" replied she; "but there are powers higher than
the resolves of mortals. I have struggled with myself till the blood was
sent back in my veins, and frightened nature saved the powerless victim
of grief by the mantle of unconsciousness. What, Adam, shall I do? I
feel I am unequal to the task of speaking a daughter's rebellion and a
traitor's resolution."

"When everything is explained, Helen," replied the other, "the treachery
disappears, and a father and mother's love will not die under the
passing cloud of a little anger. Think of our bliss, love! Did hope
never bring courage to your tongue, Helen? Ah, what would that bright
goddess make Adam Fleming dare!"

"And what," said she, "would Helen Bell not dare for the love she bears
to her Adam, if that sacred feeling of a daughter's duty were overcome?
But it must be. I shall fall upon my mother's neck, and weep out with
burning tears of repentance a daughter's contrition. I will appeal to
the heart of a mother and a woman. I will conjure up her own first love,
move again the spring of her earliest affection, and feign to her my
father lost, and her heart wrecked. Ay, Adam, hope--the hope of the
possession of you--will accomplish all this. Helen has said it, and the
issue will prove."

This burst of generous resolution produced a flood of tears. She crept
closer to him, and the throbs of her heart were heard in the silence
which reigned among the graves. A rustling sound among the trees roused
her; she lifted her head, and fixed her eyes on a part of the wood on
the other side of the Kirtle. For a moment she watched some movements
not noticed by her lover. They rose, and Adam stood aside to get a
better view of the interruption. In an instant she clung to his bosom; a
loud shot reverberated through the wood; Helen fell dead--the ball
destined for Kirkpatrick having been received by the devoted maiden, who
saw the hand uplifted that was to do the deed of blood. Neither scream
nor audible sigh came from her; one spring when the ball entered the
heart--and death!

Kirkpatrick saw at once death and the cause of it, and in an instant he
gave pursuit. Springing with a bound over the Kirtle, he seized Blacket
House in the act of flight. The murderer turned, sword in hand, and a
battle was fought in the wood, such as never was witnessed in the heat
of the contest of armies. Had his opponent had twenty lives, the fury of
Kirkpatrick would have been unsatiated by them all. His