which brief space he fixed his eyes upon her with a look of the most
inexpressible tenderness and sorrow.

"Oh!" she repeated, "can you tell me where is William Reilly?"

"Alas! Helen," said he, "I am William Reilly."

"You!" she exclaimed. "Oh, no, the wide, wide Atlantic is between him and
me."

"It was between us, Helen, but it is not now; I am here in life before
you--your own William Reilly, that William Reilly whom you loved so
well, but so fatally. I am he: do you not know me?"

"You are not William Reilly," she replied; "if you were, you would have
a token."

"Do you forget that?" he replied, placing in her hand the emerald ring
she had given him at the trial. She started on looking at it, and a
feeble flash was observed to proceed from her eyes.

"This might come to you," she said, "by Reilly's death; yes, this might
come to you in that way; but there is another token which is known to
none but himself and me."

"Whisper," said he, and as he spoke he applied his mouth to her ear, and
breathed the token into it.

[Illustration: PAGE 182--It is he! it is he!]

She stood back, her eyes flashed, her beautiful bosom heaved; she
advanced, looked once more, and exclaimed, with a scream, "It is he!
it is he!" and the next moment she was insensible in his arms. Long but
precious was that insensibility, and precious were the tears which his
eyes rained down upon that pale but lovel countenance. She was soon
placed upon a settee, but Reilly knelt beside her, and held one of her
hands in his. After a long trance she opened her eyes and again started.
Reilly pressed her hand and whispered in her ear, "Helen, I am with you
at last."

She smiled on him and said, "Help me to sit up, until I look about me,
that I may be certain this is not a dream."

She then looked about her, and as the ladies of the family spoke
tenderly to her, and caressed her, she fixed her eyes once more upon her
lover, and said, "It is not a dream then; this is a reality; but, alas!
Reilly, I tremble to think lest they should take you from me again."

"You need entertain no such apprehension, my dear Helen," said the lady
of the mansion. "I have often heard your father say that he would give
twenty thousand pounds to have you well, and Reilly's wife. In fact,
you have nothing to fear in that, or any other quarter. But there's his
knock; he and my husband have returned, and I must break this
blessed news to him by degrees, lest it might be