Helen,' said my lover, 'they shall glitter on that fair brow in
a prouder scene, when thy beauty shall gladden the eyes of England's
nobles, and create envy in her fairest daughters.'

"I listened with a smile, and, on my father's return, passed another
evening of happiness--my last!

"We retired early, and oh, how bright were the dreams that floated around
my pillow, how sweet the sleep that stole upon me as I painted the
future--an elysium of love and splendor! I was awakened by a wild cry that
rang with agonizing horror through the midnight stillness: it was the
voice of my father. I sprang hastily from my couch, threw on a wrapper,
seized the night-lamp, and hurried to his chamber. Ruffians opposed my
entrance; the Indian cabinet lay shattered on the floor, and I beheld my
father struggling in the fierce grasp of a man, who had clasped his throat
to choke the startling cry. With maniac force I reached the couch, and,
seizing the murderous hand, called aloud for help. The robber started with
a wild execration, the mask fell from his face, and I beheld the features
of Gilbert Corrie!...

"When I recovered consciousness, I found that I had suffered a long
illness--a brain fever, caused, the strange nurse said, by some sudden
shock. Alas, how dreadful had been that fatal cause! Sometimes I think my
head has never been cool since; a dull throb of agony presses yet upon my
brow; sometimes it passes away; my spirits mount lightly, and I can laugh,
but it has a hollow sound--oh, how unlike the sweet laughter of by-gone
days!...

"We were in London. My apartments were sumptuous: all that wealth could
supply was mine; but what a wretch was I amid that scene of splendor! The
destroyer was now the arbiter of my destiny. I knew his wealth arose from
his nefarious transactions at the gaming-table. I knew my father was dead;
the severe injuries he had received on that fatal night and the mysterious
disappearance of his daughter had laid him in his grave. Gilbert Corrie
was virtually his murderer, yet still I loved him! A passion partaking of
delirium bound me to his destiny. I shrank not from the caress of the
felon gamester--the plague-stain of sin was upon me--the burning plow-shares
of the world's scorn lay in my path, and how was the guilty one to dare
the fearful ordeal? For fallen woman there is _no return;_ no penitence
can restore her sullied brightness; the angel-plumes of purity are
scattered in the dust, and never ca