ightened or in any way molested Trevor.

The second event with which this girl's name is connected took place
about six years ago, and is of a still more extraordinary character.

At the beginning of the summer of 1882, Helen contracted a friendship
of a peculiarly intimate character with Rachel M., the daughter of a
prosperous farmer in the neighbourhood. This girl, who was a year
younger than Helen, was considered by most people to be the prettier of
the two, though Helen's features had to a great extent softened as she
became older. The two girls, who were together on every available
opportunity, presented a singular contrast, the one with her clear,
olive skin and almost Italian appearance, and the other of the
proverbial red and white of our rural districts. It must be stated
that the payments made to Mr. R. for the maintenance of Helen were
known in the village for their excessive liberality, and the impression
was general that she would one day inherit a large sum of money from
her relative. The parents of Rachel were therefore not averse from
their daughter's friendship with the girl, and even encouraged the
intimacy, though they now bitterly regret having done so. Helen still
retained her extraordinary fondness for the forest, and on several
occasions Rachel accompanied her, the two friends setting out early in
the morning, and remaining in the wood until dusk. Once or twice after
these excursions Mrs. M. thought her daughter's manner rather peculiar;
she seemed languid and dreamy, and as it has been expressed, "different
from herself," but these peculiarities seem to have been thought too
trifling for remark. One evening, however, after Rachel had come home,
her mother heard a noise which sounded like suppressed weeping in the
girl's room, and on going in found her lying, half undressed, upon the
bed, evidently in the greatest distress. As soon as she saw her
mother, she exclaimed, "Ah, mother, mother, why did you let me go to
the forest with Helen?" Mrs. M. was astonished at so strange a
question, and proceeded to make inquiries. Rachel told her a wild
story. She said--

Clarke closed the book with a snap, and turned his chair towards the
fire. When his friend sat one evening in that very chair, and told his
story, Clarke had interrupted him at a point a little subsequent to
this, had cut short his words in a paroxysm of horror. "My God!" he
had exclaimed, "think, think what you are saying. It i