now? He had no time. He could scarcely speak his wishes, save to one who felt for him as only a woman can feel.'

'But he died forgiving me, and believing that I had not wronged him?' asked Gertrude, in a hushed voice.

'Indeed he did, for you and his children occupied his latest thoughts; and you were all with him in spirit when he breathed his last.'

"Thank God,' said Lady Thornleigh, fervently; and for a while there was silence in the room, while the women shed healing tears to the memory of the loved and lost.

'One word,' said Gertrude, as, after a time she removed her handkerchief from her eyes. 'One word before we part. The time may come-nay, it must come, when I shall be enabled to justify myself in the world's opinion. But that time may be yet far distant, and I must wait God's time in patience.'

But is there nothing in my power to

effect? Is there no aid that I, by means of the riches that are yours, can render you ? Nothing. I am bound by my fears, and by a promise.'

6

A promise rashly given, perchance, and unlawfully exacted; such a promise may not be binding.'

That is a question which only my own conscience can decide,' said Lady Thornleigh. 'In the meantime'

'In the meantime,' exclaimed her companion, with some of her characteristic impatience, 'give me, I entreat, some word, some name, connected, however remotely, with this cruel mystery, and leave the rest to me.'

'I cannot-I dare not,' said Gertrude, turning even paler than before.

Take courage,' urged Helen, 'one name is all I ask for. Stay, do not speak, but write it here,' and she placed her own small memorandum book in Gertrude's hand.

For a moment the latter hesitated, and then taking the pencil, traced with trembling fingers two words upon the page. Helen did not read them then, but closing the book, laid it on the table beside her.

'It is well,' she said. And I thank you for the effort you have made. Lady Thornleigh! we may never meet again, but should the time arrive when, with your boy and girl beside you, you are leading a life of happiness at dear old Thornleigh Abbey, promise me that for the sake of one who will be poor and lonely then, you will think with mercy on the fallen; and will believe that to those who have loved much, much may, perhaps, be forgiven.'

'I promise,' said Gertrude, and in return I ask you to be my friend.'

'A friend at heart, and for life, believe me. But there are circumstances under which even those who are bound by the closest ties of friendship would do wisely to bid each other a lasting "farewell." And ours is a

case where (of all others) such a course would be most advisable.'

'Do not say so,' said Gertrude, mournfully. 'I cannot forget your generous kindness.'

'But you would remember other things which it is not in the nature of our sex to forget. Besides, you are of the world, Lady Thornleigh; and it becomes Philip's widow, and the mother of Philip's children, to stand as high as may be above the world's sneers, and the world's hard word. No, in this life. we shall see each other no more. I depart to work for Philip and his children, while you remain to wait and hope.'

She looked so grandly beautiful as she spoke, that Gertrude shrank abashed into her humble self. What was she, that Philip should have deserted that peerless creature to make one so every way inferior to her his bride? What, indeed, but that men—

'However they do praise themselves,

Have fancies far more giddy and infirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,
Than women's are.'

Lady Thornleigh found it impossible to change the purpose of the of the high-hearted woman, who would only accept from her her hand at parting, and the fervent 'God bless you,' that came warm from the heart of Philip's widow.

1

'May God be with you and with your children,' said Helen, as her hand (on which was a mourning ring for Thornleigh) rested for a moment in that of his long parted-from wife. 6 May we meet again in a world where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, and where tears will be wiped from all faces. Wait and hope, Lady Thornleigh, and think kindly of me if you can.'

And so they parted. Alice loved her sister again, when she found that Gertrude did justice to the penitent woman, whose wrongs had been so much greater than her own. She did not attempt to analyze the causes which had wrought the change in her sister's feelings and opinions; it was enough for her that Lady Thornleigh was no longer harsh