Notwithstanding the kind treatment which Helen received in her new home, she did not seem happy. Although the companions among which she had been thrown had not been of a nature to give her very elevated ideas of moral rectitude, something within told her that the act required of her would be one of the basest ingratitude. The more she thought of it, the more her heart recoiled from it. Yet so accustomed was she to obey the man Armstrong without question,—not so much from affection as from fear and a sense of duty,—that she had hardly admitted to herself the possibility of refusing to comply with his demands. Now, however, that he had himself confessed that no relationship existed between them, the force of the latter consideration was not a little weakened; and, as fear decreases in the absence of those who inspire it, she began now to consider in what way she could contrive to avoid it. Circumstances occurred before the dreaded Friday night which served to hasten her decision. On the day previous, while roaming through the fields with Ellen and Frank Gregory, in jumping hastily from a stone wall, her foot turned, and her ankle was severely sprained. The pain was so violent that she nearly fainted, and was quite unable to make her way to the house, which was some quarter of a mile distant. The children were exceedingly frightened, and, returning in breathless haste, gave an immediate alarm. Two men were speedily obtained, who, constructing a soft litter, conveyed Helen to the house, without occasioning her much additional pain. A physician was at once summoned. Meanwhile, Helen was put to bed, where she received every attention. Mrs. Gregory had a warm heart, which suffering in any form was sure to reach; and, had Helen been her own child, she could not have been more tenderly cared for. The physician decided that it was nothing very serious; though he recommended, as a necessary precaution, that the injured member should not be used for a fortnight or more, lest inflammation might ensue. Helen did not hear him pronounce this sentence. When, however, she was informed of it by Mrs. Gregory, after his departure, her mind at once reverted to the fact that it would be an insuperable obstacle to her performing the part assigned her. Actuated by the relief which the thought brought to her, and without thinking of the manner in which it would be construed, she involuntarily exclaimed,— “Oh! I am so glad!” “Glad!” exclaimed Mrs. Gregory, in astonishment. “What can you mean? You surely cannot mean that you are glad you will be confined to the house by sickness?” Helen was embarrassed. She knew she could not explain herself without telling all; and that she had not yet determined upon. At length she said,— “Because it will prevent me from doing something that I did not want to do.” “But why did you not want to do it?” asked Mrs. Gregory. “Because I do not think it would have been right.”