safety and shelter of the home assured her. She resolved to come back and share Leonard's penury and struggles, and save the old room, wherein she had prayed for him, from the tempter's dangerous presence. Should she burden him? No; she had assisted her father by many little female arts in needle and fancy work. She had improved herself in these during her sojourn with Miss Starke. She could bring her share to the common stock. Possessed with this idea, she determined to realise it before the day on which Leonard had told her Burley was to move his quarters. Accordingly she rose very early one morning; she wrote a pretty and grateful note to Miss Starke, who was fast asleep, left it on the table, and, before any one was astir, stole from the house, her little bundle on her arm. She lingered an instant at the garden-gate, with a remorseful sentiment--a feeling that she had ill-repaid the cold and prim protection that Miss Starke had shown her. But sisterly love carried all before it. She closed the gate with a sigh, and went on. She arrived at the lodging-house before Leonard was up, took possession of her old chamber, and, presenting herself to Leonard as he was about to go forth, said, (story-teller that she was,)--"I am sent away, brother, and I have, come to you to take care of me. Do not let us part again. But you must be very cheerful and very happy, or I shall think that I am sadly in your way." Leonard at first did look cheerful, and even happy; but then he thought of Burley, and then of his own means of supporting her, and was embarrassed, and began questioning Helen as to the possibility of reconciliation with Miss Starke. And Helen said gravely, "Impossible--do not ask it, and do not go near her." Then Leonard thought she had been humbled and insulted, and remembered that she was a gentleman's child, and felt for her wounded pride--he was so proud himself. Yet still he was embarrassed. "Shall I keep the purse again, Leonard?" said Helen coaxingly. "Alas!" replied Leonard, "the purse is empty." "That is very naughty in the purse," said Helen, "since you put so much into it." "I?" "Did not you say that you made, at least, a guinea a-week?" "Yes; but Burley takes the money; and then, poor fellow! as I owe all to him, I have not the heart to prevent his spending it as he likes." "Please, I wish you could settle the month's rent," said the landlady, suddenly showing herself. She said it civilly, but with firmness. Leonard coloured. "It shall be paid to-day." Then he pressed his hat on his head, and, putting Helen gently aside, went forth. "Speak to _me_ in future, kind Mrs Smedley," said Helen with the air of a housewife. "_He_ is always in study, and must not be disturbed." The landlady--a good woman, though she liked her rent--smiled benignly. She was fond of Helen, whom she had known of old. "I am so glad you are come back; and perhaps now the young man will not keep such late hours. I meant to give him warning, but--"