Leonard had now only to discover the nobleman whose name had been so vaguely uttered by poor Captain Digby. He had again recourse to the _Court Guide_; and finding the address of two or three lords the first syllables of whose titles seemed similar to that repeated to him, and all living pretty near to each other, in the regions of May Fair, he ascertained his way to that quarter, and, exercising his mother-wit, inquired at the neighboring shops as to the personal appearance of these noblemen. Out of consideration for his rusticity, he got very civil and clear answers; but none of the lords in question corresponded with the description given by Helen. One was old, another was exceedingly corpulent, a third was bed-ridden--none of them was known to keep a great dog. It is needless to say that the name of L'Estrange (no habitant of London) was not in the _Court Guide_. And Dr. Morgan's assertion that that person was always abroad, unluckily dismissed from Leonard's mind the name the homoeopathist had so casually mentioned. But Helen was not disappointed when her young protector returned late in the day and told her of his ill success. Poor child! she was so pleased in her heart not to be separated from her new brother; and Leonard was touched to how she had contrived, in his absence, to give a certain comfort and cheerful grace to the bare room devoted to himself. She had arranged his few books and papers so neatly, near the window, in sight of the one green elm. She had coaxed the smiling landlady out of one or two extra articles of furniture, especially a walnut-tree bureau, and some odds and ends of ribbon--with which last she had looped up the curtains. Even the old rush-bottom chairs had a strange air of elegance, from the mode in which they were placed. The fairies had given sweet Helen the art that adorns a home, and brings out a smile from the dingiest corner of hut and attic. Leonard wondered and praised. He kissed his blushing ministrant gratefully, and they sat down in joy to their abstemious meal, when suddenly his face was overclouded--there shot through him the remembrance of Dr. Morgan's words--"The little girl can't stay with you--wrong and nonsensical. I think I know a lady who will take charge of her." "Ah," cried Leonard, sorrowfully, "how could I forget?" And he told Helen what grieved him. Helen at first exclaimed that she would not go. Leonard, rejoiced, then began to talk as usual of his great prospects; and, hastily finishing his meal, as if there were no time to lose, sat down at once to his papers. Then Helen contemplated him sadly, as he bent over his delighted work. And when, lifting his radiant eyes from his MS. he exclaimed, "No, no, you shall _not_ go. _This_ must succeed, and we shall live together in some pretty cottage, where we can see more than one tree"--_then_ Helen sighed, and did not answer this time, "No, I will not go."