“Now listen, my dear,” the other went swiftly on, perhaps divining the girl's state, “I want you to do a great favor for me.” “Was not that for you, Auntie?” asked Helen, weakly. “No, my dear, that was for yourself. But this--” “What is it?” “I want you to come and talk to my David Howard a little while.” The girl gave a start, and turned a little paler. “Aunt Polly,” she exclaimed, “not now! He looks so ill, it makes me nervous even to see him.” “But, Helen, my dear, that is nonsense,” was the reply. “Mr. Howard is one of the most interesting men you ever met. He knows more than all the people in this room together, and you will forget he is an invalid when you have talked to him a while.” Helen was, or wished to think herself, upon the heights of happiness just then, and she shrunk more than ever from anything that was wretched. “Not now, Aunt Polly,” she said, faintly. “Please wait until--” “But, my dear,” said Aunt Polly, “now is the very time; you will wish to be with Mr. Harrison again soon. And you must meet Mr. Howard, for that is what he came for.” “I suppose then I'll have to,” said Helen, knitting her brows; “I'll stroll over in a minute or two.” “All right,” said the other; “and please try to get acquainted with him, Helen, for I want you to like him.” “I will do my best,” said the girl. “He won't talk about his ailments, will he?” “No,” said the other, laughing, “I fancy not. Talk to him about music--he's a great musician, you know.” And as her aunt left the room, Helen stole a side glance at the man, who was alone upon the sofa just then. His chin was still resting in his hand, and he was looking at Helen as before. As she glanced at him thus he seemed to be all head, or rather all forehead, for his brow was very high and white, and was set off by heavy black hair. “He does look interesting,” the girl thought, as she forced a smile and walked across the room; her aunt entered at the same time, as if by accident, and the two approached Mr. Howard. As he saw them coming he rose, with some effort as Helen noticed, and with a very slight look of pain; it cost her some resolution to give the man her hand. In a minute or two more, however, they were seated alone upon the sofa, Aunt Polly having gone off with the remark to Helen that she had made Mr. Howard promise to talk to her about music, and that they both knew too much about it for her. “You must tell Helen all about her playing,” she added to him, laughingly. And then Helen, to carry on the conversation, added, “I should be very much pleased if you would.” “I am afraid it is an ungracious task Mrs. Roberts has chosen me,” the man answered, smiling. “Critics are not a popular race.” “It depends upon the critics,” said Helen. “They must be sincere.” “That is just where they get into trouble,” was the response.