"No, no; you would fear me again ere night-time, and I might not be
always in the right mood to listen to a voice like yours, child. Your
Leonard has a noble heart and rare gifts. He should rise yet, and he
shall. I will not drag him into the mire. Good-by,--you will see me no
more." He broke from Helen, cleared the stairs with a bound, and was out
of the house.

When Leonard returned he was surprised to hear his unwelcome guest was
gone,--but Helen did not venture to tell him of her interposition. She
knew instinctively how such officiousness would mortify and offend the
pride of man; but she never again spoke harshly of poor Burley. Leonard
supposed that he should either see or hear of the humourist in the course
of the day. Finding he did not, he went in search of him at his old
haunts; but no trace. He inquired at the "Beehive" if they knew there of
his new address, but no tidings of Burley could be obtained.

As he came home disappointed and anxious, for he felt uneasy as to the
disappearance of his wild friend, Mrs. Smedley met him at the door.

"Please, sir, suit yourself with another lodging," said she. "I can have
no such singings and shoutings going on at night in my house. And that
poor little girl, too! you should be ashamed of yourself."

Leonard frowned, and passed by.




CHAPTER XI.