I must not here forget to state, that, though only eighteen, Helen had experienced other troubles than those which now bowed her down; and they were such as the youthful mind ever feels most keenly.  She had, with the sanction of her parents, been engaged to Edward Cranston; he was himself considered unexceptionable, and the match was thought a very eligible one; he was five years Helen’s senior, and had just entered the practice of the law, with every prospect of being called to the bar.  He was first attracted by her beauty and afterwards won by her amiable and pleasing manner.  Idolized by his own family, where she first met him, and unremitting in his attention to herself, she soon felt attached, and, confidingly, plighted her troth, and all seemed the couleur de rose.  His stay was some time prolonged, but he had, at length, to leave; it was a hard struggle to him to part from her; and he did not do so without many promises of fidelity.  To see him leave her, was the first trial she knew.  The pang was severe; but his devotion was such, that she doubted not his faith, and most indignantly would she have repudiated the idea that his love for her could lessen; but his disposition was naturally volatile, and once away from her, and within the blandishments of other beauty, he could not resist its power.  He became enslaved by the fascinations of another, and poor Helen was almost forgotten.  Painfully did the conviction force itself upon her, as his letters became first, less frequent, and then less affectionate.  Love is generally quicksighted; but Helen’s own heart was so pure, and so devoted, that it was hard to believe she was no longer beloved.  Hers was, indeed, a delicate position.  She noticed the alteration in Edward Cranston’s style of writing, and fancied it proceeded from any cause but diminution of regard for her; that, she thought, could not be possible; but soon, alas! did she learn, the (to her) sad truth, that her affianced lover was devoted to another, a most beautiful girl, residing in the same town, and it was said, they were engaged, and too true were the reports, which the following letter confirmed.

  “MY DEAR HELEN,

“How shall I write, or where find words to express all I desire to say.  Shall I commence by hoping that absence has led you to regard me with less affection, or shall I honestly say, I no longer love you as you deserve to be loved, and that I am no longer worthy your affection.  It costs me much to say this; but you would not wish me to deceive you; you would not wish me to go perjured from the altar with you.  I most earnestly hope, nay, I feel sure, you will not regret that I have discovered this mistake ere too late for the peace of both.  I have opened my heart and most bitterly do I regret its delinquency; but our affections are involuntary, and not under our control.  Till the last two months, I believed mine to be inviolably yours.  I know I am betrothed to you, and, if you