fitting ending to Guy's long friendship in their family.

Three years slipped by; years in which Guy bent every energy to the study of architecture, which he had chosen as his profession. He had decided talent, and by continued assiduity was making a name for himself among his colleagues.

Little change had taken place in Hetherford except such as the flight of time must necessarily bring. Helen was now quite a woman, with a pretty air of gravity which the new cares had lent to her.

When finally, one crisp October day, Guy walked in upon them, his face bronzed by the recent ocean trip, his slender figure grown broad and strong, his blue eyes beaming with happiness, he was welcomed with the greatest warmth of affection, and as they sat about the crackling flames in the manor hall his long absence seemed almost a dream.

It was during the following winter that Helen had her first misgivings as to her real feeling for Guy. Indeed, sometimes, her engagement oppressed her strangely, and she was assailed by an overwhelming longing to be free.

Women are indeed incomprehensible, and when the largess of their love is not given, it is rare, save through some sharp lesson, that they appreciate to the full the men whose hearts they possess. In this Helen was, perhaps, in nowise different from the rest of her sex. Be this as it may, Guy's unchanging love and devotion sometimes wearied her, and failed to call forth an answering love in her own heart. Yet the months glided by, and she had not the courage to tell her lover the truth. She was not always successful in hiding it from him, however, and once or twice a faint suspicion of her indifference came to him.

The summer came and went, and almost a year had drifted by since his return. Guy finally broached the subject of marriage.

At his first words Helen was filled with dismay, and as she listened with down-bent head and averted eyes, Guy was suddenly conscious of a great lack in her love for him, and a sense of foreboding swept over him. To his long and pleading request that a time might be set for their marriage, Helen put forth the children's claim upon her; and when he gently urged her to reconsider her determination, she answered him so sharply and curtly that he yielded, convinced that it would be unwise to press the matter any further.

Helen's lips had almost formed the words "Guy, I do not love you as I should," but her lover's face, pale with grief at her all too evident reluctance, robbed her of the needful courage.

Guy was not a man of half measures, and, having accepted Helen's decision, resolutely put out of his mind his painful doubts, and trusted to the future to strengthen her love for him. She was greatly touched by his generosity and half ashamed of the stand she had taken, and now that the question of marriage was indefinitely postponed, persuaded herself that she was deeply attached to him, and that it would have been both cruel and unwise to have broken her engagement.

In September Guy took his vacation and, his mother having volunteered to go to the mountains with him, he induced Helen to accompany them. She had many qualms of conscience at leaving the children, but the invitation was a tempting one, and she had not the heart to disappoint her lover a second time. So, after strict injunctions to Mary, and urgent entreaties to Jean and Nathalie, she started off.

It was a delightful holiday for all three. Mrs. Appleton, who had no thought for anyone but her son, was overjoyed to see him in such high spirits, for of late she had thought him both sad and depressed; and Guy felt that his happiness was quite complete, for never had he had Helen so much to himself, and never had she been so frankly affectionate and sweet with him. The days glided by like a dream, even to Helen. She had thrust all worry and anxiety from her, and entered with eager interest and zest into all the plans for their pleasant journeyings. If now and then she found herself a bit wearied by Guy's unceasing attentions, she strenuously hid the fact from him and called herself strictly to account for the unworthy thought.

It was at a hotel on the borders of a beautiful lake that Helen first saw Lillian Stuart. One morning Guy had gone off fishing, and as Mrs. Appleton was writing letters in the seclusion of her room, Helen took her book and wandered out into the grounds in search of a cool, shady spot where she could read in peace. Coming at length upon a retired nook, she found herself forestalled, for, comfortably ensconced under the shade of a great willow, was a woman so beautiful that, as Helen caught sight of her, she could scarce repress an exclamation. The girl looked up, and their eyes met. Helen shyly dropped hers and passed quickly on, but that brief glimpse left a vivid impression upon her mind of a well-poised head, crowned with the most wonderful auburn hair, of a face dazzlingly fair, and a pair of deep violet eyes.

All day long Helen's thoughts reverted to this vision, and that afternoon, when Guy returned from his fishing, she gave him a glowing description of her encounter.

Just before dinner, while they were standing together in the corridor, the girl came toward them on her way to the dining room. Helen laid her hand impulsively on her lover's arm.

"Please look, Guy," she whispered. "Here she comes. Isn't she beautiful? Why, Guy," excitedly, "do you know her? She is bowing to you."

"Is that the woman you mean?" he asked, when he had gravely returned her bow.

"Why, yes. Where did you ever know her?"

"I met her at Baden, when I was over there."

"How strange," said Helen musingly. "Why did you never tell me about her?"

"Because I never liked her," he replied with decision, "and I trust you and she will not meet."

A curiously unaccountable feeling of resentment swept across Helen.

"I don't suppose there is much chance of it," she returned coldly.

It is the unexpected that happens; for one afternoon, only a few days later, as Helen stood talking with some friends on the broad hotel veranda, Miss Stuart joined the group and, before Helen had hardly appreciated the situation, an introduction had ensued.

In spite of Guy's protests a friendship sprang up between the two girls. It seemed to him that there was something almost pointed in the way Helen ignored his request, and followed up this acquaintance, to which he had so strenuously objected. Helen was not only fascinated and charmed by Miss Stuart's meteor-like brilliance, but felt, moreover, the keenest annoyance at the masterful way in which Guy had laid his injunctions upon her. He had maintained a strict reticence concerning his reasons, giving her no further explanation than that the friendship ran counter to his wishes. Helen's defiance was aroused, and perhaps a growing sense of ennui in her lover's society increased the temptation to welcome eagerly any new interest.

Meanwhile Miss Stuart had a well-defined motive in trying to secure Helen's friendship, and an even stronger desire to lessen Guy's influence with the girl. Whatever her past acquaintance with Guy had been, it would have been apparent to anyone less easily deceived than Helen, that she bore him no good will.

The rest of the holiday time, which had begun so happily, was spoiled for Guy, and he was relieved when at length their faces were turned toward home, feeling sure that a separation from Miss Stuart was all that was necessary to awaken Helen's loyalty to him and to put an end to what he considered a most unfortunate episode in the girl's life. To his deep sorrow their return did not accomplish his expectations, for not only had a correspondence been begun between the girls, but Helen's whole bearing toward him