feel that I could pardon--freely, gladly--on the slightest
token of repentance; but she--words cannot utter my
abhorrence. Reason forbids, but passion urges strongly;
and I must pray and struggle long ere I subdue it.

It is well that she is leaving to-morrow, for I could not
well endure her presence for another day. This morning
she rose earlier than usual. I found her in the room alone,
when I went down to breakfast.

'Oh, Helen I is it you?' said she, turning as I entered.

I gave an involuntary start back on seeing her, at which
she uttered a short laugh, observing, 'I think we are both
disappointed.'

I came forward and busied myself with the breakfast
things.

'This is the last day I shall burden your hospitality,' said
she, as she seated herself at the table. 'Ah, here comes one
that will not rejoice at it!' she murmured, half to herself, as
Arthur entered the room.

He shook hands with her and wished her good-morning:
then, looking lovingly in her face, and still retaining her hand
in his, murmured pathetically, 'The last--last day!'

'Yes,' said she with some asperity; 'and I rose early to
make the best of it--I have been here alone this half-hour,
and you--you lazy creature-----'

'Well, I thought I was early too,' said he; 'but,' dropping
his voice almost to a whisper, 'you see we are not alone.'

'We never are,' returned she. But they were almost as
good as alone, for I was now standing at the window,
watching the clouds, and struggling to suppress my wrath.

Some more words passed between them, which, happily,
I did not overhear; but Annabella had the audacity to come
and place herself beside me, and even to put her hand upon
my shoulder and say softly, 'You need not grudge him to me,
Helen, for I love him more than ever you could do.'

This put me beside myself. I took her hand and violently
dashed it from me, with an expression of abhorrence and
indignation that could not be suppressed. Startled, almost

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