STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, DECEMBER 3, 1881.

PROBATION: A TALE OF THE LANCASHIRE COTTON FAMINE;

By MISS JESSIE FOTHERGILL,

or of "Ilealey," "Aldyth," "Tho First Violin," etc.

CHAPTER XXXV.

HOW HELENA CAME INTO nER FOR TUNE.

*TnE rooms at Castlo Hill were nearly full, nnd tho ball had just begun, when the Oakcnrod party arrived. Sebastian offered his arm to his mother, and sho took it, ■both of them having a very strong sense of the fact that the courtesy was a mero out side show, and that they would rather havo hecn any number of miles apart. Followed by Hugo, they penetrated through the large square hall and the coffee room to the drawing room, which blazed in the full splendour of unlimited waxlights. In the centre of the room, looking very hot and very uncomfortable, they found Mrs Spence ley, alone. Her lord was nowhere to he seen, though her son wits stationed at some little distance from her, helping her in the discharge of her duties with a Thanshopian grace and dignity all his own. Sebastian, when his mother had finished her greetings and congratulations, wont up to Mrs Spcncelcy, and in his turn paid his devoirs.

The lady bore upon hor face distinct truces of uneasiness of mind. There was something terrible and bizarre in tho con trast between her expression and her attire. Helena had considerately tried to arrange lier dress for her, with the natural sense of beauty and harmony of colour nnd material which she so strongly possessed. She had endeavoured to soften down tlie radiant lines contemplated by Mrs Spencelcy, and had succeeded in inducing her, rather, to dress herself in a magnificent robe of black satin. Diamonds twinkled upon her spacious bosom, and diamond pins fastened her gorgeous lace cap. Here, Helena's offo-ts had ceased to produce any effect. At this point Mrs Spencelcy's own taste in dress asserted itself. She had thrown ■over her shoulders a floating scarf of crimson gauze, intermixed with lines of orient gold, and over which wandered abnormally large bunches of abnormally large grapes—purple •grapes, with leaves of the same phenomenal proportion-. This treasure had been put on m order, as she explained to Helena, " to cover my shoulders and givo me a littlo colour; for say what you will, nblack satin and a white lace cap is not full enough for a woman of my years." In despairing resignation Helena had submitted, and the result was the appari tion already described, looking, with the troubled puzzlfJ expression on her highly coloured face, and the restless wandering of iter gentle dark eyes, altogether so grotesque that Sebastian's quick observa tion instantly suspected something behind the gay show which surrounded them. "I'm glad to sco you, Mr Mallorjr," she said, giving him her hand, and with an effort giving her attontionto him. '' I hope you'll enjoy yourself, I'm sure. We've done all we could think of to make people enjoy themselves; but it is very provoking, Spenceley's not coming at the last minute, isn't it?"

"I thought I missed Mr Spenceley. Is he engaged?" "Oh, it's this horrid business, you know. I said to him, I said 'Spenceley, if business is so uncertain, it's a very sure thing that we oughtn't to be giving balls in this style : ' not bu; what I am vory glad to see yon, and I hope you'll enjoy it," she hastened to add. "He had to go off to Liverpool early this morning, and he said he might have to come home by Manches ter, but he'd try to be with us before we began. However, he hasn't turned up." "Very likely he has been detained." " I expect so. These are anxious times, and it keeps a man on the strain, with things going up and then down, and not knowing how anything will turn out," said Mrs Spenceley lucidly. "But aren't you going to dance, Mr Mallory? There's lots of young ladies will be delighted to dance with yon. See! there's little Fanny Kay sitting out—the first dance, too. Do you know hor?" "Yes, thank you. I don't think I will •dance at present. I'm looking for Miss .Spencelcy, to congratulate her; but she is not here', I think." "She's in the ballroom. You see she had to open the ball, being for her own birthday and all, and some of them wero very anxious to begin. It makes it very awkward, Spenceley's being away. But you'll sco Helena directly, I dare say. Bhc said she should come straight here when the dance was over." ■ "I think I will go aiidjsce if it is over," said Sebastian, who saw Hugo leading oft'a white-robed virgin to the ballroom. " Ay, do; I'm sure they must be nearly done by now," she replied, drawing her dazzling scarf more closely about her, and obstinately refusing to lessen her fatigue by sitting down., Sebastian crossed the hall, and at the ■door of the ballroom met Helena and her partner coming out. She was leaning on the arm of an elderly man, one of the Thanshopo magnates, to whose lot it had fallen to guide her through the ma2es of a duty-quadrille, by way of opening the ball. Helena looked bored, and the gentleman looked no less so. They wero making straight for the drawing room, in order to £ct rid of each other as soon as possible. Helena did not at once see Sebastian, and he had time to notice how downcast and pale sho looked, although so lovely, Mr Kawsnn, her partner, was at this mo ment "collared " m a summary manner by an acquaintance, and appeared particularly anxious to talk with him on congenial subjects Mr Mallory therefore seized the opportunity to advance and say: "Good evening, Miss Spenceley." Helena started, and turned quickly to him.

"Mrßawson,"proceeded Sebastian, "I see you are engaged. Allow me to take Miss Spenceley to the drawing room—or wherever else you please," he added _in a lower voice, as Mr Rawson, with evident gratitude, gave up his charge, and they walked away, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

"Now he is happy with rt friend of his own age," remarked Sebastian. "I could notlind you in tho drawing room, so I came to seek you, in order to oiler you my sincere congratulations upon this occa sion."

' " Why so sincere. You speak so empha tically that I begin to doubt your sincerity. Why congratulate me at ;>ll ?"

" What a question 1 I always understood from your own words that you looked for ward to your twenty-first birthday as a moment of emancipation, when you would not bo trodden down any more, and could really show the sex which fails to meet your approval what you think of them and

"I wish you would not keep talking in that way," said Helena. "It does not aniuso me in tho least, and I do not see what fun there is in it."

'' Fun I I had no idea of fun 1 You shock me. lam in the most solemn earnest. I beg to be allowed to offer my congratula tions to the heroine of the present occasion, and to wish yon ' many happy returns of this day.' You will permit me to do that."

"lain not a heroine, and the present occasion requires anything but congratu lations," was aIL Helena said. Her wonted brilliance and high spirits had quite deserted her, even in the Sresencc of Sebastian Mnllory, for whose electation they were umally wont to How rather more rapidly than nt other times. In this new and more pensive mood Sebas tian found the charm which he had always owned a strong ono. He had never before found her so attractive Her dress was less splendid, and more airy and girlish, than usual. It was white, and full nnd flowing, suggestive of tulle illusion and silvery clouds, and was dotted all over with little bunches of rosebuds. There was a string of pearls round her lovely throat; nnd for all her paleness nnd downcast looks, hor beauty came out triumphant. "She ia a lovely creature I" he thought, glancing downwards at the serious face and the dark lashes which swept her cheek.

" Not a heroine 1" he said. "You must bo one to-night whether you like it or not, And as for congratulations, 1 could offer you a hundred reasons why people should con gratulate you ; but to confine myself to one, you are Helena Spenceley, Don't you think that is reason enough for congratu lation ?"

They had wandered into a little anteroom, divided by curtains from one of the other sitting rooms, and as Sebastian asked the last question, they were standing in the middlo of the room, and Helena looked at him. Her faco was sad, and her eyes were bright with tears. "It is of no use; you cannot make me angry to-night even by laughing at me ; but if you want the satisfaction of knowing that your remarks wound me, take it : it is SO."

" Helena 1 Miss Spenceley 1" lie stam mered, in confusion, for his words had not been ires from malice, and he knew it. What he had not known was that Helena was in no mood for battle-that she did not even wish to quarrel with him. " If you arc offended I beg your pardon," ho said. "I did not mean anything like what you imagine. And since you do not choose to be congratulated, I withdraw the congratulations. May I say you have my good wishes ?" " Not unless you mean it," said Helena, coldly; "and, when you think how diffe rent our thoughts, and wishes.'and hopes, and objects in life are, you will, I hope, hesitate beforo making more pretty speeches." "You arc vory severe. I think I had better say no more on tho subject. But," he added, with that air of almost affectio nate interest which Helena believed she so greatly resented, "you are downcast and out of spirits to-night—not ns you -hould be for your birthday ball How is it ?" 11l so matter-of-fact a tone was tlie ques tion asked that Helena scarcely felt it strange that he should put it, and began in a docile manner to explain. "How can .1 be otnenvise? It is such nonsense. What is the good of having a ball ? I didn't want a ball. I wanted to be quiet. Igo about every day, from house to house, and see people starving-much better people than I am, or ever shall be— and then I have to come home, and sco money flung away on a ball—for me— because such an important personage has condescended to live twonty-one years in this horrid, grimy old world ; and to put on a dress that has co*t—no, I; will never reveal all my shame, but 1 could tear my dress to pieces-when I think of a woman whom I saw this afternoon, and who was crying as if her heart would break, because she had topawnher husband's and children's Sunday clothes, and their best tea things that she had when she was married. I thought of this dress, which was got on purpose for me at Pari!*, and which cost about ten times as much as the materials that made it are Worth," said Helena pas sionately, " and when I put it on I felt as if I were putting on my shroivl." " I am very sorry—only you won't believe it, because I say so, but surely now it will be different ? Yott must not get morbid ; that never does any good. You will have wealth of your own now, and bo your own mistress, when you can take your revengo on all theso fine clothes, and go about m homespun, or even sackOloth, if you choose." .." i.'.i ■'>

"Yes," said Helena, dispiritedly, "I know j but I should not like it. I love expensive things, and I hato coarse and common ones. And I am beginning to think that perhaps I am not such a very fit person to have money. I have heard a great deal about money lately, aud I don't fancy it so easy to manage as I. used to think."

"Miss Mereweather will help you," he said, half smiling. " Don't namcMiss Mercwoather to me, said Helena, with sudden animation. " She has deceived me cruelly. 1 never was so cuthip about anything." " What has she done?"

"She has got married," said Helena, in a determined voice, as if anxious to get tbe worst over. "Got married! Why . . and a very good wife she will make, if she has got the right sort of husband. I remember think ing that evening I met her here what a capital head of a large establishment she would make "

" Did you ?" said Helena, with v curious quiver in her voice, half laughter, half as tonishment. "Well you must have been right. She has married a clergyman, who

is tho head of a vory large boy's school—a sort of college." "The very thing for her. I wish, when you write, you would ask her if she remembers my insignificance, and offer my wnrniest congratulations and good wishes." " When I write 1" said Helena, scorn fully. " I wrote to her once, after I heard of it, but never again. I told her niy mind."

'' Did you really? What did you say ?" " I said sho was a traitor to her sex and her cause, and that, ns I still held my old opinions, I could not he her friend any longer." " How awful for her : May I ask whether she made any reply ?" " Oh, yes 1" said Helena, hor colour rising. " Sho mnde a very stupid reply." "Won't you tell me what it was t "No j it was too silly." " I holievc you got the worst of it." "At loast it was too ridiculous to repeat." "Perhaps she said, * Wait and. see ;' or * Don't shout till you ore out of tho wood 1' only more elegantly expressed." " She—oh, there is Hugo coming I This is my first dance with him." "Miss Spciiccley, will you be very kind to Hugo to-night ? Really and truly he has hud a groat deal of trouble." "I will. Poor boy 1" "And have you any dances left ? A waltz 1 though I can hardly hope it. You must have been engaged long ago for the whole evening ?" "In that case you might have spared yourself tho trouble of asking," said Helena rather defiantly; but as their eyes met, hers wavered. " Perhaps you have still one left," said he, capturing her programme and opening

"It looks very full," he said ; " but—ah, yes ! here is ono, a waltz—two waltzes. This is extraordinary—my luck, I mean; don't you think so ? And may I " He paused, looking inquiringly at hor as ho held tho pencil suspended over the card. "Two waltzes !" exclaimed Helena, in nocently. " Oh, but that must be v mistake. I know when Mr Coiisterdine came just now I told him I had not one left." "No doubt you told him what was good for him," said Sebastian, with laudable ■ravity, "At least we will make it quite sure now. There 1 'S.M. 0, aud S.M., 10.' Thank you, very much." With a bow and a half smile he resigned her to Hugo, who came up at that moment to offer congratulations and to claim his dance, while Sebastian departed to while away the time until "Number 0" should begin. . _ . ... As lie danced only once or twice with anyone but Helena, he bad ample opportu nity of observing tlie general features of the entertainment, and he soon saw that Helena's depression was but a part of that obvious more or less throughout the whole assembly. The rooms were dazzling, the decorations were unutterably gorgeous, the brilliance of the lights amounted to an ab solute glare, and became oppressive and terrible. On all sides there was evidence of tho most lavish expenditure; flower's, furniture, attendants, refreshments, all seemed to cry in loud and blatant voices, "Try us ; wo aro of tho very best. No stint here, because expense is no object, absolutely none at all." It would have been exceedingly amusing, and Sebastian waa by no means slow to sco the humorous sido of ambitious entertainments of thai, kind ; but the amusing part of it was quite overcome nnd swamped by the great and nameless cloud that hung over it all. What was the reason of that cloud ? Surely not the simple fact that the master of the house was absent That alone would have been a relief rather than otherwise. For he came not,and came not, and poor Mrs Spencelcy still looked ill at caso ; and at last Sebastian noticed some one else begin to look ill nt ease, too, and to glance round with a suspicious watchful air now and then. That person was Frederick Spencelcy. Something was wrong, something lay behind it all, thought Sebastian, as he stood in the cool hall after bis first dance with Helona-that is to say, between ten and eleven o'clock. During that dance they had quite forgotten to flout each other, or to do anything but enjoy themselves. He had said all he could to raise that nameless cloud from her face, andhehnd been startled to find what brilliant success had attended his efforts. Helena had soon smiled again, and had half confessed that she had kept the two, dances for him, and had oven blushed' and laughed when ho teased her about it.' He was thinking of that waltz, and humming the tune to which they had danced as he paced about the hall, while he still seemed to feel Helena lightly resting in his arms, her fleet foot keeping pace wiih his; and he began to wish that he had not four whole dances to wait before bis next one with came. " She is very lovely, and there is some thing very bewitching about her," lie said to himself for the second time that even ing. A dance was going On in the ball-room, and the hall at the moment was empty, save for himself. He paused before a huge mirror, which had been raised at One end of it, and in front of which was erected a fragrant pyramid of flowers and ferns, delicate hothouse blossoms, and feathery, aromatic leaves. There was a blaze of light all around, and the staircase and part of the gallery running round tlie second story were reflected in the mirror. Sebastian stood before the pyramid of flowers, and gently touched first one and then another, and then his eyes fell upon tho reflection of his own face, and he was surprised to see how grave it looked ; for he did not feel particu larly grave at that moment, and that inter view with Adrienne Blisset seemed to hang like a dream in the far background of his consciousness,while another faco and form, flower—crowned and glowing beautiful, ad vanced to tho front. Suddenly he became conscious, as it wero of some shadow crossing the glass, and looking higher, to whore the staircase was reflected, he saw the figure of a man stealing carefully, noiselessly up the stairs, keeping well to'the wall, with averted faco, as if anxious to get as quickly as possible out of all that obtrusive glare of light and stream of dancing sound. Sebastian's first thought naturally re solved itself into the words, "athief in the night." Some evil-disposed person who thought to penetrate to some of the bed rooms, in the confusion, and perhaps reap a harvest of neglected brooches, watches, or shawl pins. In such a case it was his duty

at once to warn tho servants, and lie was in the act of turning to go and to so as quickly as possible when the figure reached the head of tho first flight of stairs and turned to mount the next. As this happened Sebastian caught a momentary glimpse of the face. He was long-sighted and not given to making mistakes in the matter of identity. The man who was stealing so quietly up the stairs in such evident fear of detection was, one would suppose, the last person who should need to net in co strange a manner. It was Mr Spenccly himself, the master of tho house.

With great presence of mind Sebastian checked hia movement to turn round, ond neither started nor stirred, but stood pen sively trilling with a fern loaf, as he cave himself time to reflect upon what had hap pened.

The vague floating rumours which he had heard as to tho " shakinoss" of Mr Spenee)cy's commercial position recurred to his mind, Probably there was somotliin<* in them. His own business nnd that of Mr Spencelcy lay in utterly different Hues; he hud not come across him in any commercial transactions; but he knew mon who had, and wore of opinion that Spcnccley was playing rather a dangerous game. During those troublous years some fortunes were made and many were lost—lost by men yho seemed as little likely to fail as Mr Spence lcy, of Castle Hill, Sebastian pictured the feelings of his mother, supposing she wero to.hear any such rumour—ltis mother, who was probably at that moment listening with all'ccting interest and politenes* to some circumlocutory history from the lips of Mrs Spencelcy, rt propos cither of Pied or of Helena. This was the day on which Helena was to come into, not her whole fortune— that was only to happen at her father's death or if she married—but of so much of it as would make her what many people would call a rich woman. Sebastian thought of this, and woudered if tho fortune were but

A (leoting ahow For man's illusion givon. His thoughts turned persistently to the girl with whom ho had so lately beon dancing. It was all in her honour, this ghastly, hollow mockery of an entertainment, with its sceptres and shadows flitting and stealing about. All for her 1 She was crowned with rosea, which were indeed tho fitting flower for so beautiful a rose as sho was herself. Those great pearls round her neck, and thoso massive bracelets on hor slender arm—his mind recalled each item of her dress, and, ns it were, every lino of her beauty ; he saw her standing, ns she had stood moro than once that evening, with a crowd round her of friends ami well-wishers, for she was popular, who congratulated her, and brought her flowers antlboquots—chiefly roses—the (lowers of love and triumph. And ever as he pictured her thus, tlio shadowy stealing figure seemed to lurch and crouch behind them, now uncovering its face a little, Turning hastily toward* tho ball-room, ho stood in tho doorway and looked. Yes, there wns Helena with Hugo ; he was glad she was with Hugo ; smiling and laughing with him, as they flow swiftly by, past the door, and her perfumed skirts brushed him and sent an odd littlo thrill through him. Tho ball progressed, and tlie evening grow drearier and drearier; ho heard tho excuses made by Mrs Spencelcy, and saw the care growing darker upon her brow ; he heard the regrets of the guests, and saw the in creasing uneasiness of tho looks cast about him by Fred, with a strange senso that ho alone could, if he chose, point the way upstairs, and say, "you will find the explanation of all if you go there aud ask."

As the tenth danco was about to begin, lie saw Fred make some excuse to the lady whom lie was leading to the ball-room; heard the words, " Very sorry—back in a minute." The youn" lady was put on a cushioned bench beside the wall, and Fred quickly departed, with a look of resolution on his face. Sebastian, with Helena on his arm, looked after Spenceley. He was going upstairs. Mallory throughout all the dance could not keep himself from wonder ing what was taking place in one of those upper rooms. What confession or what revelation ? Were things very bad ? Was the crisis a vory critical ono ? " You have become perfectly silent, Mr Mallory—not to say morose," remarked Helena. " And when I was dancing with Hugo, I saw yon looking in upon us with a sort of glare. What ia the matter." ' " Oh, nothing I Miss Spenceley, when did you last see your father ?" " This morning quite early; you know wc have breakfast at eight, because we arc business people. He gave mc these pearls that I have on, for a birthday present; ilijid though I would much rather have had no presents, they were so beautiful, and I atn so weak, that I was iti ecstasies with them. But papa said he had very important busi ness in Liverpool, and he might have to go to Manchester too. Still, he is ■very late," she added, as they began to dance again. The waltz was ovor. Everyohe was streaming into the supper room ; Helena, with Sebastian, remained in the ball-room, watching tlie people out, to sco that all went, when voices made themselves hoard ; young men were calling orit, "I say, Spenceley!" "Where's Fred?" "Who's to sit where?" "Fred, Mrs Spenceley .-tints to ask you something." "Where can Fred be?" exclaimed Helena, craning her neck to look round. "It is very strange in him to go away just now, when he ought to be seeing after things." , They wero standing beside a door of the ball-room; not that leading into the hall but one which opened into a passage lead ing to the billiard room, aad thence to the kitchen regions and offices. Almost aB Helena spoke the door was suddenly opened and a young woman appeared, with frightened fa-c, and widely distended eyes, who, seeing Helena, began, after the manner of her kind, towringher hands, and exclaim in much agitation: " Oh, Miss Spenceley I Where's Missis ? Oh, how dreadful I Oh I" " What is the matter ?" demanded Helena in a clear, decided voice. •'Oh-master, m' 1 He's " "Stop!" said Sebastian, suddenly and sternly, as he took the girl's arm, and gave it a littleshakc, to restore her to her senses. " Don't make such a noise I Miss Spence ley, wait here a moment. Come hero !" he added to the girl—one of the housemaids— as he drew her into the passage, and closed the door. "Now, what is the matter? Your master has returned. I saw him; Is he ill ?"

" Oh, sir 1" she said, with an hysterical sob, "he's dead. He's lying on the sofa in his room, and •"

"Dead!" repeated Sebastian, and he knew ma moment what it meant. "Where is Mr Prod 1 1. he with him ?"

"No, sir. I haven't seen him. I thought he was here."

Sebastian, with a growing fear that the whole thing was much blacker and moro dreadful than he had suspected, bade the young woman wait a moment, while he re turned to Helena. He had rapidly roviewed the circumstances, nnd found there was no thing lor it but to go to her. Pred was gone : ho did not like to let the idea "ab sconded " shape itself even in his mind; but all tho same, it was there like an ugly black spectre. To burst upon Mis Spence ley with such nows would have been in the highest degree inhuman and improper. Helena alone remained to tako this fearful burden upon her shoulders. Ho found Helena standing in tlie samo place in which he had loft her, and the last of the guests disappearing through tlie hall to the supper room. Helena was com posed and calm, but her cyo«, as they met nis, told him that she suspected a catas trophe.

"I want you to come with me," said he, drawing her arm through bis, and spooking iv a low, gentle voice, aud then they stood in the passago with the servant maicl. " Show me the room where > our master is, and do not speak," lie said to her; she was crying bitterly, in a cowed and helpless f ishion, but was less excited, less inclined to shriek out her dreadful news to everyone she met. Helena's face grew white, but she neither trembled nor spoke, as they followed the girl up the back stairs to a landing door, which she threw open, and then they found themselves standing on the gallery which formed the landing, and from which all the bedroom doors opened out.

"Which is your master's room?" asked Sebastian.

The maid pointed to a door, and cried more bitterly still, whilo Helena's face grew whiter "and more set every minute. " Have you seen Mr Fred at all this evening ?" "I saw him run upstairs, sir, and then I saw llilll go to his own room; but he's not there now, and I've never seen him since."

" Very well, you can go now ; but remem ber, you me to lie silent, or it will be worse for you. Do you understand?"

""Yes, sir. I won't say nothing, indeed," said the weeping young woman, going away with her muslin apron to her eyes. He turned to Helena. He felt he must not defer it any longer. There was pity and tenderness in his eyes and iv his voice as he said :

" Now, Helena, you are bravo, and you must be as brave as you can to-night."

"Tell me what it is," she said, "but don't keep mo waiting any longer."

"I must keep you waiting just a few mo moiits,"siiid ho. " I want you to sit down here, and not move, while 1 go to your father's room—will you ?"

" Yes," said Helena, seating herself with a protnptdoeility which contrasted strangely with her white face and distended eyes.

Sebastinu left her, walked iuto the room, and found it all as he expected. Mr Spenceley had committed suicide. He had taken prussic acid, and lay dead on the couch at tbe foot of his bed. Sebastian looking quickly round, saw a written paper lying on the floor at his feet. It was merely a scrap of paper, with the words:

" Deau Lizzie, —I am a ruined man and I can't bear it. I've never made you very happy, and the best I can do is to leavo you. I dou't know what will be left, but there is always your money of your own, and Nelly's that I——"

Hera it broke oft. It was not torn ;it wasas if the facts had rushed over the man, as he wrote these words, and he had failed to pen another syllable. There was no proof that Fred had absconded, or that ho Knew his father's fate. Sebastian knew he must put the matter in tho best light; but he felt himself an absolute certainty of con vibtion in tho matter.

He took tho paper and went out of tho room, locking tho door and putting the key in his pocket. Helena looked up as he camo to her, but said not a word,

"Helena," he began, "from what has happened tonight, I fear your father lias lound that he is ruined,"

"Is that all!" said Helena, drawing a long breath of relief. "No. That if true, is the least part of it. Remember what this mu«t have been to your father. Prosperity and success were his life," "Do you moan that it has killed papa?" asked Helena, with unnatural calm, fixing her eyes upon his face. "1 wish to spare your mother, or I would not tell you this. It has killed him—that is, he could not bear to live after such a fall. My poor child, your father lias destroyed himself."

"Ho has-oh!" came like a whisper from her white lips. Face, checks, brow, lips, were white as the dress she wore. She caught at a chair which stood near and supported herself upon it, looking at him with a stare of blank, utter horror, which ho felt to be almost unbearable. For weeks afterwards he was haunted by the vision of the whito figure in its cloudy dress :' the roses scattered about it, all like one whito marble figure, save the dusky hair and eyes which looked coal black by the contrast with her face.

" Think of your mother," said he, feeling that the spell of horror must be broken, and he gently put his arm round her, and placed her in the chair on which she had been leaning. She did not spoak for a moment but at last said :

"Oh, poor mamma I If she only need not know." "I fear she must know a great deal of it."

Then Helena put tho question which he dreaded.

"But where can Fred be all this time t"

"He is not in the house. He may have gone away to sco if the failure is complete— if anything remains to be saved, said Sebastian; "at any rate, he is hero." " Ah, yes !"said Helena, and no suspicion like Sebastian's conviction even for a moment troubled her mind. He gave her the paper he had found, " I have read it j I thought it best," said he. " And now I want you to go to your own room, and I will send Mrs Spenceley to you, and ask all these people to go, away, You will allow me?"

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