off
woods, and the flutter of a night-moth on the wing. Helen's face was
turned eastwards towards the fast-fading evening glow.

What is it that sends the curse of Cain into the human heart?

Did some foul and evil thing, wandering homeless around that fatal spot,
enter then and there, unbidden, into her sin-stained soul? Or had the
hellish spirit been always there within her, only biding its time to
burst forth in all its naked and hideous horror?

God only knows.

"Vera, gather me a water-lily! See how lovely they are. I am going back
to dance; I want a water-lily."

Vera looked up startled. The sudden change of manner and the familiar
mention of her name struck her as strange. Helen was leaning towards her,
all flushed and eager, pointing with her glistening, jewelled fingers
over the water.

"Don't you see how white they are, and how they gleam in the moonlight
like silver? Would not one of them look lovely in my hair?"

"I do not think I can reach them," said Vera, slowly. She was puzzled and
half-frightened by the quick, feverish words and manner.

"Yes, yes, your arms are long--much longer than mine; you can reach them
very well. See, I will hold the sleeve of your dress like this; it is
very strong. I can hold you quite safely. Kneel down and reach out for
it, Vera. Do, please, I want it so much. There is one so close there,
just beyond your hand. Stoop over a little further; don't be afraid;
I have got you tightly."

And Vera knelt and stretched out over the dark face of the waters.

Then, all at once, there was a cry--a wild struggle--a splash of the
dark, seething waves--and Helen stood up again in her bright raiment
alone on the margin of the pool; whilst ever-widening circles stretched
hurriedly away and away, as though terror-stricken, from the baleful
spot where Vera Nevill had sunk below the ill-fated waters.

* * * * *

Someone came madly rushing out of the bushes behind her. Helen screamed
aloud.

"It was an accident! She slipped forward--her footing gave way!" gasped
the unhappy woman in her terror. "Oh, Maurice, for pity's sake, believe
me; it was an accident!" She sunk upon her knees, with wildly
outstretched arms, and trembling, and uplifted hands.

"Stand aside," he said, hoarsely, pushing her roughly from him, so that
she almost fell to the earth, and he plunged deep into the still
quivering waters.

It was the water-lilies that brought her to her