CHAPTER XXVII.

Julian.-I scorn such dull, cold prating-Dust that's rasped
By saws, harsh grinding on the shuddering heart

Of tortured saplings, when their sap is dry.
Prudence-Fiends take the word, for 'tis their own

Whereby they conjure. In the larger scale
Lowest is Prudence, Law one breadth above,

Loftiest is Liberty,

Who knows no Prudence and transcends o'er Law

As Heaven transcends o'er Earth and sees not Hell.
Such is my creed.

Andreas.

Ay: Thine and Phaethon's,

Who, scorning Earth, set Moon and Stars on fire.

NEVERTHELESS, it must have been either a very wilful instinct, or else a miraculously keen one, that enabled Victor Waldron to recognise any traces of Helen Reid in the wife of Gideon Skull. As for her, she did not even comprehend, when he left her, that she had been brought into contact with a visitor from a new world. She could only know that she was utterly worn out with a lost battle, the course of which she was too tired to try to understand. She fancied she had scarcely energy enough left wherewith to loathe the man who had tricked her into the sacrifice of all that a woman has to give, knowing all the while that he for whom alone she made it was beyond the reach of its good and of its evil alike, and only-as it seemed to her-that he might through her step into her dead brother's shoes. How could she dream that Copleston had hitherto been but an excuse for passion? And, if she could have known it, it would only have given her almost enough energy for loathing him even to the fulness of her heart's desire.

Victor could not guess how much of mere weariness there was in her final submission to him at the close of their interview, nor she that there could be anything more. She could understand that Alan had been really dear to him, and this was enough to give him some sort of place apart from the rest of the world. He could not, therefore, be quite on the level where men think of nothing but getting the better of their neighbours. For she believed in Alan still. A man whom Alan had taken for a comrade would not have robbed widows and orphans like Victor Waldron, or have trafficked in a woman's soul like Gideon Skuli. Such a man would probably draw the line somewhere before quite reaching such things as these-at least, unless the temptation to do them became exceptionally strong. But, after all, except as having been the last to take her brother's

hand, he was nothing to her. When a swarm of hungry flies is in full buzz, it can matter little that one of them has a somewhat smaller appetite than the rest, or a shorter sting. She had to think of herself and for herself for the rest of her days. One must think of somebody; and nobody but herself was left to her. She was still too young to give up the need of living.

How should she live? Only one thing was certain-richer or poorer, it could not be with Gideon Skull. No reason could convince her that she was bound to a man who had, morally speaking, tricked her into a false marriage. She fancied herself arguing as fairly and as logically as if she were another woman when she told herself that she was in no respect bound to Gideon Skull, and that she had only imagined herself married to him. She might remain in his house as a guest for a few hours, if she could so far reduce the time, or for a few days, if she could not make them hours, without much new shame, so long as he stayed away; but to make any further use of his roof or his purse would be nothing less than infamy. She was less a wife, she thought with bitterness, than even her mother had been. She had lost her way in life, and was wandering towards that land of promise, that earthly paradise, wherein some place Love before Law, others Avarice, others Gluttony-in short, whatever passion or sentiment may best please them: only, Love has the best sound.

She was ceasing to be a girl, and had been a wife, and was friendless, and childless, and could not exercise the spirit of life, and had never known-except in her dreams of others-what Love means. Her heart was so utterly empty as to be famished, and open for any spirit which chance might bring to dwell therein. When all is said that anybody can find to say, one must live until one dies.

She was not surprised to see Victor Waldron, or rather Walter Gray, again. Whoever and whatever he might be, Alan's death was the most natural of bonds between them-it was the only bond, except of loathing and contempt, that linked Helen with another living soul. Indeed, without giving a conscious thought to the matter, she was not displeased to see him; for she was alone. Not only alone in every common sense, but in every sense that can be conceived. Had she known him to be as evil as she believed him not to be, it would have made but small difference to her. He must in any case be the best man she knew; for she knew nobody now except Gideon Skull.

"Have you heard anything yet?" asked he. He named Gideon

as seldom as he could, and had caught from her the trick of never speaking of him as her husband. So that "Have you heard anything?" came to mean, "Have you heard anything yet from Gideon Skull ?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," said she. "Only that usual word about whatever he calls good news. I cannot wait any more." "What can you do but wait?"

"I mean-How can I wait? Every mouthful of bread I eat in this house is choking me. I do want advice about how I ought to do things-not about what I ought to do. And I don't mind asking you for what advice I want, because what I do cannot concern youso, you can judge fairly. I am not passionately eager to live, but I don't want to starve while I do. I once before asked what I can do for a living. Now I ask you."

Had Victor Waldron been asked, by way of a general question, what a sensible man ought to do when another man's wife comes to him for counsel, he would ceftainly have answered, "Say good morning after as few minutes as may be, and don't call upon the same lady again." But of course, in the particular instance, there were many reasons to his hand for acting otherwise. Helen was really in trouble, and had nobody else to advise her. Secondly, she was his friend's sister; and a friend's sister is in some sort one's own. Thirdly, everything he could do would be all too little to make up for what he had cost her. All his faculties of counsel and of action were in some sort debts due to her. Chivalry is a dangerous quality for its owner; but it compels-especially when its owner is willing to be compelled.

"Before I can answer that," he said, "if I can answer it at allis there such an estrangement between you, for good and real cause, that you can never be reconciled, come what may? I'm not much of an adviser, I'm afraid; but the best would have to know how things really are."

"Then, I will tell you how things really are-don't think I'm going to betray the secrets of man and wife-I am no more Helen Skull than-than-I was Helen Reid. Don't look alarmed. I was christened Helen, and called Miss Reid, and I suppose the law would call me Helen Skull. But I married-as they call it-under the bargain that he was able and willing to make up to Alan for the loss of his inheritance, so that none might suffer but I."

"I won't-I can't believe that you-you, of all women in the world-would fail in your part of the bargain; for it was a bargain, and a bad one. Would Alan have let himself gain by your sale?"

"He would never have known it was a sale. He believed Gideon Skull his friend. Why should not his sister marry his friend? And how have I failed?"

"Was it his fault that he was mistaken in thinking himself rich? That has been always his very nature-so I have always heard. If he loved you so much that a man like Gideon Skull would——”

"Mr. Gray, Gideon Skull knew that Alan was dead; he knew it before he married me. It was through you I learned that, at our first meeting; and first he lied about it, and then he admitted it to be true. It is he who suppressed Alan's letters home; I learned that, at our second meeting, through you. Heaven knows why he wanted me. But he knew from the first why I married him—and he knew that-now tell me if I am married to him!"

"Good God!" cried Victor, without any thought but one. "Why, he must be the most infernal scoundrel unhung! No-I do not know what a scoundrel like that could want with a woman like you, except what all scoundrels" He rose from his seat, and walked up and down the room in a state of boiling indignation. "No," he said fiercely "no woman could be bound to such a man. There is something above law."

"You see!" said Helen quietly. "And now you can tell me what to do."

"But I cannot-nobody can. At least, not while one can only think in heat and anger. I will think for you, if I can. You are in the power of a wild beast, and you must be saved from him, law or no law. Alan shall not be dead, while I am alive. I was wrong when I told you to stay and wait. You should not have remained under his roof for an hour."

"I knew that I was right-for once. I will go. Now."

"Yes-now. But we must think first of what is to be done. What friends have you with whom you can stay till we have had time to think a little?"

"Friends-I? None. But I don't want friends--"

"Who wants them more? You know of absolutely nobody--?” "Absolutely nobody."

"Now' does not mean this moment. Let me see. I am much like you I am but just in town myself, and have no lady friends. If I had only known-wait a minute, though-I know of one good fellow, who has got a wife, and though I don't know her, I should think that, under the circumstances, there isn't a woman on earth who wouldn't stand by you. From this moment you must put yourself into my hands-and you may. I am going to leave you

now, but I shall be back within two hours. packing."

Spend them in

He hurried off without another word, or giving her the chance to answer him. He was on fire with her wrongs, of which he himself had been the cause. With impulse hot upon him he knocked at Dr. Dale's door, whom he expected to find-and found-at home.

"Are you inclined to do the kindest thing you ever did in your life, Dale?" asked he ;-"you, or any man?"

"Very much indeed, Gray. But one needn't be in such a hurry to do it, whatever it is, as you seem to be. It's never too late to do a kindness, you know. And you can tell me about it sitting as well as walking, I suppose."

"No, I can't. I've got to walk off a rage. done now or never."

"Well?"

And this must be

"If I knew Mrs. Dale, I'd go straight to her instead of coming to her through you. Has she got a spare room for a night or two?" "You want to pay us a visit? Come, and welcome; only remember that we put down rather an expensive new carpet when we set up house, and don't want it walked into holes."

"I want Mrs. Dale to offer it to Mrs. Skull." "Mrs. Skull!

What the d—”

"Yes; it's a matter of life and death-at least, of real charity. I have found out that Skull is a scoundrel, with whom-and under more circumstances than I can tell you-no woman with a grain of self-respect would go on living for a day. She can't, and she mustn't, for an hour. But she's got no friends, and I'm afraid no means, and—"

"Hold hard, Gray! I must understand all this a little better, if you please. You seem to take uncommon interest in the affairs of Mrs. Skull !"

"I do, and good reason why. I knew her and all about her years ago. I can answer for her. Leave Skull she must, and she knows nobody to go to, and I nobody but you. I'd take care she shouldn't be your guest more days than would have to be."

"The deuce you would! Take care what you're doing, Gray. It's uncommonly easy to get one's head into a halter, but I never heard of but one man who ever got it out again; and he wasn't a bit like you." "I tell you

"Clearly a case for dry sherry. Sit down, for once, and listen to me. You're actuated by chivalry, and pity, and honour, and all that, of course; that I perfectly understand. It's wonderful what a lot of