see the writing, all in a moment. Watch his face and
tell me."

Helen colored up and said: "No; I can't do that. Why, it would be turning
God's temple into a trap! Besides--"

"The real reason first, if you please," said this horribly shrewd old
woman.

"Well, Mr. Arthur Wardlaw is the gentleman I am going to marry."

"Good Heavens!" cried Mrs. Undercliff, taken utterly aback by this most
unexpected turn. "Why, you never told me that!"

"No," said Helen, blushing. "I did not think it necessary to go into
that. Well, of course, it is not in human nature that Mr. Wardlaw should
be zealous in my good work, or put himself forward; but he has never
refused to lend me any help that was in his power; and it is repugnant to
my nature to suspect him of a harm, and to my feelings to lay a trap for
him."

"Quite right," said Mrs. Undercliff; "of course I had no idea you were
going to marry Mr. Wardlaw. I made sure Mr. Penfold was the man."

Helen blushed higher still, but made no reply.

Mrs. Undercliff turned the conversation directly. "My son has given many
hours to Mr. Hand's two letters, and he told me to tell you he is
beginning to doubt whether Mr. Hand is a real person, with a real
handwriting, at all.

"Oh, Mrs. Undercliff! Why, he wrote me two letters! However, I will ask
Mr. Penfold whether Mr. Hand exists or not. When shall I have the
pleasure of seeing you again?"

"Whenever you like, my dear young lady; but not upon this business of
Penfold and Wardlaw. I have done with it forever; and my advice to you,
miss, is not to stir the mud any more." And with these mysterious words
the old lady retired, leaving Helen deeply discouraged at her desertion.

However, she noted down the conversation in her diary, and made this
comment: People find no pleasure in proving an accused person innocent;
the charm is to detect guilt. This day a good, kind friend abandons me
because I will not turn aside from my charitable mission to suspect
another person as wrongfully as he I love has been suspected.

_Mem.:_ To see, or make inquiries about Mr. Hand.

General Rolleston had taken a furnished house in Hanover Square. He now
moved into it, and Helen was compelled to busy herself in household
arrangements.

She made the house charming; but unfortunately stood in a draught while
heated, and caught a chill, which a year ago would very likely have gone
to her lungs and killed her, but now settled on her limbs in violent
neu