“If he would pay a little more attention to his composition,” said Bascombe indifferently, “he might in time make of himself a good speaker. I am not at all sure there are not the elements of an orator in him, if he would only reflect a little on the fine relations between speech and passion, and learn of the best models how to play upon the feelings of a congregation. I declare I don’t know, but he might make a great man of himself. As long as he don’t finish his sentences however, jumbles his figures, and begins and ends abruptly without either exordium or peroration, he needn’t look to make anything of a preacher--and that seems his object.” “If that be his object, he had better join the Methodists at once. He would be a treasure to them,” said Mrs. Ramshorn. “That is not his object, George. How can you say so?” remarked Helen quietly, but with some latent indignation. George smiled a rather unpleasant smile and held his peace. Little more was said on the way home. Helen went to take off her bonnet, but did not re-appear until she was called to their early Sunday dinner. Now George had counted upon a turn in the garden with her before dinner, and was annoyed--more, it is true, because of the emotion which he rightly judged the cause of her not joining him, than the necessity laid on him of eating his dinner without having first unburdened his mind; but the latter fact also had its share in vexing him. When she came into the drawing-room it was plain she had been weeping; but, although they were alone, and would probably have to wait yet a few minutes before their aunt joined them, he resolved in his good nature to be considerate, and say nothing till after dinner, lest he should spoil her appetite. When they rose from the table, she would have again escaped, but when George left his wine and followed her, she consented, at his urgent, almost expostulatory request, to walk once round the garden with him. As soon as they were out of sight of the windows, he began--in the tone of one whose love it is that prompts rebuke. “How COULD you, my dear Helen, have so little care of your health, already so much shaken with nursing your brother, as to yield your mind to the maundering of that silly ecclesiastic, and allow his false eloquence to untune your nerves! Remember your health is the first thing--positively the FIRST and foremost thing to be considered, both for your own sake and that of your friends. Without health, what is anything worth?” Helen made no answer, but she thought with herself there were two or three things for the sake of which she would willingly part with a considerable portion of her health. Her cousin imagined her conscience-stricken, and resumed with yet greater confidence.