young Rivers devoted himself entirely
to her happiness, seeming to forget that there was aught else in the
world save his "beautiful 'Lena," as he was wont to call her. But at
last there came a change. Harry seemed sad, and absent-minded,
though ever kind to Helena, who strove in vain to learn the cause of
his uneasiness.

One morning when, later than usual, she awoke, she missed him from
her side; and on the table near her lay a letter containing the
following:--

"Forgive me, darling, that I leave you so abruptly. Circumstances
render it neccessary, but be assured, I shall come back again. In
the mean time, you had better return to your parents, where I will
seek you. Enclosed are five hundred dollars, enough for your present
need. Farewell.

"H. RIVERS."

There was one bitter cry of hopeless anguish, and when Helena Rivers
again awoke to perfect consciousness, she lay in a darkened room,
soft footsteps passed in and out, kind faces, in which were mingled
pity and reproach, bent anxiously over her, while at her side lay a
little tender thing, her infant daughter, three weeks old. And now
there arose within her a strong desire to see once more her
childhood's home, to lay her aching head upon her mother's lap, and
pour out the tale of grief which was crushing the life from out her
young heart.

As soon, therefore, as her health would permit, she started for
Oakland, taking the precaution to procure from the clergyman, who had
married her, a letter confirming the fact. Wretched and weary she
reached her home at the dusk of evening, and with a bitter cry fell
fainting in the arms of her mother, who having heard regularly from
her, never dreamed that she was elsewhere than in the employ of Mrs.
Warren. With streaming eyes and trembling hands the old man and his
wife made ready the spare room for the wanderer more than once
blessing the fearful storm which for a time, at least, would keep
away the prying eyes of those who, they feared, would hardly credit
their daughter's story.

And their fears were right, for many of those who visited them on the
night of which we have spoken, disbelieved the tale, mentally
pronouncing the clergyman's letter a forgery, got up by Helena to
deceive her parents. Consequently, of the few who from time to time
came to the old farmhouse, nearly all were actuated by motives of
curiosity, rather than by feelings of pity for the young girl-mother,
who, though feeling th