Time is not a thing of much consequence under such circumstances, and it was a couple of hours before Helen was aroused. She heard a carriage stop at the door, and sprang up in alarm, with the thought that it might be Mr. Harrison. But as she stood trembling in the middle of the room she heard a voice inquiring for her, and recognized it as that of her aunt; a moment later Mrs. Roberts rushed into the room, and catching sight of Helen, flung her arms eagerly about her. “My dear girl,” she cried, “Mr. Harrison has just told me about what has happened!” And then as she read her niece's state of mind in her countenance, she added, “I expected to find you rejoicing, Helen; what is the matter?” In point of fact the woman had known pretty well just how she would find Helen, and having no idea of leaving her to her own tormenting fancies, she had driven over the moment she had finished her lunch. “I received your father's letter,” she said, without waiting for Helen to answer her, “so I came right over to take you back.” “To take me back!” echoed Helen. “Yes, my dear; you don't suppose I mean to leave you here all alone by yourself, do you? And especially at such a time as this, when Mr. Harrison wants to see you?” “But, Aunt Polly,” protested Helen, “I don't want to see him!” “Don't want to see him? Why, my dear girl, you have promised to be his wife!” Mrs. Roberts saw Helen shudder slightly, and so she went on quickly, “He is going to stay at the hotel in the village; you won't find it the same as being in the house with him. But I do assure you, child, there never was a man more madly in love than he is.” “But, Auntie, dear, that Mr. Howard, too!” protested Helen, trembling. “He will not interfere with you, for he never makes any noise; and you'll not know he's there. Of course, you won't play the piano, but you can do anything else you choose. And Mr. Harrison will probably take you driving every day.” Then seeing how agitated Helen was, her aunt put her arms around her again, and led her to the sofa. “Come, Helen,” she said, “I don't blame you for being nervous. I know just how you feel, my dear.” “Oh, Aunt Polly!” moaned the girl. “I am so wretched!” “I know,” laughed Aunt Polly; “it's the idea of having to marry him, I suppose; I felt the very same way when I was in your place. But you'll find that wears off very quickly; you'll get used to seeing him. And besides, you know that you've _got_ to marry him, if you want any of the other happiness!” And Mrs. Roberts stopped and gazed about her. “Think, for instance, my dear,” she went on, “of having to be content with this dingy little room, after having seen that magnificent place of his! Do you know, Helen, dear, that I really envy you; and it seems quite ridiculous to come over here and find you moping around. One would think you were a hermit and did not care anything about life.”