; and, whilst his memory would
be left free from blame towards his daughter's orphaned child, his money
might go away from her by her own fault, and enrich the institutions of
his country at the expense of the grand-daughter, whom he had always
disliked.

Be that as it may, it was sufficient to place Helen in a very awkward and
uncomfortable position. She had not only to claim Maurice's promised
troth to her, but she had also to urge on him an almost immediate
marriage; the task was a thankless and most unpleasant one.

Besides that, there was the existence of a certain little French vicomte
which caused Mrs. Romer not a little anxiety. Now, if ever, was the time
when she had reason to dread his re-appearance with those fatal letters
with which he had once threatened to spoil her life should she ever
attempt to marry again.

But her grandfather had died and had left her his money, and her
engagement and approaching marriage to another man was no secret, yet
still Monsieur Le Vicomte D'Arblet made no sign, and gave forth no token
of his promised vengeance.

Helen dared not flatter herself that he was dead, but she did hope,
and hoped rightly, that he was not in England, and had not heard of
the change in her fortunes. She had been afraid to make any inquiries
concerning him; such a step might only excite suspicion, and defeat her
own object of remaining hidden from him. If only she could be safely
married before he heard of her again--all, she thought, might yet be well
with her. Of what use, then, would be his vengeance? for she did not
think it likely he could be so cruel as to wreak an idle and profitless
revenge upon her after she herself and her fortune were beyond his power.

Perhaps, had she known that her enemy had been on a distant journey to
Constantinople, from which he was now returning, and that every hour she
lived brought him nearer and nearer to her, she would have been less easy
in her mind concerning him. As it was, she consoled herself by thinking
in how short a time her marriage would put her out of his power, and
hoped, for the rest, that things would all turn out right for her.
Nevertheless, strive how she would, she could not quite put away the
dread of it out of her mind--it was an anxiety.

And then there was Maurice himself. She had known, of course, for long,
how slight was her hold upon her lover's heart, but never had he appeared
so cold, so unloving, so full of apathetic indifference t