be
so much to me."

Again Helen was grateful. The look of anxiety and distress returned as
she went on.

"I dare spare no effort for my father's sake. He has always been
kindness itself to me, and it is only now that I know how much I love
him. Hitherto I have taken life too easily, forgetting that sorrow and
tragedy could overtake me. I have heard the physician's verdict, and
know my father cannot be spared very long to me. I also know how his
mind is set upon the completion of his last great scheme. That is why,
and because of your promise, I have dared ask help of--you."

"Will it make it easier if I say that, quite apart from his daughter's
wishes, I am bound in honor to protect the interests of Julius Savine
so far as I can?" interposed Geoffrey. "Your father found me much as
you did, a struggling adventurer, and with unusual kindness helped me
on the way to prosperity. All I have I owe to him, and perhaps, the
more so because we have cunning enemies, my own mind is bent on the
completion of the scheme. I believe that we shall triumph, Miss
Savine, and I use the word advisedly, still expecting much from your
father's skill."

Helen gravely shook her head. "I recognize your kind intentions, but
you must expect nothing. It is a hard thing for me to say, but the
truth is always best, and again it is no small favor I ask from
you,--to do the work for the credit of another's name--taking his task
upon your shoulders, to make a broken man's last days easier. I want
you to sign the new partnership agreement, and am glad you recognize
that my father was a good friend to you."

The girl's courage nearly deserted her, for Helen was young still, and
had been severely tried. While Geoffrey, who felt that he would give
his life for the right to comfort her, could only discreetly turn his
face away.

"I will do it all, Miss Savine," he said gravely. "I had already
determined on as much, but you must try to believe that the future is
not so hopeless as it looks. You will consider that I have given you a
solemn pledge."

"Then I can only say God speed you, for my thanks would be inadequate,"
Helen's voice trembled as she spoke. "But I must also ask your
forgiveness for my presumption in judging you that day. I now know how
far I was mistaken."

Geoffrey knew to what she referred. The day had been a memorable one
for him, and, with pulses throbbing, he moved forward a pace, his eyes
fixed upon the spe