"And so I am the owner of these beautiful purses. How proud and happy I ought to be! It will be long, I fear, before I shall fill them with gold--and even if I could, it would be a shame to soil them with the yellow dust of temptation. I will cherish them both. Yours, Alice, will always remind me of all that is beautiful on earth, woven of this brilliant green and gold. And yours, Helen, blue as the sky, of all that is holy in Heaven. "But while I am thus receiving precious gifts," he added, "I must not forget that I am the bearer of some also. My saddle-bags are not entirely filled with vials and pills. Here, mother, is a bunch of thread, sent by Miss Thusa, white as the fleece of the unshorn lamb. She says she spun it expressly for you, because of your kindness to Helen." "I know by experience the beauty and value of Miss Thusa's thread," said Mrs Hazleton, admiring the beautiful white hanks, which her son unrolled; "ever since I knew Helen I have had a yearly supply, such as no other spinster ever made. How shall I make an adequate return?" "There is a nicely bound book in our library, mother, which would please her beyond expression--a history of all the celebrated murders in the country, within the last ten years. Here, Helen, are some keepsakes for you and Alice, from your mother." "How kind, how good," exclaimed Helen, "and how beautiful! A work-box for me, and a toilet-case for Alice. How nice--and convenient. Surely we ought to love her. Mittie cannot help loving her when she comes. I'm sure she cannot." "Your father is going for Mittie soon," said Arthur. "He bids me tell you that you must be ready to accompany him, and remain in her stead for at least three years." A cloud obscured the sunshine of Helen's countenance. The prospect which Mittie had hailed with exultation, Helen looked forward to with dismay. To be sent to a distant school, among a community of strangers, was to her timid, shrinking spirit, an ordeal of fire. To be separated from Alice, Arthur, and Mrs. Hazleton, seemed like the sentence of death to her loving, clinging heart. "We must all learn self-reliance, Helen," said Arthur, "we must all pass through the discipline of life. The time will soon come when you will assume woman's duties, and it is well that you go forth awhile to gather strength and wisdom, to meet and fulfil them. You need something more bracing and invigorating than the atmosphere of love that surrounds you here."