Helen was not angry, but she was unaffectedly frightened at finding herself in such close proximity with this very oppressively handsome young man; and without pausing to reflect on the silliness and childishness of the act, she flew away as rapidly as a startled bird. It seemed as if all the reminiscences of her childhood pressed home upon her in the space of a few moments. Just as she had been arrested years before, when fleeing from the snake that invaded her strawberry-bed, so she found herself impeded by a restraining arm; and looking up she beheld her friend, the young doctor, his face radiant with a thousand glad welcomes. "Oh! I am _so glad_ to see you once again," exclaimed Helen, yielding involuntarily to the embrace, which being one moment withheld, only made her heart throb with double joy. "My sister, my Helen, my own dear pupil," said Arthur Hazleton, and the rich glow of the morning was not deeper nor brighter than the color that mantled his cheek. "How well and blooming you look! They told me you were ill and could not be disturbed last night. I did not hope to see you so brilliant in health and spirits. And who crowned you so gayly, the fair queen of the morning?" "I don't know," she cried, taking the chaplet from her head and shaking the dew-drops from its leaves, "and yet I suspect it was Mr. Clinton, who came behind me while I was standing by yonder beech tree." Arthur's serious, dark eye rested on the young girl with a searching, anxious expression, as Clinton approached and paid the compliments of the morning with more than his wonted gracefulness of manner. He apologized for the freedom he had taken so sportively and naturally, that Helen felt it would be ridiculous in her to assume a resentment she did not feel, and yielding to her passionate admiration for flowers, she wreathed them again round her sun-bright locks. It was thus the trio approached the house. Mittie saw them from the window, and the keenest pang she had ever known penetrated her heart. She saw the beech tree shorn of its morning garland, that garland which was blooming triumphantly on her sister's brow. She saw Clinton walking by her side, calling up her smiles and blushes according to his own magnetic will. She accused Helen of deceit and guile. Her languor and illness the preceding evening was all assumed to heighten the blooming contrast of the present moment. Her morning ramble and meeting with Clinton were all premeditated, her seeming artlessness the darkest and deepest hypocrisy. For a few weeks Mittie had revelled in the joy of an awakened nature. She had reigned alone, with no counter influence to thwart the sudden and luxuriant growth of passion. She, alone, young, beautiful and attractive, had been the magnet to youth, beauty and attraction. She had been the centre of an island world of her own, which she had tried to keep as inaccessible to others as the granite coast in the Arabian Nights.