‘Which means that every one else, and you particularly, are to grow up unhappy, and live in a state of eternal punishment,’ said Sebastian, resentfully; ‘disgusting people!’ ‘They are not disgusting, and they have a right to bring up their children as they think best.’ Sebastian found that Helena would not complain. She evidently accepted the inevitable resolutely. She had become very reasonable and sensible. He wished she had been less so. ‘Mrs. Spenceley looks well and cheerful,’ said he at last. ‘That must be a comfort to you.’ ‘Poor mamma! Yes, it is,’ said Helena, with sudden tenderness. ‘What a great deal she has had to go through, and how brave, and cheerful, and uncomplaining she is. She makes me feel ashamed of myself, and yet I cannot see things in the light in which she sees them.’ ‘Mr. Jenkins, for instance, on Sundays.’ ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Helena, and then, after a pause, ‘No; mamma and I differ very much on the subject of Mr. Jenkins.’ ‘You see, I know why I may not come on Sunday,’ said he, rising. ‘Do you? I thought you would not enjoy Mr. Jenkins’s society, but now, if you like, you may come on Sunday, and have the pleasure of meeting him. We are glad to see our friends, if they care to visit us.’ ‘Our _friends_!’ It was the turn of the eminently reasonable Mr. Mallory to feel most unreasonably annoyed at being classed, along with Mr. Jenkins, as ‘our friends.’ Helena had succeeded in turning the tables very completely upon him. It was useless to try not to feel mortified and snubbed. He felt both; and Helena stood, the picture of unconscious innocence, waiting for him to finish his good-bye. ‘You have changed, Miss Spenceley,’ said he. ‘You have developed the power of being very----’ ‘Rude and unkind?’ suggested Helena. ‘Perhaps adversity has soured my temper. It has that effect upon many natures, and I never was one who could endure thwarting as you may remember.’ ‘May I be allowed to come again?’ he asked, almost humbly. ‘We shall be happy to see you, whenever your other engagements allow you to call,’ said Helena, quite coolly and distantly. The answer chilled him and stung him, and yet he asked himself, what more would he have had her say? ‘You say you are so very busy,’ she continued remorselessly, ‘and if you accept this invitation to stand, and if Mr. Lippincott resigns, which I suppose he really intends to do now, and the election comes on, your time will indeed be fully occupied.’ ‘But I am not forbidden to come when I have time?’ ‘Forbidden! Oh no! As I said, we are always glad to see our friends.’ ‘Good-bye,’ said he. ‘Remember you are answerable for the step I am going to take.’ ‘You say so, but I wonder how it would have been if we had never met,’ said Helena, carelessly. They shook hands, and Sebastian was gone, with the words still echoing after him: ‘I wonder how it would have been, if we had never met!’