ith his.

April 4th.--We have had a downright quarrel. The particulars are as
follows: Arthur had told me, at different intervals, the whole story of
his intrigue with Lady F--, which I would not believe before. It was
some consolation, however, to find that in this instance the lady had
been more to blame than he, for he was very young at the time, and she
had decidedly made the first advances, if what he said was true. I hated
her for it, for it seemed as if she had chiefly contributed to his
corruption; and when he was beginning to talk about her the other day, I
begged he would not mention her, for I detested the very sound of her
name.

'Not because you loved her, Arthur, mind, but because she injured you and
deceived her husband, and was altogether a very abominable woman, whom
you ought to be ashamed to mention.'

But he defended her by saying that she had a doting old husband, whom it
was impossible to love.

'Then why did she marry him?' said I.

'For his money,' was the reply.

'Then that was another crime, and her solemn promise to love and honour
him was another, that only increased the enormity of the last.'

'You are too severe upon the poor lady,' laughed he. 'But never mind,
Helen, I don't care for her now; and I never loved any of them half as
much as I do you, so you needn't fear to be forsaken like them.'

'If you had told me these things before, Arthur, I never should have
given you the chance.'

'Wouldn't you, my darling?'

'Most certainly not!'

He laughed incredulously.

'I wish I could convince you of it now!' cried I, starting up from beside
him: and for the first time in my life, and I hope the last, I wished I
had not married him.

'Helen,' said he, more gravely, 'do you know that if I believed you now I
should be very angry? but thank heaven I don't. Though you stand there
with your white face and flashing eyes, looking at me like a very
tigress, I know the heart within you perhaps a trifle better than you
know it yourself.'

Without another word I left the room and locked myself up in my own
chamber. In about half an hour he came to the door, and first he tried
the handle, then he knocked.

'Won't you let me in, Helen?' said he. 'No; you have displeased me,' I
replied, 'and I don't want to see your face or hear your voice again till
the morning.'

He paused a moment as if dumfounded or uncertain how to answer such a
speech, and then turned and walked away. This