ouds from her soul; and, with a trembling cry for mercy, she
staggered towards a large chair, into which she fell, fainting and
exhausted.

As the sun was rising, Walter Jerrold, who had travelled all night from
New York, whither he had been on business of importance, opened his
house-door with a private key, and entered without disturbing the
servants. He ran up to Helen's door, and finding it locked, opened his
dressing-room, which adjoined hers, with the same key, and pushing back
the silk draperies which hung between them, went in, and, to his alarm
and amazement, saw her, still arrayed in her festal robes sleeping in
the chair, into which she had fallen. Her face was as white as the
drooping roses on her bosom, and her countenance wore an expression of
pain.

"Helen!" he whispered, as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Helen,
are you ill?"

"Will! It was burnt. Will!" she cried, starting up, and looking
wildly around her. "Oh, Walter! I am so glad you are here at last. I
have had a frightful dream."

"Helen, you are ill, I fear. What means this unwonted confusion;--have
you been out, and just come in? What is the meaning of it all--and
_what is this_?" he said, while he stooped down to pick up the crystal
_flacon_ which had dropped out of its case on the floor.

"Dear Walter, don't open it, for the world! It is a cosmetic. I am
too white, sometimes, and touch my cheeks with it," exclaimed Helen,
starting up; "do give it to me."

"No, Helen; my wife must be _real_ in all things. I do not approve of
artificial coloring; so, to save you from temptation, I shall put it
out of your reach!" replied her husband, throwing the _flacon_ out into
the street. A lean, hungry dog, prowling about in search of food,
rushed to the spot--hoping, no doubt, that it was a morsel from the
rich man's table--but no sooner had his nose touched the spot, then,
uttering a loud howl, he fell dead.

"Helen! explain this mystery!" he exclaimed, grasping her hand, and
drawing her to the window. "Are your cosmetics all poisons as deadly
as that?"

"Walter! this is horrible! Poison? Why, Walter, it might have killed
me!" she gasped, hiding her pallid face in his bosom.

"Helen, answer me, by the love and trust I bear you, did you know that
the contents of that _flacon_ were poisonous? Look up, dear Helen, and
answer me, yes or no."

"No, Walter--on my honor, no. You have saved me from a horrible
death," she repl