"Poor man" said she, sarcastically, "his kind have greatly wronged him!"
"They have!" cried I—"and they shall wrong him no more—his wife shall undo what his mother did!"
"Well!" said she, after a short pause. "I must say, Helen, I thought better of your judgment than this—and your taste too. How you can love such a man I cannot tell, or what pleasure you can find in his company; for 'What fellowship hath light with darkness; or he that believeth with an infidel?'"
"He is not an infidel;—and I am not light, and he is not darkness, his worst and only vice is thoughtlessness."
"And thoughtlessness," pursued my aunt, "may lead to every crime, and will but poorly excuse our errors in the sight of God. Mr. Huntingdon, I suppose, is not without the common faculties of men: he is not so light-headed as to be irresponsible: his maker has endowed him with reason and conscience as well as the
