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live tree casts off the dead leaf to the winds of winter and never see me more if he plases. And if I knew where to go, maybe I wouldn't follow his track through the world and be his born slave to the end of my days!—I'll go now, yer honour-for whatever I may feel, I have no more to say.'

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The good-natured Major had the art, like all good-natured people, of rousing every kindly feeling within his influenee. He went round and about in all directions, puffing and fussing, filled with real anxiety, and bitter regret that he had not been more alive to their circumstances; but though everyone was anxious, some from interested motives, others from a better feeling-no trace could be discovered of Mr. Lyndsey's whereabouts. A lady, whose delicate health entailed sleepless nights, had heard the hall-door of Violet-cottage shut-to twice-once before day-break, when the servant stated she had been sent out; and again about an hour afterwards. I had no doubt that Mr. Lyndsey's diseased state of mind had led to some wild project, which the active romance of Helen caught at; and no matter

what was her father's wish, she would have acted in accordance with it. It is impossible to imagine aught more devoted than had become her love for him, since their residence at Violet-cottage: it seemed as though the entire affection of her nature was poured out at his feet. Her mother complained, and with reason, that Helen cared only for her father, but she forgot that she had thrown her daughter's love from her; and with such a temperament as Helen's repulsed affection could only find refuge in hate; the more she shunned the one, the more closely she clung to the other, and yet her genius found sympathy from neither: her mother would not listen to her compositions, but simply called them 'rubbish ;" and her father, though he appeared to listen, never really heard. The ease and grace with which she versified the precocity of her mind-the originality of her thoughts-were unvalued; they were not comprehended, much less appreciated. Her fits of abstraction-her desire to be alone-were not understood by either parent, but they warred so completely with her mother's views and habits, who found fault

with everything and was content with nothing, that the misery of both was easily accounted for. Suddenly, and most painfully, the idea suggested itself to me that Helen herself, if she did not plan, rejoiced at, this concealment, thinking that it saved her from the rule of her aunt Middleton; and yet, if such had been the case, she had such faith in my secrecy, such perfect and entire confidence in my affection, that I thought, nay, (perplexed though I was) after the lapse of a few minutes, I believed, that Helen Lyndsey would have told me if such had been her desire.

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CHAPTER IX.

"Thus star by star declines,
Till all are pass'd away,

As morning high and higher shines,

To pure and perfect day;

Nor sink those stars in empty night,—

They hide themselves in Heaven's own light."

MONTGOMERY.

SORROWS, like tears, come not singly! Another letter from Florence determined me to go at once to Little Hampton. Mr. Middleton had become worse; yet still Mrs. Middleton did not fail to manifest much anxiety for her brother, little knowing how completely he had bewildered us by his disappearance. Again the village was busied with surmises as to what had become of Mr. Lyndsey and his child.

Again the various dispositions of its inhabitants prompted to uncharitable or charitable conclusions. Again the Misses Saunders flaunted across the heath-up the hill and down the hill; calling at the Library' (that great news mart in every village), full of newly-discovered wants, to inquire for some by-gone book, or to ask the price of the month's 'Fashions,' as if it had not been marked on the cover; or to borrow a catalogue, or 'look at some pencils; or buy a quarter of a quire of letter paper and two pens; but, in reality, to discover if there was any 'fresh news of the Lyndseys.' And there they generally met Mrs. Bruce and others, intent on the same errand: even poor Miss Ryland, wandered in to ask the price of a 'pricked pattern,' but really in the hope that she might gather some crumb of comfort to carry home to her helpless sister, who had long considered 'Miss Helen' as the most wonderful creature ever born into the world. Many sought out and questioned Jerry, so that the poor fellow was almost heart-broken, and in utter despair betook himself to the loft at

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