“I cannot, Helen,” replied Rose, after a pause, during which her cousin’s glittering inquiring eyes were fixed upon her face—­“I cannot; I could not answer to my God at the last day for delivering the soul he gave to my care to be so tutored (forgive me) as to forget Him in all things.”

“Forget God!” repeated Helen once or twice—­“I forget God!  Do you think I am a heathen?”

“No, cousin—­no—­for you have all knowledge of the truth; but knowledge, and profiting by our knowledge, are different.  My little gentle-hearted girl will be happier far in her own sphere.  I could not see her degraded to bait a trap for any purpose; she will be happy, happier in her own sphere.”

The lady bit her compressed lips; but during her whole life she never gave up a point, nor an object, proving how necessary it is that the strong mind should be well and highly directed.  Small feeble minds pass through the world doing little good and little harm, but to train a large mind is worth the difficulty—­worth the trouble it occasions:  its possession is either a great blessing or a great curse.  To Helen it was the latter, and curses never fall singly.  “You have boys to provide for,” she said, “and if I adopted that child, I would not suffer their station to disgrace their sister.”

“I am sure you mean us kindly and generously; nor am I blind to the advantages of such an offer for my boys.  Their father has prospered greatly, and could at this moment place them in any profession they chose—­still influence would help them forward; but the advancement of one child must not be purchased by”—­Rose paused for a word—­she did not wish to hurt her cousin’s feelings—­and yet none suggested itself but what she conceived to be the true one, and she repeated, lowly and gently, her opinion, prefacing it with, “You will forgive in this matter my plain speaking, but the advancement of one child must not be purchased by the sacrifice of another.”

“Your prejudices have bewildered your understanding,” exclaimed the lady.  “Whatever my ambition may be, my morality is unimpeached; a vestal would lose none of her purity beneath my roof.”

“Granted, fully and truly; woman’s first virtue is untainted, but that is not her only one; forgive me.  I have no right to judge or dictate, nor to give an unasked opinion; I am grateful for your kindness; but my child, given to me as a blessing for time and a treasure for eternity, must remain beneath my roof until her mind and character are formed.”

“You are mad, Rose; consider her future happiness”—­

“Oh, Helen! are you more happy than your humble cousin?”

“She would be brought up in the sphere I was thrust into, and have none of the contentions I have had to endure,” said Helen.

“A sphere full of whirlpools and quicksands,” replied the mother.  “The fancy you have taken to her might pass away.  She might be taught the bitterness of eating a dependant’s bread, and the soft and luxurious habits of her early days would unfit her for bearing so heavy a burden; it would be in vain then to recall her to her humble home; she would have lost all relish for it.  It might please God to take you after a few years, and my poor child would be returned to what she would then consider poverty.  Urge me no more, I entreat you.”