d out and her face hidden. There had been but this
wanting to her misery, and now it was added: Helen loved him.

For she was not deceived by the flippant phrases which had surrounded the
avowal: Helen would talk flippantly on her death-bed. None the less was
she in earnest when she spoke those few words. In such matters a woman
can read a woman: there is a tone of voice which can not be
counterfeited. It tells all.

CHAPTER XVIII.

"What is this that thou hast been fretting and fuming and lamenting
and self-tormenting on account of? Say it in a word: is it not
because thou art not _happy_? Foolish soul! what act of Legislature
was there that _thou_ shouldst be happy? There is in Man a higher
than Happiness; he can do without Happiness, and instead thereof
find Blessedness. This is the everlasting Yea, wherein all
contradiction is solved."--CARLYLE.

After an hour of mute suffering, Anne sought the blessed oblivion of
sleep. She had conquered herself; she was exhausted. She would try to
gain strength for the effort of the coming day. But nothing avails
against that fever, strong as life and sad as death, which we call Love,
and which, in spite of the crowd of shallower feelings that masquerade
under and mock its name, still remains the master-power of our human
existence. Anne had no sooner laid her head upon the pillow than there
rose within her, and ten times stronger than before, her love and her
jealousy. She would stay and contest the matter with Helen. Had he not
said, had he not looked--And then she caught herself back in an agony of
self-reproach. For it is always hard for the young to learn the lesson
of human weakness. It is strange and humiliating to them to discover
that there are powers within them stronger than their own wills. The old
know this so well that they excuse each other silently; but, loath to
shake the ignorant faith of innocence, they leave the young to find it
out for themselves. The whole night with Anne was but a repetition of
efforts and lapses, followed toward morning, however, by a struggling
return to self-control. For years of faithfulness even as a child are
not thrown away, but yield, thank Heaven! a strength at last in times of
trial; else might we all go drown ourselves. At dawn, with tear-stained
cheeks, she fell asleep, waking with a start when Bessmer knocked and
inquired if she was ill. Miss Vanhorn had gone down to breakfast.

"P