“You very kindly volunteered to testify to the worth of Miss Lotte Clinton,” he said, “when and wherever I might request you to do so?” “Or I could have the opportunity of doing so,” interposed Helen, emphatically. Nathan said to her instantly-- “I wish you would give Mr. Wilton your impressions concerning her.” If ever Helen Grahame spoke fervently, earnestly, passionately, she did so now. Oh! she found words inexpressive to record the obligations she was under to Lotte, or her daily increasing sense of their value, which had no measure of requital. Her ardour of expression, her tears, her emotion in making her acknowledgments of Lotte’s uniform, unselfish acts of kindness overwhelmed Wilton. He could not reply to her. The tears stood in his eyes. Then Flora knelt at his feet, and she said-- “She watched in your sickness and prostration over you with tender patience and amiable sweetness. She soothed your anxiety and your pain by her attention when you were awake, her mild, kind eyes rarely left you when you slept. You, yourself, have said that her face greeted you like a burst of sunshine. That it was radiant with a galaxy of glories, for it was cheerful, amiable, placid, gentle, good----” Wilton sprang up and said, in a hoarse, husky voice-- “Why, Mark--Mark, my boy, Miss Clinton, your--your choice is--is---” “Your own little pet nurse,” replied Mark, with evident excitement. Mr. Wilton sank down in his seat again. “I see it all,” he said; “I understand her better now. Mark, my son, the last shred of false pride has been wrested from me. I see the precipice on which I have been standing, and I draw back in thankfulness. If any persuasions of mine can induce Miss Clinton now to accept you I will use them until they become entreaties. She shall be yours; and happy you will be with her, unless you yourself destroy the felicity her gentleness will weave around you.” So far all was well; and now Mark explained to him how he had sought to induce her to become his wife, and how she refused him, because she would not create dissension in his family, even though a life of sorrow was entailed on her by her own refusal. And Helen explained how she had declined her husband’s offer of an independence for a reason which she would not explain, but which really was, that if Mr. Wilton found that her means were far better than he had anticipated, he might consent to receive her into his family. She felt that thus Mark’s solicitations would be renewed; and as she was too high-spirited to enter his family by such a side-wind, she believed it would occasion her less pain to remain, unsought, in her old condition, than to have again to refuse Mark’s entreaties to become his. Besides, she loved him so dearly that she was afraid of her own strength to continue to say nay.