“Helen, if you only could know as much as I know about these things,” said Mrs. Roberts, “if you only could know the difference between being in the middle and at the top of the social ladder!  Dear, why will you choose anything but the best when you can have the best if you want it?  I tell you once for all I do not care how clever you are, or how beautiful you are, the great people will look down on you for an upstart if you cannot match them and make just as much of a show.  And why can you not discover what your own tastes are?  I watched you last night, child; anyone could have seen that you were in your element!  You outshone everyone, Helen, and you should do just the same all your life.  Can you not see just what that means to you?”

“Yes, Auntie,” said Helen, “but then—­”

“Were you not perfectly happy last night?” interrupted the other.

“No,” protested the other, “that’s just what I was going to say.”

“The only reason in the world why you are not, my dear, is that you were tormenting yourself with foolish scruples.  Can you not see that if you once had the courage to rid yourself of them it would be all that you need.  Why are you so weak, Helen?”

“It is not weak!” exclaimed the other.

“Yes,” asserted Mrs. Roberts, “I say it is weak.  It is weak of you not to comprehend what your life is to be, and what you need for your happiness.  It is a shame for you to make no use of the glorious gifts that are yours, and to cramp and hinder all your own progress.  I want you to have room to show your true powers, Helen!”

Helen had been leaning over the foot of the bed listening to her aunt, stirred again by all her old emotion, and angry with herself for being stirred; her unspoken resolution was not quite so steady as it had been, tho like all good resolutions it remained in her mind to torment her.

She sprang up suddenly with a very nervous and forced laugh.  “I’m glad I don’t have to argue with you, Auntie,” she said, “and that I’m saved the trouble of worrying myself ill.  You see the Fates are on my side,—­I must have time to think, whether I want to or not.”  It was that comfort which saved her from further struggle with herself upon the subject. (Helen much preferred being happy to struggling.) She set hurriedly to work to dress, for her aunt told her that the guests were nearly ready for breakfast.

“Nobody could sleep since all the excitement,” she said.  “I wonder it did not wake you.”

“I was tired,” said Helen; “I guess that was it.”

“You’ll find the breakfast rather a sombre repast,” added Mrs. Roberts, pathetically.  “I’ve been up nearly three hours myself, so frightened about poor Mr. Howard; I had neveer seen anyone so dreadfully ill, and I was quite certain he was in his death agony.”

“Aunt Polly!” cried Helen with a sudden wild start, “why do you talk like that?”

“I won’t say any more about it,” was the reply, “only hurry up.  And put on your best looks, my dear, for Mr. Harrison to carry away in his memory.”