complain or to boast of to his companions—nothing to laugh at with his lady love. When the company were retiring to their chambers, I gently opened the door, and just as he passed, I beckoned him in.
"What's to do with you, Helen?" said he. "Why couldn't you come to make tea for us? and what the deuce are you here for, in the dark? What ails you, young woman—you look like a ghost?" he continued, surveying me by the light of his candle.
"No matter," I answered—"to you—you have no longer any regard for me, it appears; and I have no longer any for you."
"Hal-low! what the devil is this?" he muttered.
"I would leave you to-morrow," continued I, "and never again come under this roof, but for my child"—I paused a moment to steady my voice.
"What in the devil's name is this, Helen?" cried he. "What can you be driving at?"
