Truth has its own accents, however weak the words it syllables. Helen laughed not now, but walked on with quicker steps; while the youth, the barrier once passed, poured forth with heartfelt eloquence his tale of love, recalling to her mind by many a slight, unnoticed trait, his long-pledged devotion; how he had watched and worshipped her, seeking to win favor in her eyes, and seem not all unworthy of her heart. “It is true,” said he, “I cannot, dare not, ask in return for an affection which should repay my own; but let me hope that what I now speak, the devotion I pledge, is no rejected offering; that although you care not for me, you will not crush forever one who lives but in your smile, that you will give me time to show myself more worthy of the prize I strive for. There is no trial I would not dare--” “I must interrupt you, Captain Forester,” said Helen, with a voice that all her efforts had not rendered quite steady; “it would be an ungenerous requital for the sentiments you say you feel--” “Say!--nay, Helen, I swear it, by every hope that now thrills within me--” “It would be,” resumed she, tremulously, “an ungenerous requital for this, were I to practise any deception on you. I am sincerely, deeply sorry to hear you speak as you have done. I had long since learned to regard you as the friend of Lionel, almost like a brother. The pleasure your society afforded one I am most attached to increased the feeling; and as intimacy increased between us, I thought how happy were it if the ambitions of life did not withdraw from home the sons whose kindness can be as thoughtful and as tender as that of the daughters of the house. Shall I confess it? I almost wished my brother like you; but yet all this was not love,--nay, for I will be frank, at whatever cost,--I had never felt this towards you, if I suspected your sentiments towards me--” “But, dearest Helen--” “Hear me out. There is but one way in which the impropriety of such a meeting as this can be obviated, chance though it be, and that is, by perfect candor. I have told you the simple truth, not with any undervaluing sense of the affection you proffer, still less with any coquetry of reserve. I should be unworthy of the heart you offer me, since I could not give my own in exchange.” “Do you deny me all hope?” said he, in an accent almost bursting with grief. “I am not arrogant enough to say I shall never change; but I am honest enough to tell you that I do not expect it.” “Farewell, then, Helen! I do not love you less that you have taught me to think more humbly of myself. Good-by--forever!” “It is better it should come to this,” said Helen, faintly; and she held out her hand towards him. “Good-by, Forester!” He pressed one long and burning kiss upon her hand, and turned away, while she, pushing open the door, entered the little garden. Scarcely, however, was the door closed behind her, when the calm courage in which she spoke forsook her, and she burst into tears.