And where，meantime，was Helen Burns? Why did I not spend these sweet days of liberty with her? Had I forgotten her? or was I so worthless as to have grown tired of her pure society? Surely the Mary Ann Wilson I have mentioned was inferior to my first acquaintance: she could only tell me amusing stories，and reciprocate any racy and pungent gossip I chose to indulge in; while，if I have spoken truth of Helen，she was qualified to give those who enjoyed the privilege of her converse a taste of far higher things.

True，reader; and I knew and felt this: and though I am a defective being，with many faults and few redeeming points，yet I never tired of Helen Burns; nor ever ceased to cherish for her a sentiment of attachment，as strong，tender，and respectful as any that ever animated my heart. How could it be otherwise，when Helen，at all times and under all circumstances，evinced for me a quiet and faithful friendship，which ill-humour never soured，nor irritation never troubled? But Helen was ill at present: for some weeks she had been removed from my sight to I knew not what room upstairs. She was not，I was told，in the hospital portion of the house with the fever patients; for her plaint was consumption，not typhus: and by consumption I，in my ignorance，understood something mild，which time and care would be sure to alleviate.

I was confirmed in this idea by the fact of her once or twice ing downstairs on very warm sunny afternoons，and being taken by Miss Temple into the garden; but，on these occasions，I was not allowed to go and speak to her; I only saw her from the schoolroom window，and then not distinctly; for she was much wrapped up，and sat at a distance under the verandah.