CHAPTER II.

'He who sends the storm steers the vessel.'
ADAMS.

Amongst other guests, who formed a small christmas party at the hall, was a barrister, named Inman. He was chatting with Mrs. Middleton, in the drawing room, before dinner was announced: when Helen entered, he half rose, with a look of unfeigned surprise; and then, as though he had been mistaken in his conjecture, he bowed, and returned to his seat. Mrs. Middleton introduced Helen, when he exclaimed, 'I thought so! I believe Miss Sinclair, I have had the the- pleasure

of meeting you before.'

Helen bowed, but her lip refused to utter a syllable, and turning excessively pale, she retreated to a distant part of the room. Mr. Inman perceived the pain his remark had given her, and began to talk with renewed animation, by way of drawing off Mrs. Middleton's attention; which was now rivetted upon Helen's colourless cheek, and tearful eye.

After they returned from dinner, Mrs. Middleton remarked to Helen, 'I find that you and Mr. Inman were previously acquainted, did you know much of him my dear?

The same look of distress passed over Helen's face, as she tremblingly answered in the negative; whilst Mrs. Middleton, though surprised at what she deemed Helen's want of candour, forbore any further allusion to the subject.

In the evening, whilst Helen was absent for a short time with the children, Mr. Inman remarked, 'Is that young lady's name Helen?' 'Yes,' answered Mrs. Middleton, 'I believe that is her name, do you know much of her?'

'Is she visiting you now?' asked he.

'No' replied Mrs. Middleton, 'she is my companion, and also governess to my dear girls; she had a high recommendation, but what may you know of her?'

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Why comparatively little,' answered Mr. Inman, 'though I have seen her several times. She has, however, but too much cause to remember me, poor girl; I was sorry after I had made that foolish remark, when she entered before dinner.'

'Do tell me how it was,' said Mrs. Middleton, 'I always felt certain that it must be through some reverse of fortune, she was compelled to leave home.'

' I will tell you what I know,' said he, 'but lately I had completely lost sight of the family; and out of sight, out of mind. Mr. Sinclair is a man of high family, and was always supposed to be in possession of a fine property. His estate was in - ; altogether it was a very sweet place. They lived in rather an expensive style it must be confessed; and he squandered his money on the turf, and in many other whims, with the most lavish profusion. His friends remonstrated in vain, and he became at length deeply involved; a circumstance which rendered him by no means more amiable to the family, whom his conduct had injured. At length the crisis arrived; and as if to give the finishing stroke, he went abroad with one as guilty as himself; leaving his wife and children to the mercy of the few friends, who were willing to remember them in the trying hour of adversity. I was professionally engaged in their affairs then, therefore my name must always be associated with painful feelings, in the minds of any of the family.

What a sorrowful picture you have pourtrayed,' said Mrs. Middleton; 'but where do they reside now?'

'In Cumberland I believe, but I rather think an aunt took one of the daughters; and no pains or expense were spared to give her a finished education; I have some slight recollection too of her name being Helen.'

'Probably you are right,' answered Mrs. Middleton, 'for she is an accomplished girl; and Lady Stewart recommended her to me, to oblige a relation. The only thing she esteemed a drawback in her character, determined me to engage with her; and so far, I have every reason to deem myself favoured in my choice, but hush! for I hear her step.'

Whilst Helen was engaged in attending to her pupils' evening devotions, she was mentally supplicating for strength and resignation to the divine will. Mr. Inman's presence had revived so many, and such bitter recollections; that it appeared as though misfortune, with all its train of evils, was again present.

Helen had flattered herself with the hope, of her father's history never reaching Mrs. Middleton's ear; coupled as it must be, with disgrace. Now she felt conscious Mr. Inman would, in all probability, divulge the whole of it.

Although culpable had been his conduct, Helen felt he was still her parent; and the pang was greater even than had he ceased to live; yet, as this idea flashed across her mind, she thought it wrong; for she hoped he might yet repent; and though riches were gone, they might once more be happy.

Then the image of her mother, as she appeared when the tidings of her husband's desertion were told her, rose in all the vivid distinctness of past grief before her. Mrs. Sinclair sorrowed with a far deeper and more bitter grief, than if providence had made her a widow: she had borne with all his wayward humours; and had sunk through his selfish extravagance, from riches, and the luxuries which riches purchase, into comparative, nay almost absolute poverty.

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The way too in which her husband had deserted her, added much poignancy to the blow, having been accompanied in his flight, by one who had hastened his ruin. Mrs. Sinclair's sorrow at that moment was too deep for tears; no such relief came, to ease the almost bursting heart; she spoke not, but sat motionless as a statue, with a cheek pale as marble itself. At length the mind once so strong gave way, and in a state of partial derangement, she even now remained.

All these saddening thoughts chased through Helen's mind; nevertheless, she supplicated for submission to acquiesce in the will of God: remembering with a spirit of thankfulness, amidst her sorrow, that God does "not willingly afflict the children of men." No! for "whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth." Afflictions may be said to resemble the lightening; which though it may dismay for a time, nevertheless, purifies the air; and makes us doubly prize a peaceful sky. A few difficulties in a path render us watchful and wary, lest a wrong step cause us trouble or hindrance. So God sends us crosses, not to obstruct our walk; but, in reality, to render it a safe one, by never allowing our attention to relax for long together..

'Why do you look so sad to night Miss Sinclair?' asked Adelaide, 'I want to see your smile come, now do smile before you leave us.'

I wish, Miss Adelaide, you would lie down,' said the maid, who was attending upon them.