One day when I was there, and he was hunting
up some volume for me, my eye was attracted
to a drawer which was partly open. I looked
into it. It was full of beautiful gems, delicate
enamels, and mosaics, that he had
brought from Italy; and, in the furthest
corner, glittering in the darkness, lay some
quaintly carved pistols.

"Shut that drawer, Helena!" said Sir
Edward, fiercely, turning round suddenly,
and seeing where I stood.

I obeyed, and laughingly asked if it was a
second Blue Beard's cupboard. But I got no
answer, and when I looked round, Sir Edward
was fixedly watching me, all colour gone from
his cheeks—all tenderness from his eyes.

Did you again stand between and part us,
Lawrence?

Edward had promised to walk with me
on the sands, on the evening of the day
but one before that fixed for my wedding. I
was punctual to my appointment. The stable
clock at the Hall rung out eight as I reached
the bridge which, crossing the river, leads
into the park, and which was our usual
trysting-place; but no Edward was there.
I waited till nine o'clock, and then, frightened
at his not coming, ran to the Hall with beating
heart and dark misgivings.

Sir Edward was in the library, but very busy,
the servant said, in answer to my inquiry.
He could not be too busy to see me, I
thought, so I heeded not what else the man
said, but went quickly to the library.

"Colonel Peterson is dead! " said Sir
Edward eagerly when I burst into the room,
"I am sorry I have broken my appointment,
but these gentlemen,"and he bowed to two
whom I recognised as leading people in our
little town, "have already honoured me with
a request that I shall supply his place. You
had better go home now."

I felt sad as I walked home. It was
wrong, however, I knew, to mind that Sir
Edward seemed engrossed in this sudden
prospect of entering the political field, where
he longed to distinguish himself; and I
made many resolutions not to think of my
own claims, or to mind how I, for a while,
might be discarded.

Our marriage was put off. Sir Edward
was fully occupied with the chances of
his election. Paul went up to London,
and I begged him not to hasten home; for I
determined to conquer the old feeling of
loneliness which was creeping over me, and not
to own its power by requiring him as a
companion. Two or three days after he had left
me, I was sitting in the evening reading in
the drawing-room. The morning of that day
had been sunny and bright; but, in the evening,
a heavy, grey mist had closed round the dale,
and sad feelings of depression had come over
me. Edward had been only once to see me
in my solitude; and, in that short visit, he had
seemed abstracted and half-longing to be
gone. I knew that, fair as his chance was,
there was yet need for exertion, as two other
candidates had come forward. I knew that he
was much occupied; still it was difficult to
keep my resolution of not minding how much
he might seem to neglect me. The wind and
rain sounded so dreary, and my heart was so
heavy, that at length I buried my face in my
hands and sobbed.

CHAPTER THE SIXTH.

A RING at the door startled me. I wiped
away my tears. It must be Edward. How
hasty and unjust I had been! I rose to meet
him, but instead of Edward I saw Paul.
"Helena," he said, "before I had even
time to exclaim at his sudden appearance, or
almost to notice his wet, disordered dress, "I
have heard some dreadful news in London,
and I have hastened straight home to tell
you it—to warn and save you."

"Oh! tell me quickly, Paul," I gasped;
"what is it? Do not stop to break it
to me, but tell me. Anything is better than
suspense."

"Bear it bravely then, Helena," he said;
but he himself was pale and trembling, and
as he continued, his voice sunk to a low,
hoarse whisper,—"Sir Edward Stamford is
Lawrence's murderer."

I uttered a fierce contradiction; and I felt,
defiantly indignant.

"Alas, Helena!" said Paul, "the
person who told me—a Signer Corti—
stood beside Lawrence as his second in the
duel; but had promised him, as he lay dying,,
never to reveal by whose hand he fell; for
the challenge had been tauntingly given, and
the offence pitilessly avenged. The quarrel
arose about some girl they both admired—
a Miss Graham—and Lawrence knew, I
suppose, what shame would clog his
adversary's steps were his crime known."

"Yes, Lawrence's generosity would be true
till death," I broke in, "but, oh! that man
must be deceiving us; it cannot be Sir
Edward who has done this cruel deed."

"He showed me the letter, Helena, in
which Lawrence asked him to be his second,
and in which Sir Edward's name was
mentioned. Nay, he had even the pistols with
him in London, which had been Sir Edward's,
and bore his crest and initials, for they had
changed weapons before fighting. Lawrence's
must be in Sir Edward's possession, no doubt;
they were that clumsy old pair that my
father had mended up for him.

"I have seen them," I said. Alas! I could
no longer doubt Paul's statement; for, with
fearful distinctness, the scene in the
Hall-library flashed back upon my mind—the open
drawer, the bright pistols, Sir Edward's face,
rigid arid white with alarm—and I wondered
how even my trustful love could have blinded
me to the truth for so long.

"Corti would never have broken his
promise, Helena, if it had not been necessary to
do so, to save you from marrying your