"But if he could not marry you," rejoined her counsellor.
"Didn't I tell you that the thought of marriage never entered my head," persisted the girl.
"You did, my child, but it won't do in this world," and the old man shook his head.
"What! can I not love the man of my choice—especially if I know that he loves me? Who will prevent me loving him, thinking of him, praying for him, dying for him, if need be? Who shall tear his image from my heart, through whatever trials I may have to pass for his sake?"
"Helen, you are a noble girl?" cried our antiquary with enthusiasm. I have no more arguments to use. I wish there were a few more like you in the world. But hark ye, my child, there are others who have felt like yourself for a time—but how long has it lasted?
"The greater part of your sex, I fear, find it easy to overthrow an old love for a new one. Then follow other new ones in succession, till they end perhaps in marrying someone they don't love, and can't love; all for wealth, title, or position."
"You surely don't think I could be so base, Mr. Oldstone," cried the girl, recoiling in horror.
"No, my dear. That is the very last thing I should believe of you," replied her friend.
"I am glad of that," said the girl.
"Helen!" cried the voice of Dame Hearty, outside; "Where are you?" "Here, mother," answered her daughter. "I was only having a word with Mr. Oldstone," and she hurried away, leaving the antiquary alone with his writing materials.