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My Novel — Volume 07 by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
page 108 of 111 (97%)
"Leave him!" exclaimed Helen, and the rose on her cheek faded.

Harley was not displeased to see her emotion. He would have been
disappointed in her heart if it had been less susceptible to affection.

"It is hard on you, Helen," said he, "to be separated from one who has
been to you as a brother. Do not hate me for doing so. But I consider
myself your guardian, and your home as yet must be mine. We are going
from this land of cloud and mist, going as into the world of summer.
Well, that does not content you. You weep, my child; you mourn your own
friend, but do not forget your father's. I am alone, and often sad,
Helen; will you not comfort me? You press my hand, but you must learn to
smile on me also. You are born to be the comforter. Comforters are not
egotists; they are always cheerful when they console."

The voice of Harley was so sweet and his words went so home to the
child's heart, that she looked up and smiled in his face as he kissed her
ingenuous brow. But then she thought of Leonard, and felt so solitary,
so bereft, that tears burst forth again. Before these were dried,
Leonard himself entered, and, obeying an irresistible impulse, she sprang
to his arms, and leaning her head on his shoulder, sobbed out,

"I am going from you, brother; do not grieve, do not miss me."

Harley was much moved: he folded his arms, and contemplated them both
silently,--and his own eyes were moist. "This heart," thought he, "will
be worth the winning!"

He drew aside Leonard, and whispered, "Soothe, but encourage and support
her. I leave you together; come to me in the garden later."
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