She stepped upon the narrow iron staircase, and closed the window after her; then she swiftly and noiselessly descended the steps, and stood shivering upon the grass slope.
She looked up at the house: lights blazed in all the windows; but in the garden, sombre darkness reigned. She listened intensely, for she fancied she heard a footfall upon the gravel path, but the sound was not repeated until she heard a light rustling noise; in another moment after this reached her ear she felt herself encircled in the arms of Evangeline, who had hastily thrown a large shawl over her head to protect herself from the cold.
Helen took from her hand the garments for which she had asked, and hastily attired herself.
“I dare not stay longer with you, my own darling Eva,” she whispered to her; “I have escaped, as you see now, from the library, in which papa had locked.”
“But why, Helen?” asked Evangeline.
“Ask me not now, love,” she returned, quickly; “some day you shall be made acquainted with the reason of my flight, and why I have returned only to leave you once more.”
“Oh! Helen, it seems so dreadful for you, who were the brightest ornament of our house, to become suddenly”—
“Its blot, its stain!” interrupted Helen, passionately.
“No, no, no,” interposed Evangeline, hastily. “I meant not that. Oh! pray, pray, Helen, remain with us now; everything will come bright again. If all the others look cold upon you at first, they will come round to regard you as they did ere you left us, and you know, Helen, that I will ever be fond and loving to you, if you will let me.”
Helen folded her to her heart, and kissed her wildly.