my arrival, as if she thought, I too was coming to accuse her. I had entered her presence intending to condole with her upon the wickedness of the world, and help her to abuse the vicar and his vile informants, but now I felt positively ashamed to mention the subject, and determined not to refer to it, unless she led the way.
"I am come at an unseasonable hour," said I, assuming a cheerfulness I did not feel, in order to reassure her; "but I won't stay many minutes."
She smiled upon me, faintly it is true, but most kindly—I had almost said thankfully, as her apprehensions were removed.
"How dismal you are, Helen! Why have you no fire?" I said, looking round on the gloomy apartment.
"It is summer yet," she replied.
"But we always have a fire in the evenings—if we can bear it;—and you, especially require one in this cold house and dreary room."
