anby, and that he
should be called upon to answer for it, perhaps by his life.

He was no coward, but this very life had become sweeter to him than ever
before, during the last few days.

He had gained the love of the woman who was to him a queen amongst all
women, and now in vindicating her from the tongue of the slanderer, he
might perhaps be on the eve of leaving her for ever.

He had often looked death in the face when he had been lying ill at the
Grange, and sometimes for utter weariness it had seemed no fearful thing
to die. Since his mother had come under the influence of Lady
Huntingdon's ministers, Leslie had heard a great deal of "the King of
Terrors," as Death was termed in their phraseology, and he had often
thought that it had not worn that guise to him in times of sore
sickness--rather, as a friend's arm outstretched to lull his pain and
give him peace. But now--now that the strength of his young manhood was
renewed--now, when life was as a pleasant song in the possession of
Griselda's love, in dreams of a useful happy life, with her to
sympathize in all his hopes and aims--parting from life, and all that
life holds dear, was very different.

As he sat by the fire, or left his chair and paced the room, he seemed
to hear words spoken in the very inner recesses of his soul.

"_I_ say unto you, love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, and
pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you."

"Yes," he argued, "yes; but it is not for myself, it is for her! That
man's disappointment and disgust at her rejection of his suit will goad
him to say all evil of her--my pure, beautiful Griselda! And yet----"

Then he went hopelessly over the past week. That child who had come to
the Herschels' doorstep; the pity which she had called to life; that
expedition for the relief of the suffering man--if--if only that had
never been, all this had been averted. All for a stranger, a worthless
stranger, who was probably neither deserving of pity or help.

If he had known how close between Griselda and this man the tie was, how
far the poor dying actor was from being a stranger to her, would his
feelings have been different? would the truth have changed the aspect of
things for him--made the situation more or less painful? I cannot tell.

The gray January dawn, creeping in through the holes in the shutters,
and penetrating the room where the fire had burned out, and the candles
died in their sockets, fou