Nelson came 
 in, and he seemed so delighted to hear from you, that I read it to 
 him. Do excuse me, dear, I will keep the next more private ; 
 but you know this was the first, and we all felt so interested, 
 especially Mr. Nelson. He comes to our house almost every day ; 
 but although he never mentions your name, mother says he just 
 comes to hear us talk about you, which I do nearly all the time. 
 Mother thinks him very much changed. She was so surprised 
 the other day, when they were talking together, to hear him say, 
 ' I agree with you Mrs. Neville, there is no book in the world 
 like the Bible.' " 
 
 When Helen read that sentence, she bent her 
 head on her hand, and a prayer of thanksgiving 
 rose to God, as she thought that through his great 
 
 27
 
 314 HKLEKT MACGKREOOR,; OR, 
 
 mercy her little Bible might yet win her adopted 
 father to the blessed Saviour. Helen read on : 
 
 " I suppose you would like to hear something about our little 
 school. It is very small indeed now ; such a falling off, both of 
 teachers and scholars ; first Mary Rellim, then Laura, then you. 
 Now I am the only teacher, and I have but three scholars, for 
 Aleck has a situation as errand boy in Mr. Thompson's store, and 
 lives with him. Susie still comes, although it is a long way from 
 Oakdale, for as you expected, Mr. Nelson asked her to stay there ; 
 he also told Lucy the cottage was hers for another year. Wasn't 
 he kind ? Lucy gets along nicely now, having only two to pro 
 vide for ; but she says it is very lonely without Laura and Susie 
 at night after the little ones are in bed. She misses you very 
 much, and sends a great deal of love. But I must tell you about 
 my scholars. There is Tommy still: and the baby is beginning 
 his letters, he knows 0, and A ; so you see my school is quite 
 flourishing. But, oh, dear Helen, how I do miss you. Instead 
 of getting used to it, it seems to me that every time I walk to 
 wards Lucy's cottage, I feel our separation more than ever. And 
 indeed sometimes it is quite a task for me to go there ; and then 
 that worries me, for I get thinking that after all, perhaps when I 
 was teaching before, I did it only because you taught, and I 
 wanted to help you, instead of trying to please the dear Saviour. 
 I am always so easily led away. I was so sorry to hear you had 
 no garden, that is, none in New York ; you have one here still, 
 and I weed it regularly and water the flowers. The little rose 
 bud I enclose, is from your favorite bush." 
 
 Helen smiled. Nora had forgotten to enclose 
 it.
 
 CONQUEST ATSTD SACR.IITICK. 315 
 
 " Everything looks lovely, but would seem lovelier still if you 
 were here. I have not been at Oakdale since you left; I am 
 waiting until you come back ; for I have the bump of hope so 
 largely developed, I am certain you will be back some day, as 
 little Tom says, ' for good.' Barbara sends her love, and says you 
 must write to her next. Mother says she cannot send hers, it will 
 make the letter too heavy, after mine is in. 
 
 "Do excuse this letter; you know of old that I do not inherit 
 any genius for writing. Do let us hear from you soon, and 
 write everything that happens. 
 
 " I remain your loving 
 
 "NORA." 
 
 Helen read the precious letter many times that 
 evening and for days after. It was the first letter 
 from Brookfield, and it seemed a connecting link 
 binding her to the happy past. Those loving, 
 comforting letters cheered her on many a dark 
 day through the long winter. And regularly every 
 Monday morning they came, " white winged mes 
 sengers of hope and love." Sometimes in Bar 
 bara's grave style, but oftener in Nora's rambling, 
 warm effusions, or Mrs. Neville's kind, motherly 
 words with their wise counsel. For, although so' 
 far away, Helen still went for advice to Mrs. 
 Neville. Blessed are such Christian women! 
 Verily they shall not lose their reward.
 
 XXIII. 
 
 JETAPFY 
 
 "To sojourn in the world, and yet apart; 
 
 To dwell with God, yet still with man to feel ; 
 To bear about forever in the heart 
 The gladness which his Spirit doth reveal." 
 
 TWO years had passed over Helen's head ; two 
 years of quiet duty. She worked and sang 
 and sewed and wrote letters, and one day passed 
 much like another. She had spent the time in no 
 vain repinings, but in contented submission to 
 God's will ; and bright, sunny spots had checkered 
 her shady path. Brightest of these was Mr. Nel 
 son's first visit, about a year after she left Oakdale. 
 Helen was very glad to see him, but that joy was 
 swallowed up in the still greater one of hearing 
 him say, 
 
 "Helen, my daughter, we have one faith, one 
 hope now. I too have found your Saviour." 
 
 Helen's heart overflowed in that hour with 
 
 316
 
 CONQUEST -A.TCD SA-CRIFICE. 317 
 
 gratitude to the all merciful Father. She scarcely 
 heeded the following words, 
 
 " And I owe it all to you. Had you faltered 
 or wavered, had you yielded to my persuasions, 
 and left your duty unfulfilled, all my old preju 
 dices and skepticisms, which were beginning to 
 waver, would have regained their former force. 
 But you stood firm, my daughter, thanks be to 
 God ; and who could help believing in a religion 
 which gave such steady principle to one so young ? 
 I determined to doubt no longer. The old house 
 seemed desolate without you ; but it was best so. 
 Had you still remained, I might never have 
 listened to the strivings of the Holy Spirit, nor 
 gone to Jesus for forgiveness." 
 
 After this first visit, Mr. Nelson had come often 
 to New York ; and Helen had learned to expect him. 
 
 But the proverb says, " it is a long lane which 
 has no turning," and on this particular morn 
 ing, everything in the house seemed turned up- 
 
 tf 
 
 side down. Helen, with her head tied up, was 
 industriously sweeping ; but notwithstanding this 
 busy occupation, snatches of song were constantly 
 bursting from her lips ; and those lips that morn 
 ing could certainly do nothing but smile. A rest- 
 
 27 *
 
 318 HELEN IVU^COOREGOR, ; OH, 
 
 less joyousness seemed to pervade her whole being ; 
 if she only moved a chair, she did it with an 
 extra flourish of glee. Altogether work seemed 
 more like play than labor. At length the room 
 was finished to her satisfaction ; and running out 
 into the yard, she gathered all the flowers her 
 garden contained, which made quite a respectable 
 bouquet ; these she put into a tumbler on the man 
 telpiece. Helen looked around her with pleasure; 
 everything was clean, and as tasteful as it could be 
 made. The room appeared just as it had before 
 excepting that new white curtains had been hung 
 at the windows, which gave it a light, airy ap 
 pearance. The back shutters were open, and 
 through the muslin curtains, parted and tied back 
 with ribbon, could be seen a morning-glory which 
 Helen had taught to climb over the window ; and 
 this she always looked at, to remind her of the 
 country. She refused to look beyond, at the little 
 brick yard, bounded by its board fence, but let her 
 eye always stop at the pretty trailing vine of bright 
 green. 
 
 Now glancing at the clock, she ran hastily up 
 stairs, and soon returned, dressed in one of her 
 favorite white muslins, which she had scarcely
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 319 
 
 worn since she left Oakdale. Then carefully pin 
 ning up her sleeves, and skirt, and putting on an 
 apron, she began to get dinner. Here there was a 
 decided improvement; new dishes and silver 
 spoons. Then too, the savory roast, the variety 
 of vegetables and the desserts did not look much 
 like the meal that ordinarily graced the table of 
 Malcom MacGregor. 
 
 Helen had everything ready just as a carriage 
 drove up to the door, and Malcom and his bride 
 alighted. She welcomed them warmly; and 
 chided herself for not liking the face of her 
 brother's wife. But then, she could not help 
 thinking of what Malcom had told her a few 
 months before, " she was quite rich, and that was 
 all he cared for." Helen had talked and argued in 
 vain ; Malcom was determined to be rich at any 
 cost, even,' as Helen feared, at the expense of his 
 happiness. In one particular only, as far as she 
 knew, did they agree ; Malcom's wife was as par 
 simonious as himself. It was she who had pro 
 posed living in the same house, and foregoing 
 much extra expense that they might save more. 
 
 But the home-coming of a pair so uncongenial 
 certainly did not give that light to Helen Mac-
 
 320 HELEN" 3VI A.C&R-E&OR- ; OR,, 
 
 Gregor's eye, nor that flush of joy to her cheek. 
 Ah, no ; sad indeed would have been her lot, if 
 forced to live in that house, whose inmates were 
 4estined to a life of discord. Her brother's mar 
 riage had released her. He had told her he would 
 need her no longer, and Helen forgot the ingrati 
 tude of the remark in the joy of her new freedom. 
 She wrote at once to Mrs. Neville, asking for her 
 old place in the cottage for a short time, until she 
 could get a school. She received an answer in the 
 person of Mr. Nelson, indignant at the idea. 
 Oakdale, he declared, was and always should be 
 her home. And if she would not submit, he 
 would use his parental authority. That afternoon 
 she was going to Brookfield. No wonder then 
 she felt as if she were treading on air. 
 
 The dinner dishes were all put away, and Helen 
 had just come down stairs, in her travelling dress 
 and bonnet, when the carriage drove up to the 
 door and Mr. Nelson arrived. Her trunk was 
 carried out, the short farewells were said, and 
 Helen had left behind her the gloomy house which 
 would long miss her cheery presence. 
 
 After that Helen seldom saw Malcom or his 
 wife. They refused to visit Oakdale ; and when
 
 CONQUEST AND SACRIFICE. 321 
 
 Helen stopped there for a day or two, once, when 
 she was in New York, her brother's wife made 
 her feel that she was not welcome. But Malcom 
 received her very kindly; and Helen's heart 
 yearned over her brother, who, she saw too plainly, 
 had wrecked his happiness in this world, and re- * 
 fused the only consolation left him, the hope of a 
 better life hereafter. Yes, scarcely a day passed, 
 but Malcom became more and more conscious of 
 the treasure he had lost in Helen. But he had 
 his wish ; he became rich ; and he lived bitterly 
 to confess that riches are powerless to confer hap 
 piness. 
 
 Steam cars travel fast, but that afternoon they 
 could not travel fast enough for Helen's eager 
 wishes. When they reached the depot, Mr. Nel 
 son's carriage was waiting for them. Helen shook 
 hands with Thomas, and almost felt like kissing 
 the well remembered grey horses. As they drove 
 through Brookficld, her eyes were filled with tears 
 of thankful joy; every dear remembered spot 
 brought back its tender recollections. 
 
 There was the little wood, in which she had 
 been so happy and so sad. There was Lucy's poor 
 cottage, and Mrs. Rellim's handsome house. But
 
 322 HELEN MA-CGHREGOR; OR, 
 
 there, hid amidst the trees and vines, was Mrs. 
 Neville's cottage ; and yes, surely it was, Barbara 
 and Nora waiting at the gate. The carriage 
 stopped ; and Helen was clasped in so many loving 
 arms, she was fairly carried into the house. Nora 
 was almost beside herself with joy. She and 
 Helen ran all over the house. Helen sat down in 
 her old place in the study, and threw herself on 
 her own little bed, just to try it once more, she 
 said laughing. Nora lay down beside her, and 
 throwing her arms around her exclaimed, 
 
 " Oh, Helen, I wish we could keep you here. 
 I have missed you so much." 
 
 "Not more than I have you, Nora darling," 
 said Helen, returning the embrace, " and remem 
 ber, we must make some plan to see each other 
 daily, since we have no little school now." 
 
 " I wish we had, so that we would be sure to 
 meet ; for it will not be so easy for me to go out 
 now; since Barbara has commenced to teach I 
 have a great deal more to do." 
 
 "And how does Lucy like her new home?" 
 asked Helen. 
 
 " Very much. She sews all day, and secures a 
 home for herself and little Will, the baby, as we
 
 CONQUEST A.NT) SACRIFICE. 323 
 
 used to call him ; but he deserves the name no 
 longer. Then besides, she earns some money. I 
 forget how much." 
 
 "We must go down now," said Helen sud 
 denly, getting up, "they will think us very 
 selfish." 
 
 " Let me tell you, Helen dear, before you go 
 down," said Nora, in a low tone, " how much I 
 sympathized in your deep joy, when your adopted 
 father found the dear Saviour. I could not write 
 it," 
 
 Helen's only answer was a fond embrace, as the 
 tears stood in her eyes. 
 
 " And Mary Rellim ?" she asked, as they went 
 down stairs, " where is she ?" 
 
 "Oh, she is home now; she has finished her 
 education. We were talking about you last 
 evening, and planning over what nice times we 
 will all have together next winter, if nothing hap 
 pens." 
 
 When they went down they found supper ready 
 and Mr. Nelson patiently waiting. But all in 
 ducements could not prevail on Mr. Nelson to 
 stay to supper, as their own supper would be wait 
 ing at home ; and Helen, only taking a few straw-
 
 324 HELE1ST MACGKREOOR; OR, 
 
 berries, because Nora said she had picked them 
 out of her own garden for her, jumped into the 
 carriage once more, promising to come round early 
 the next morning. 
 
 The sun was just setting as the carriage rolled 
 into Oakdale, and never had it looked more lovely. 
 The warm, red light gave a mellow tint to the 
 house; and the tall trees bent over in stately 
 magnificence, as if guarding the spot. Flowers 
 bloomed on every side ; and Helen's head bowed 
 in gratitude to God for a home so beautiful ; and 
 an earnest prayer went up that she might never be 
 led astray by worldly amusements. 
 
 The servants were collected to welcome back the 
 young girl whom they had all liked, and who was 
 now to take her place as the head of the house 
 hold. Susie was there, with her pretty face and 
 dainty ways, and strove to show the others that 
 she had the best right to Miss Helen. 
 
 Helen looked around her own room, and thought 
 it was lovelier than ever, from contrast with the 
 dingy little attic she had slept in last. She threw 
 open the window and enjoyed the broad, beautiful 
 landscape, and smiled to think how much more 
 of the sky she could see here, than in her city
 
 CONQUEST A3STD SACRIFICE. 325 
 
 home. Then dismissing Susie, she knelt down to 
 give thanks for her safe return and for all God's 
 manifold blessings. 
 
 That was a happy evening ; old times seemed to 
 live once more. Helen returned to the long ne 
 glected harp, and memories of " Auld Lang Syne" 
 moistened her eyes, as the familiar songs woke the 
 quiet air. They had the same old evenings, no, 
 not the same ; for now Mr. Nelson read in the 
 Bible, and Helen listened ; and for the first time 
 she heard him lead in prayer at family worship. 
 All the servants were gathered together, and as a 
 united family the petitions went up to the throne 
 of grace. 
 
 That had been Mr. Nelson's greatest trial. 
 Known so long to his own servants, as well as to 
 the world, as a sneering unbeliever, how could he 
 summon them to a religious service which he 
 should conduct. But God giveth strength. Some 
 of the old servants, who were Christians, rejoiced 
 at the change, and welcomed that first effort with 
 thankfulness. But some sneered and laughed, 
 until they found there was a reality in their mas 
 ter's religion. 
 
 28
 
 XXIV 
 CONCLUSION: 
 
 " 'Tis the quiet hour of feeling, 
 
 Now the busy day is past, 
 And the twilight shadows stealing, 
 O'er the world their mantle cast." 
 
 twilight of a March day was casting its 
 J- lengthening shadows over life's busy hours, 
 and calling on each weary one to hasten home to 
 the genial fireside. The curtains were not yet 
 drawn in the cottage parlor, but the mellow tints 
 of coming eve mingled with the cheerful fire 
 light. 
 
 Mrs. Neville was in the kitchen preparing sup 
 per, and Helen, Barbara and Nora, were gathered 
 around the fire. Silence had settled on the little 
 group as the shadows deepened, and each one 
 seemed lost in thought. At length Helen, putting 
 her arm around Nora, said playfully, 
 
 " And what has become of Nora's merry tongue 
 this evening ?" 
 
 326
 
 CONQUEST yVND SACRIITICE. 327 
 
 " Ah," said Nora with a little laugh, " I was 
 disobeying you and thinking of next month." 
 
 " Well, I dare say we were all thinking of the 
 same thing," said Barbara, "I cannot realize, 
 Helen, that next month you start for Scotland." 
 
 "Scotland! Dear Scotland, shall I indeed 
 tread your loved shore once more, and climb again 
 your beautiful Highlands ? I shall once again be 
 a Scotch lassie and forget that years have rolled 
 by since I hunted the heath flower, or listened for 
 the fairies' footsteps." 
 
 " Ah, but you will be glad to come back, dear 
 sister, will you not?" asked Nora with a little 
 jealousy. 
 
 " Yes, very glad, I think. Here I leave warm, 
 true hearts. Here I found a home, a father, a 
 mother, and two dear sisters; and best of all, here 
 I found a Saviour, and a life eternal. There none 
 will know me j I shall return to my childhood's 
 home, but it will be desolate, or worse still, per 
 haps, trodden by a stranger's foot. Yes, I shall 
 
 be glad to go, but glad, very glad to come back." 
 
 
 
 We will not follow Mr. Nelson and Helen to 
 Scotland, nor mingle in the joy of their return.
 
 328 HELEN 
 
 Here we bid farewell to the cottage and its in 
 mates ; to the stately halls of Oakdale, its grave 
 master and happy young mistress. Twilight is 
 gathering over the scene, and night will soon hide 
 them from our view. After cares and trials await 
 them all, but we leave them now, happy and con 
 tented ; knowing well that they are treading the 
 narrow path; that on each brow is set the Sa 
 viour's signet ; and that no matter what may hap 
 pen, they believe the divine words, 
 
 " Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in 
 the temple of my God, and he shall go no more 
 out." 
 
 THE END.
 
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