ied, raising her head, and looking, with a strong
effort into his eyes.

Thus was Helen driven, with scourges, by her task-master, the great
tempter of souls, into slough after slough, from which, there was but
one escape, and that lay through a rugged way, called REPENTANCE. But
repentance, to her vision, was like a shoreless ocean, or a fierce
deity to whose exacting nature she must sacrifice all that she held
dear on earth, or perish. But her husband's love and esteem--her
ill-gotten riches--her position--her luxuries! Could she live without
them? _If she could repent without making restitution_, she would.
But she well knew that such repentance would be fruitless. And thus,
while, to the world, she moved calmly in her proud beauty, and was
envied by the miserable, for the apparent happiness and splendor of her
lot, a fierce beast was tugging at her heart-strings, more savage than
that which tore the vitals of the boy of Lacedaemon. It was remorse.

"Helen!" said Walter Jerrold, calmly, "have you any grief or mystery
hidden from me, my wife? I am like a helpless child, now in your
hands; you may deceive me, and triumph in your concealment--but do
not--do not, Helen, for God's sake, do it. Open your whole heart to
me. I love you well enough to lift the burden, if there be one, from
it, to my strong shoulders; and if--if--if--you have ever erred, let me
hear it from no lips but your own."

Helen would have cast herself at his feet and told him all, but she
feared he would spurn her--she longed to deserve the love of his manly
and honest heart, but too weak, too much a coward, she shrunk from the
agony and peril of a confession of her guilt. And Jerrold! was he not
mad to expect to find a true and loving spouse in one who had cast off
her allegiance to God?

"You are mistaken, Walter. Really, you have made quite a scene! I
fear that you are romantic! For, really except when my nervous moods
come over me, I am not aware that there is any thing unusual in my
conduct. I am excessively nervous and excitable. I was dancing all
night. I went with your mother to Mrs. Woodland's ball, which was a
most brilliant affair. It was after two o'clock when I came home. You
may be sure I was tired. Then I concluded to give you a little
surprise by waiting up for you; and, as I looked very haggard, took out
that precious cosmetic to tint my cheeks--all, dear Walter, to welcome
you; but I was too much fagged, and we