cold, white cheeks. It was May, whose heart had been gushing over with
tenderness and sympathy, who had longed to throw her arms around her,
and, welcome her home the moment she entered the house, but who dared
not interfere with her uncle's peculiar ways, or move until he led.

"Do not mind him, dear Helen; it is his ways: he seems rough and stern,
but in reality he is kind and good, dear," she exclaimed.

"You are very kind; but, oh, I did not expect such a reception as this.
I hoped for something very, very different. I cannot stay here--it
would kill me," she sobbed, struggling to disengage her hand from
Mary's.

"Yes you will, dear," pleaded May. "Uncle Stillinghast is like our old
clock--it never strikes the hour true, yet the hands are always right
to a second. So do try, and not to mind."

"Who are you?"

"I?" asked May, looking with a smile of astonishment at her. "I am
your cousin, May Brooke; an orphan like yourself, dear, to whom our
uncle has given house and home."

"Are you happy here?"

"Very happy. I have things to contend with sometimes which are not
altogether agreeable, but I trip along over them just as I do over
muddy places in the street, for fear, you know, of soiling my robe, if
I floundered in them!" said May, laughing. Helen did not understand
the hidden and beautiful meaning couched under May's expressions; she