ssment of words. She looked up quickly, relieved, yet troubled.

"He has told you, then?"

"Everything, mademoiselle. Pardon me if this afflicts you; I am his
only friend here, and the poor lad sorely needed comfort."

"He did. I am not annoyed; I am glad, for I know you will sustain him.
Now I may speak freely, and be equally frank. Please tell me if he is
indeed fatally ill?"

"It was thought so some months ago; now I hope. Happiness cures many
ills, and since he has loved, he has improved. I always thought care
would save him; he is worth it."

Hoffman paused, as if fearful of venturing too far; but Helen seemed
to confide freely in him, and said, softly,--

"Ah, if it were only wise to let him be happy. It is so bitter to deny
love."

"God knows it is!"

The exclamation broke from Hoffman as if an irrepressible impulse
wrung it from him.

Helen started, and for a moment neither spoke. She collected herself
soonest, and without turning, said, quietly,--

"I have been troubled by a strong impression that Casimer is not what
he seems. Till he denied it on his honor I believed him to be Baron
Palsdorf. Did he speak the truth when he said he was not?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Then, Casimer Teblinski is his real name?"

No answer.

She turned sharply, and added,--

"For my cousin's sake, I must know the truth. Several curious
coincidences make me strongly suspect that he is passing under an
assumed name."

Not a word said Hoffman, but looked on the ground, as motionless and
expressionless as a statue.

Helen lost patience, and in order to show how much she had discovered,
rapidly told the story of the gloves, ring, handkerchief, prayer-book
and collar, omitting all hint of the girlish romance they had woven
about these things.

As she ended, Hoffman looked up with a curious expression, in which
confusion, amusement, admiration and annoyance seemed to contend.

"Mademoiselle," he said, gravely, "I am about to prove to you that
I feel honored by the confidence you place in me. I cannot break my
word, but I will confess to you that Casimer does _not_ bear his own
name."

"I knew it!" said Helen, with a flash of triumph in her eyes. "He _is_
the baron, and no Pole. You Germans love masquerades and jokes. This
is one, but I must spoil it before it is played out."

"Pardon; mademoiselle is keen, but in this she is mistaken. Casimer is
_not_ the baron; he did fight for Poland, and his name is known an