own cause.

It was a fine summer afternoon; the long French casements, looking on the
garden of the Square, were open, and the balmy air came in and wooed the
beautiful girl's cheek, and just stirred her hair at times.

Arthur Wardlaw came softly in, and gazed at her as she lay; her
loveliness filled his heart and soul; he came and knelt by her sofa, and
took her hand, and kissed it, and his own eyes glistened with tenderness.

He had one thing in his favor. He loved her.

Her knowledge of this had more than once befriended him, and made her
refuse to suspect him of any great ill; it befriended him now. She turned
a look of angelic pity on him.

"Poor Arthur," she said. "You and I are both unhappy."

"But we shall be happy, ere long, I hope," said Arthur.

Helen shook her head.

Then he patted her, and coaxed her, and said he would be her servant, as
well as a husband, and no wish of her heart should go ungratified.

"None?" said she, fixing her eyes on him.

"Not one," said he; "upon my honor." Then he was so soft and persuasive,
and alluded so delicately to her plighted faith, that she felt like a
poor bird caught in a silken net.

"Sir Edward is very good," said he; "he feels for me."

At that moment, a note was sent up.

"Mr. Wardlaw is here, and has asked me when the marriage is to be. I
can't tell him; I look like a fool."

Helen sighed deeply and had begun to gather those tears that weaken a
woman. She glanced despairingly to and fro, and saw no escape. Then,
Heaven knows why or wherefore--probably with no clear design at all but a
woman's weak desire to cause a momentary diversion, to put off the
inevitable for five minutes--she said to Arthur: "Please give me that
prayer-book. Thank you. It is right you should know this." And she put
Cooper's deposition, and Welch's, into his hands.

He devoured them, and started up in great indignation. "It is an
abominable slander," said he. "We have lost ten thousand pounds by the
wreck of that ship, and Wylie's life was saved by a miracle as well as
your own. It is a foul slander. I hurl it from me."

And he made his words good by whirling the prayer-book out of window.

Helen uttered a scream. "My mother's prayer-book!" she cried.

"Oh! I beg pardon," said he.

"As well you may," said she. "Run and send George after it."

"No, I'll go myself," said he. "Pray forgive me. You don't know what a
terrible slander they have desecrated your prayerbook with