Within a week he had carried her away to a quiet country resort, where she soon regained her health. But during her illness, there came to her, through the clairvoyant power of a loving heart, the knowledge that some mysterious change had taken place in Percy. He was kind, oh, very kind; so careful of her bodily comfort, so solicitous for her welfare. And yet--what was it? "Is any thing troubling you?" she asked him one day. "You do not seem like yourself." "There are some business matters which annoy me," he said, evading her eyes. "My South American ventures are a failure--that is all, my dear, save a miserable lassitude and sideache, which Dr. Sydney says is due to a touch of malaria." But she knew better. They returned to New York, and then Percy was guilty of an act of rash folly, for a man who desired to escape a complication of troubles. He sent Dolores a message, saying he was called out of town suddenly. Then he took the train for Centerville. It was Saturday afternoon, and he told himself, that he would merely attend divine service in the morning, listen to Helena's voice once more, and come away without being seen by any one. But in his heart, he knew that this was impossible. And when Mrs. Griffith approached him after service, and urged him to accompany them home, and dine with them, he went, without offering one objection. Helena greeted him with simple cordiality, and entertained him with the easy grace so natural to her. He was at peace with himself, in her presence, for the first time since he last saw her. "How strange it is!" he mused, "I have seen the most beautiful women in the world, I have listened to the most famous singers; and yet, I am moved by the presence and voice of a simple village maiden as I have never been moved in my life before." A sudden impulse came over him to tell her his story, to ask her advice, as they sat alone in the afternoon. Then he hesitated: what if she turned from him, shocked, angry, horrified?--so he only said: "I wish you would call some of your wise spirits, Miss Helena, and ask them to read me my future. I am in trouble--a trouble out of which I can see no pathway. I wish good angels would tell me how it is to end." "But that is not the province of spirits," Helena answered. "People often make the great mistake of supposing that the departed know all that is to happen to us while we remain upon earth. The fact is, they know very little about it, and are too busily employed to give their time to finding out the future for us." "But if their lives are so exalted and their vision so broad, I see no reason why they should not know."