“I’ll do that much with pleasure,” was the answer; “and please have the maid come up to pack my trunks again; for you won’t want me to stay now, of course.”

“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Roberts, “not unless you want to.  Our house won’t be a very cheerful place, I fear.”

“I’ll come back in a week or two, when you are ready for me,” Helen added; “in the meantime I can be thinking about Mr. Harrison.”

Helen was soon on her way downstairs, for it was terrifying to her to be alone and in the neighborhood of Mr. Howard.  She found a sombre gathering indeed, for the guests spoke to each other only in half-whispers, and there were few smiles to be seen.  Helen found herself placed opposite Mr. Harrison at the table, and she had a chance to study him by glances through the meal.  “He’s well dressed, anyway,” she mused, “and he isn’t altogether bad.  I wonder if I’d dare to marry him.”

After breakfast Helen strolled out upon the piazza, perhaps with some purpose in her mind; for it is not unpleasant to toy with a temptation, even when one means to resist it.  At any rate, she was a little excited when she heard Mr. Harrison coming out to join her there.

“Rather a sad ending of our little party, wasn’t it, Miss Davis?” he said.

“Yes,” answered the girl, “I feel so sorry for poor Mr. Howard.”

“He seemed to be rather ill last night,” said the other.  He was going to add that the fact perhaps accounted for the invalid’s severity, but he was afraid of shocking Helen by his levity,—­a not entirely necessary precaution, unfortunately.

“You are going back to town this morning, with the others?” Helen asked.

“No,” said Mr. Harrison, somewhat to her surprise; “I have a different plan.”

“Good Heavens, does he suppose he’s going to stay here with me?” thought the girl.

“I received your aunt’s permission to ask you,” continued Mr. Harrison, “and so I need only yours.”

“For what?” Helen inquired, with varied emotions.

“To drive you over to Oakdale with my rig,” said the other.  “I had it brought down, you know, because I thought there might be a chance to use it.”

Helen had turned slightly paler, and was staring in front of her.

“Are you not fond of driving, then, Miss Davis?” asked the other, as she hesitated.

“Yes,” said Helen, “but I don’t like to trouble you—­”

“I assure you it will be the greatest pleasure in the world,” said Mr. Harrison; “I only regret that I shall not be able to see more of you, Miss Davis; it is only for the present, I hope.”

“Thank you,” said Helen, still very faintly.

“And I have a pair of horses that I am rather proud of,” added Mr. Harrison, laughing; “I should like you to tell me what you think of them.  Will you give me the pleasure?”

And Helen could not hesitate very much longer without being rude.  “If you really wish it, Mr. Harrison,” she said, “very well.”  And then someone else came out on the piazza and cut short the conversation; Helen had no time to think any more about the matter, but she had a disagreeable consciousness that her blood was flowing faster again, and that her old agitation was back in all its strength.  Soon afterwards Mrs. Roberts came out and joined the two.