Tales and Novels, vol 10

Helen, by Maria Edgeworth

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Title: Helen
Author: Maria Edgeworth
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TALES AND NOVELS
BY
MARIA EDGEWORTH.

IN TEN VOLUMES.
WITH ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.

VOL. X.
HELEN.
1857.

HELEN.
CHAPTER I.
"There is Helen in the lime-walk," said Mrs. Collingwood to her

husband, as she looked out of the window. The slight figure of a young
person in deep mourning appeared between the trees,--"How slowly she
walks! She looks very unhappy!"
"Yes," said Mr. Collingwood, with a sigh, "she is young to know
sorrow, and to struggle with difficulties to which she is quite unsuited
both by nature and by education, difficulties which no one could ever
have foreseen. How changed are all her prospects!"
"Changed indeed!" said Mrs. Collingwood, "pretty young creature!--Do
you recollect how gay she was when first we came to Cecilhurst? and
even last year, when she had hopes of her uncle's recovery, and when
he talked of taking her to London, how she enjoyed the thoughts of
going there! The world was bright before her then. How cruel of that
uncle, with all his fondness for her, never to think what was to become
of her the moment he was dead: to breed her up as an heiress, and leave
her a beggar!"
"But what is to be done, my dear?" said her husband.
"I am sure I do not know; I can only feel for her, you must think for
her."
"Then I think I must tell her directly of the state in which her uncle's
affairs are left, and that there is no provision for her."
"Not yet, my dear," said Mrs, Collingwood: "I don't mean about there
being no provision for herself, that would not strike her, but her uncle's
debts,--there is the point: she would feel dreadfully the disgrace to his
memory--she loved him so tenderly!"
"Yet it must be told," said Mr. Collingwood, resolutely "and perhaps it
will be better now; she will feel it less, while her mind is absorbed by
grief for him."
Helen was the only daughter of colonel and Lady Anne Stanley; her
parents had both died when she was too young to know her loss, nor
had she ever felt till now that she was an orphan, for she had been

adopted and brought up with the greatest tenderness by her uncle, Dean
Stanley, a man of genius, learning, and sincere piety, with the most
affectionate heart, and a highly cultivated understanding. But on one
subject he really had not common sense; in money matters he was
inconceivably imprudent and extravagant; extravagant from charity,
from taste, from habit. He possessed rich benefices in the church, and
an ample private fortune, and it was expected that his niece would be a
great heiress--he had often said so himself, and his fondness for her
confirmed every one in this belief. But the dean's taste warred against
his affection: his too hospitable, magnificent establishment had
exceeded his income; he had too much indulged his passion for all the
fine arts, of which he was a liberal patron: he had collected a
magnificent library, and had lavished immense sums of money on
architectural embellishments. Cursed with too fine a taste, and with too
soft a heart--a heart too well knowing how to yield, never could he
deny himself, much less any other human being, any gratification
which money could command; and soon the necessary consequence
was, that he had no money to command, his affairs fell into
embarrassment--his estate was sold; but, as he continued