nd
without a thought of the result, he married her, neglecting to tell
her his real name before their marriage, because he feared she would
cease to respect him if she knew he had deceived her, and then
afterward finding it harder than ever to confess his fault.

As time wore on, his father's letters, commanding him to return, grew
more and more peremptory, until at last he wrote, "I am
sick--dying--and if you do not come, I'll cast you off forever."

Harry knew this was no unmeaning threat, and he now began to reap the
fruit of his folly. He could not give up Helena, who daily grew
dearer to him, neither could he brave the displeasure of his father
by acknowledging his marriage, for disinheritance was sure to follow.
In this dilemma he resolved to compromise the matter. He would leave
Helena awhile; he would visit his father, and if a favorable
opportunity occurred, he would confess all; if not, he would return
to his wife and do the best he could. But she must be provided for
during his absence, and to effect this, he wrote to his father,
saying he stood greatly in need of five hundred dollars, and that
immediately on its receipt he would start for home. Inconsistent as
it seemed with his general character, the elder Mr. Graham was
generous with his money, lavishing upon his son all that he asked
for, and the money was accordingly sent without a moment's hesitation.

And now Harry's besetting sin, _secrecy_, came again in action, and
instead of manfully telling Helena the truth, he left her privately,
stealing away at night, and quieting his conscience by promising
himself to reveal all in a letter, which was actually written, but as
at the time of its arrival Helena was at home, and the postmaster
knew of no such person, it was at last sent to Washington with
thousands of its companions. The reader already knows how 'Lena's
young mother watched for her recreant husband's coming until life and
hope died out together, and it is only necessary to repeat that part
of the story which relates to Harry, who on his return home found his
father much worse than he expected. At his bedside, ministering to
his wants, was a young, dashing widow, who prided herself upon being
Lady Bellmont. On his death-bed her father had committed her to the
guardianship of Mr. Graham, who, strictly honorable in all his
dealings, had held his trust until the time of her marriage with a
young Englishman.

Unfortunately, as it proved fo