Thornleigh, who pronounced him to be a gentlemanly fellow, who never took liberties, or degraded his cloth and himself by acts of licentiousness.

Meanwhile Helen, though armed by the 'strong breast-plate of a heart untainted,' was not altogether invulnerable, and there came a time when an arrow struck her in the joints of her armour, piercing her keenly.

About six months previous to the time, when a change of prospects at home rendered it inexpedient for Colonel Thornleigh to remain any longer in India, the event occurred which, while it revealed to Helen the full view of her position, was not without its influence on her future life.

Instances of homicidal mania caused by excessive drinking are unfortunately of no unfrequent occurrence amongst soldiers; one cause of them possibly being, that the men often retain in the bewilderment of intoxication a confused sense of the injuries, real or imaginary, which when sober they had for

given and almost forgotten. Of the truth of this remark, a soldier belonging to Colonel Thornleigh's regiment afforded a fearful example, for after a recent punishment, and when maddened by arrack and heat, he one evening, without any apparent provocation, shot a serjeant belonging to the same corps, and wounded him mortally. On hearing of the occurrence, and being aware that the tragedy was deepened by the fact that the wounded man had a wife and family dependent on his exertions, Helen hastened to the scene, though dreading the melancholy sight of the bereaved woman's despair and of the poor orphans' tears. And sad, indeed, was the spectacle that presented itself to her viewso sad, that even her strong nerves well nigh failed her as she looked upon it.

The uncontrolled and angry grief of the wife found vent in loud hysterical screams; mingled with such fierce imprecations on the assassin, that those who stood around felt that the soldier would have a sharp struggle, for

his life, should he venture within the grasp of those wildly tossing arms. The sight thrilled its spectators with horror, for the 'decency of woe' was wholly wanting, though prone upon the bed lay the wounded serjeant in his death agony.

A few minutes before he breathed his last, the poor man signed for his children. to be brought to him, and one by one they were led within his reach; the youngest, a little thing of some few months old, was held by Helen to the lips which were already whitened by approaching dissolution. For a moment it lay with its soft cheek pressed to that of the father who had loved it so well; and then, refusing to come away, its tiny fingers clutched at something vigorously. Helen loosed its hold, shocked and shuddering, for the accustomed plaything that the infant's hands had grasped was no other than the grizzled hair that fell over the lip of its dead father, the father who would never

play with his little child again!

It was while busied in soothing the scream ing infant that Helen became aware of the presence of a lady, whose soft, lovable face was turned towards her, and who asked in the sweetest of low-toned voices if she could be of any use. To Helen, stealing as they did into the midst of that discordant din, the words sounded like music spoken—a blessed sound breaking in upon a dream of horror and of agony. Yes; she could, indeed, be of use that gentle woman, of use in soothing the children's sorrow and in restoring order in that wretched room; but there were limits to their power of doing good, for the task of dealing with the widow's grief, or of mitigating the violence of her fury, proved to be wholly beyond them; and great was their relief when the entrance of the surgeon upon the miserable scene, gave promise of some amelioration in the woman's condition.

'Good God,' he exclaimed, Mrs. Vaughan! -Miss Owen! this is no place for you. Dead, is he, poor fellow? I knew it, for there was

not a shadow of hope from the first. But, ladies, I must advise you to withdraw, for this woman is not in a state in which you can render her any service. Come, be quiet at once and cease that howling,' he added, turning to the woman and speaking angrily and firmly.

'Oh! Doctor,' interposed Helen, 'speak indeed, it is not well to

gently to her, pray;

be harsh with her.

Think only of her great affliction, she cannot restrain herself, for she is crazed with grief.'

'Crazed with grief, madam! not she; we know the symptoms better; why the woman is dead drunk, and smells of rum enough to knock you down. And here's the bottle,' he continued with a sort of melancholy triumph, as he drew the evidence of his sagacity from under the woman's cot. Here's the bottlehere's the curse, '-and he threw the noxious thing across the room with all the vigour of an angry man. It fell near the bed, and the sharp sound it made thrilled through the