, I've been a wicked, wicked girl,
and never can be happy any more."

Angry, perplexed, and conscience-stricken, for what now seemed blind
and unwise submission to the major, Helen devoted herself to calming
Amy, and when at last the poor, broken-hearted little soul fell asleep
in her arms, she pondered half the night upon the still unsolved
enigma of the Baron Sigismund.

VIII

MORE MYSTERY

"Uncle, can I speak to you a moment?" said Helen, very gravely, as
they left the breakfast-room next morning.

"Not now, my dear, I'm busy," was the hasty reply, as the major
shawled Mrs. Cumberland for an early promenade.

Helen knit her brows irefully, for this answer had been given her half
a dozen times lately when she asked for an interview. It was evident
he wished to avoid all lectures, remonstrances, and explanations; and
it was also evident that he was in love with the widow.

"Lovers are worse than lunatics to manage, so it is vain to try to get
any help from him," sighed Helen, adding, as her uncle was gallantly
leading his stout divinity away into the garden: "Amy has a bad
headache, and I shall stay to take care of her, so we can't join
your party to Chillon, sir. We have been there once, so you needn't
postpone it for us."

"Very well, my dear," and the major walked away, looking much
relieved.

As Helen was about to leave the _salon_ Casimer appeared. A single
glance at her face assured him that she knew all, and instantly
assuming a confiding, persuasive air that was irresistible, he said,
meekly,--

"Mademoiselle, I do not deserve a word from you, but it desolates me
to know that I have grieved the little angel who is too dear to me.
For her sake, pardon that I spoke my heart in spite of prudence, and
permit me to send her this."

Helen glanced from the flowers he held to his beseeching face, and her
own softened. He looked so penitent and anxious, she had not the heart
to reproach him.

"I will forgive you and carry your gift to Amy on one condition," she
said, gravely.

"Ah, you are kind! Name, then, the condition. I implore you, and I
will agree."

"Tell me, then, on your honor as a gentleman, are you not Baron
Palsdorf?"

"On my honor as a gentleman, I swear to you I am not."

"Are you, in truth, what you profess to be?"

"I am, in truth, Amy's lover, your devoted servant, and a most unhappy
man, with but a little while to live. Believe this and pity me,
dearest Mademoiselle Helene