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[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] THE BLACK RIBBON. i BY L. T. M EA I) E (AUTHOR OF "A W0MA2T IX GREY," &c.) CHAPTER I. w Delafield had passed through all Oledical examinations -with much credit himself. He was now a. Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, besides being an M.B. of Cambridge. Ho felt that he could look the world in the fa-ce. and was as gay and ur' bight and all-thero a young fellow as could lIe seen in the length and breadth of England. e was very well made and pleasant to look His smile was congenial, bis hand cool firm. It was sasid of him that would an admirable surgeon by-and-bye, and v'a« also remarked that the professors of hia hospital, the far-famed Bartholomew's, significantly that Delafield would eard of yet in medical world. that as it may, his numerous examina- l0»s were things of the past. The dissecting- I'ooltl, with all its dreary and terrible work, 1I.eed no longer engross his time. The exami- 1I.ation ha116 should know him no more. at 6a^* for the present. Ire meant to take a three months' holiday, the first step in that direction was to visit 8 young cousins and favourite relations, the of the Pines, a charming country in the neighbourhood of Haslemere. ■^fcurice wired to Rupert Lumsdale, his cousin, a man of three or four and with the result that they both Celled down to the Pines on a certain *a'rQi Saturday evening, intending to make "'eek of it at least before London saw them *eain. "This is jolly," said Belafield. "I never in better form in my life. It is such a 'if?htful sensation to feel that it is done." Oh, you can never feel that." remarked J lnifisdale significantly. "There's always pother examination of sorts looming ahead, on, I expect, until yon reach your grave. "'nat is expected of you at the other side of gulf must be left to conjecture." "How gloomy you are, Rupert!" responded" 1raurice. "How are matters going with you, ()ld chap? I hear that you are already Iboken of ag the prop of your ancient house 111 the mercantile world." :n.UDert coloured slightly. I "The fact is," he said, after a pause, "I am 11 love, Maurice. I want you to see my girl 'nd to know what you think of her." Maurice started forward and wrung Lums- dale's hand with much heartiness. 1 couldn't hear better news," he said. me all about her." ^ttpert, nothing loth, broke into the ^tomary story. He had, of course, found J16 rara avis amongst women; her name was t>ty Pembridge. Her father and sisters and IIb.Q lived in a large modern house about a :tn.ile away from the Pines. They had come a year ago. Rupert and Kitty had met. hey had found that each possessed an attraction for the other, and now Rupert was about to put his happiness to the test. 'That is what makes me so beastly ^ei"vous," he said in conclusion. "I shall pro- j^hly go and see her to-night. I have not the a«t idea whether she will take me. As as not she will scoff at the notion Then she cannot possibly be girl you ^Ve been trying to describe to me," was price's answer. k'8Ws the best girl in the world," said J^rt, smiling. "You will agree with me v you see her. I suppose any man would Nervous who had to get through thia sort e thing. But I am due at Mount Edge this and won't leave before I know my .1. ^ish you luck, old man," said Delafield. ft tell me about others. How is I>elafield mentioned Helen's name face again became clouded. 8 °Q know all about her, don't you?" he "d significantly. 'Can't eay that I do. Haven't seen her for t.o years. I thought her the most lovely on earth then. Why, Rupert, what 18 it? Your face is grave." h "It is only that Helen is home again, and v no means herself. In fact, she is extremely > and we are all anxious about her." "J! JSelen in bad health!" cried Maurice, hat do yoa mean?" "It is all since she went to Russia." "B.. av go to Russia? I knew nothing *V>at it/, "W ell, you see, old fellow, you never wrote, v ln consequence, our mutual relations Ca,tne a little thin, to say the least of it. ill *° Ina^e a l°n? story short, Helen was t° g° as English governess and com- to a young Russian heiress at ^Sinning winter. s^o -wag to have a 3'e Salary, not less than three hundred a ttttr, and everything found and the utmost ^6lltiQn She was all agog to go. As for t11 g afraid of Nihilists or anything silly of at SOrt, she simply laughed the idea to ra- was to go to house of a very at majlj a certain Professor Kristofski, "Was to instruct his only daughter, ^eQioiselle Olga, in English and its various 1 'lJ ^ches. I never knew anyone in higher lts than our Helen when she went away. I 8e"Sbe remained in St. Petersburg for about j en months, and came back unexpectedly, {h lt111g ghastly white and fearfully nervous. 1.11 Would tell us nothing about her adven- and seemed to dislike to allude to the flt} Jc()t. We were shocked at her appearance, 4 d Mother began blaming the Kristofskis for ae sent back her darling such a wreck. » Helen very nearly flew at the old mater, y 11 Baid that she would not hear a single ord ag £ uinst them; that the professor was '(q' iji the dearest and most learned old man ^6 v ever met, and that Olga was too ^^ing for words." j hen what are you anxious about?'' inter- .f^d Delafield. I St and I will tell you, old man. This °f things went on "for about a fortnight, tw t'hen all of a sudden day Helen, aged ^nty.one) in the prime of her youth and became paralysed. She was unable to 8)¡ k. The doctor was sent for, and he said ig had had a slight 6}^ tter now, and is lying on her sofa, but gj. n^ver attempts to put her feet to the 1. Itnd. Of course, Marjory and Anne, the y°ttng ones, are devoted to her, and so is V I°at«r and the dear old governor, and so, !l.o means least, is your humble servant. it "'oe can't make out what can have caused Brett says that she has certainly been l^^ted to some severe shock, but of what U1'e is more than we can possibly surmise. 40 t. You will see her for yourself. I am bing," continued Rupert, the colour rising ojf a,^a^n to his face, "that if I can hit it toy ^lth Kitty it may rouse Helen a little, is devoted to me, and would do any- on earth to promote my happiness. tell gether, the thing is strange, but you will -!116 what you think when you have seen JU t"'F'ng the remainder of the journey Dela- cUST,. 8at" hack comfortably against the Iv, ioQs of first-class smoking compart- ^iit ■ ln which they were travelling, lost in ""a. ^ture. For many years he had had a in his heart for his beautiful tjj lll> Helen Lumsdale. He considered her j^ost queenly and gracious young woman a.d eVer met. When he had last seen her jost nineteen years of a^re, tall and !^ht as a dart, with a queenly head, which %h0 carried well on perfectly moulded c'ers; with a bright laugh, which awoke of mirth in all those who heard it; a. 6Tnile so sweet that it was like sun- 1tself, and clear eyes, with a straight t<> in them, that somehow had contrived ^hh^°Wn a deep way 'n Delafield's sensitive, young heart. He was not exactly in Helen, but if ever be thought of a, k possible future wife she bore a distinct resemblance in face and manner to his favourite cousin. Now Helen was changed, was very ill. She had gone to Russia in rude health, and had returned home a wreck. What did it all mean ? A dogcart awaited the young men at Hasle- mere, and they were soon toiling at a rapid rate along the country roads, and in a very few minutes found themselves at the Pines. It was a glorious evening towards the end of July, and, sultry as the day had been in town, a fresh, delicious air was blowing here. Dela- field's keen eye took in the scene at a glance: the beautifully-kept gardens, the smooth rolling lawns, the trees under whose shade were hung hammocks of different shapes and sizes, the gay voice of a girl as she laughed and chatted with other girls, the unmistakable click of the croquet balls on the croquet lawn to his left, a graceful manipula- tion of a tennis bat. revealing the perfect form of a joung Amazon, who turned out presently to be his cousin Anne, and in the distance, lying under the shade of a tree, a white-robed, girlish figure, with a dark head of richly clustering hair, and a pale, pure- looking face. Delafield suddenly felt his heart in his mouth. Anne and Marjory made a rush at him. His host was seen at a little distance advancing to meet him. Mrs. Lumsdale rose from the seat where she had been busily embroidering a new centre-piece for the dinner table. Belafield uttered a hurried greeting to one and all, and the next minute found himself bending over his cousin Helen. "Why, Nell," he said, "what is the matter?" His eyes spoke their consternation, and Helen, looking full up into them, suddenly discovered that her own were brimful of tears. "I am so very glad to see you again," she said. He dropped on a low chair by her side, and a hurried conversation began, during which Helen all too evidently avoided the subject of her own health. "How long can yon stay with us, Maurice?" was her final question. She uttered the words eagerly. Her big, dark eyes fixed themselves with an expression partly of anxiety, partly of desire on his faoe. "I don't quite know," he answered. "I expect I can remain here for a week or two, as long as you want me. Oousin Nell, you know," he added fervently, "that I am always at your service—always." She held out her hand, and said solemnly: "Take my hand, and say those words again." He coloured, but immediately grasped the slim young hand between both his own. "I will say them a thousand times if you like," he remarked, "for I mean them. You know, Nell; you must know-" "Hush!" she interrupted, as Mrs. Lumsdale was seen advancing towards them. Helen called out to her mother: "It is good to have Maurice back again, isn't it? It seems just like old times." "Indeed, it does, my darling," said the mother. "But aren't you tired, Nell? Wouldn't you like to have your couch taken baok into the house?" "Indeed, no," was the answer. "What I really want is to have supper out here under the trees. Let Maurice bring it to me. And, Maurice, when you have finished your own come and have a smoke close to my side." "I will," heTeplied. "And do let me go and tell the servants. It is perfectly lovely, not only to visit at the Pines, but to feel so abso- lutely at home." "He is a right good fellow," said Mrs. Lums- dale, as the young man walked quickly across the grass. "It has done you good already to see him, Helen." "It has, mother. I have always been very fond of Maurice." Mrs. Lumsdale now seated herself in the chair which Maurice had occupied. "Dr. Brett has just been to see us, Helen. He has arranged that Mr. Serjeant, the great surgeon, is to come down to-mcrrow and give you a thorough examination. Do you mind, darling? Aren't you glad? Anything to make you well again." "But I can't see him, mother." "Helen! What do you mean?" "I can't—it is impossible. He must not come. Mother, darling, can't you let me get well gradually? Relieve me, there is no danger. This is a case of pure nerves. If I am to have a miserable night dreading the arrival of this great surgeon, I shall be very bad by the morning. Oh, mother, do be guided by me. Do write to Dr. Brett, and say that he must countermand Mr. Serjeant's attendance." "But your father and I both wish it, Helen." Helen remained silent for a minute. Her face, which was always destitute of colour, was now painfully white, but her lips had a curiously resolved expression about them. She folded her slender hands together, and then said: "Mother, yoa don't want me to pain you?" "Of course not, dearest. What do you mean?" "I must speak. I have never wilfully dis-I obeyed you." "Indeed, indeed not. You have been the sweetest darling." "I can't see this doctor. I am of age. I am virtually my own mistress, with my own private means, left to me by dear old Aunty Anne. I will go away-yee, somehow, in some fashion—to-morrow, if you insist on Mr. Serjeant visiting me. If he comes to the house before I leave, I will refuse to see him. He cannot force himself into my presence; the liberty of the British subject forbids." "Helen, your conduct amazes me. I had not the slightest idea that you felt so strongly about it. But here is your father; he will talk to you." Mr. Lumsdale was as fine looking an elderly gentleman as could be found anywhere. He was in cricketing flannels now, and looked his best in this most becoming costume. He strode across the garden at his wife's call, and came and stood, looking down at Helen. It needed but a glance to observe what a very strong likeness existed between father and daughter. The same pure, pale, olive complexion, the same lustrous eyes, the same colour in the hair, which in the man's head was rapidly changing to iron grey. There was also the proud, unmistakable obstinacy in lips and ohin. "Well, Nell," said her father, "and how are you this evening, my pet?" "Quito comfortable, father. I have neither ache nor pain, and am lying here rejoicing in the attendance of my subjects. I feel some- thing like a queen on the throne; everyone bows down to me. Even darling mother and you, my dear father., must do the same." "Tell your father at once what you really wish, Helen—the strange resolve you have come to," said her mother. "I am satisfied with Dr. Brett's attendance," said Helen then, "but I will not see Mr. Serjeant, the great London doctor." "But is he coming? Is it arranged?" said Lumsdale, looking with eagerness at his wife. "It is, Henry. But this extraordinary child dees not wish it. It is really most annoying and unaccountable. Dr. Brett said all along that a second opinion was necessary. He was keenly anxious to get Mr. Serjeant, who is. as you know, one of our most eminent surgeons, to see Helen, and now Helen herself, without rhyme or reason, refuses to see him." "The rhyme is in my heart, and the reason in my head," answered Helen lightly. She looked up as she spoke with a wan smile. There was something inexpressibly sad and even mysterious about her. Her fa.ther and mother looked down upon her, puzzled, (annoyed, and non-comprehending. "I won't see him," she repeated. "I want you, father, to help me. I shall be well again before long, and I won't see Mr. Serjeant." "But have you no reason for this extraordi- nary caprice, Helen?" "Only that I won't. You have heard what a woman's 'won't' is, haven't you, daddy?" "I have. Well, this is very odd." "We shall not decide just now," said Mrs. Lumsdale. "If we sand a line just before bed- time to Dr. Brett, he will arrange the matter." "You ought to send at once, mother. You really ought," said Helen, "for, of course, a great man like Mr. Serjeant must be allowed plenty of time to arrange his plans." Mrs. Lumsdale glanced at her husband. After a moment they left Helen and walked across the lawn. "What does this mean?" said the wife, look- ing with anxiety into Lumsdale's face. "Only the caprice of a girl whose nerves are i out of order," was the reply. "Then you insist on her seeing Serjeant?" "Of course, Fanny. Is it likely that I should allow my child to linger on afflicted with such a terrible disease as paralysis with- out getting the best possible advice?" "She will object; she will make a scene; she will make a fuss. It will injure her terribly." "Nevertheless, I shall insist on my own way. Helen will submit when she finds she has to face the inevitable. All women do." The husband and wife entered the house. Supper was announced, and Maurice Delafield waited on Helen. She had more than assumed her former interest in his eyes. As soon as he could get a chance he left the supper table and seated himself by her side "Fill your pipe, Maurice, and sit just here, facing me. Oh,* it is glood to have you back again." "But tell me, Helen," he replied, bending towards her and speaking with great earnest- ness, "can I help you in any way? I want to, beyond words. Why do you object to seeing one of the best surgeons in London? Surely, this is not wise, not like you, dear. You were always remarkable for common-sense; exer- ci&e it now, won't you? Even if Serjeant's visit should be disagreeable to you, it will be quickly over, and his opinion will be worth any small inconvenience you may suffer." "But suppose his opinion is adverse?" said Helen, colouring, and then turning pale. "Why should it be? You know I am a bit of a doctor myself. I mean I am qualified, and I have seen many cases of paralysis affecting old and young. But I never saw anyone look exactly like you, Nell, while suffering from the complaint. You look still so keen, so vigorous, although you are pale. Why, what is the matter? What have I said?" "Nothing," she answered. "Oh, nothing." She took up her handkerchief, and passed it over her face. To his astonishment, Maurice I Delafield observed that large drops of dew, as though caused by great mental perturbation, stood out on her forehead. He took up a newspaper that lay near, and began to fan her. "You are much worse than I thought," he said anxiously. "No, I am not. I am not really. I agree with you, but I don't want the others to know. I won't see this doctor, and you must help me. It is, I am certain, a case of nerves. I "Why, what is tho matter? What have I eaid?'' I Yes, of nerves, and I won't see him. And, Maurioe, you must help me." "I will do what I can," he answered slowly. "I am, I confess it, astonished at your atti- tude." "Then be astonished, Maurice. What is good of an old friend if he cannot sometimes help one he has known since she was a child through a tight place?" "Oh, is it that?" he answered with eager- ness. "Then, indeed, I will do my utmost. Yes, Helen, you may rely on me, and please remember just now that I also am a doctor. Imagine that I have come to see you profes- j sionally. Tell me your symptoms." "I have no symptoms. I simply desire to lie here and rest. I rejoice in the oomforta that surround me. I eat with appetite; I sleep like a top. Why should anyone be uneasy I: -a.bout me?" "Uneasy, my dear girl! Why should anyone be uneasy who sees you in the prime of your beautiful youth-you who ought to be all life and activity, and yet you cannot put your feet to the ground-you cannot walk a step. Helen, what has come to you? There must be a reason for all this." "There is," she answered in a very low tone. He bent towards her. "Maurice," she said slowly, "I speak to you in confidence. I have se«n that which would make—but no, I will not tell you. What 1 have seen I shall never divulge. Only, Maurice, having been away for six months in a land differing in all respects from ours, I have come back, not only never to be the old Helen again, but with an inexplicable and passionate desire to return to Russia." "But, Helen, Russia mMc you ill. Peters- burg sent you back a wreck, and yet you want to return." "I do, for my heart is there." "Helen!" Maurice wondered why all of a sudden the ground seemed to open under his feet, why he had a distinct and wild desire to bury him- self from sight of all human beings. Then he knew what had happened. He became deadly calm. Oh, yes, he had been fond of his cousin Helen in the past. But at that supreme moment he knew that he loved her with the first, best, and deepest love in his nature. When she spoke of her heart being in Russia his eyes were opened. "Are you engaged to one of those foreign counts?" was hia next question said the words with intense solemnity. Her answer relieved him. "I engaged!" she cried. "Certainly not. I shall never marry, dear old Maurice, but I just want a friend; a man friend would be best. Will you be my friend, Maurice? Will you help me?" "I will. It is good of you to ask me." "You won't like what you have got to do." "Liking has nothing to do with it." "I shall have to ask you to help me with your eyes shut. Will you stand that?" "I will stand anything for you—but "There must be no 'buts' in our friendship, Maurice. I want to test you before I offer you the post of my confidential friend, my real, my true friend." Helen's eyes were dangerously beautiful as she fixed them on Maurice Del-a-field's face. "I will take responsibility," he said eagerly. "And I don't want you to test me any further. I will go with you even through the dark. There, give me your hand again." He held out his hand, and she laid hers within it. "What a difference there is in our two hands!" said, with a slight amile. "Yours so big and muscular, mine so small, and, I suppose, so white. And yet, Maurice, this right hand has a task before it which—ah! Maurice, dear, I want rest, just rest, before I set out on that which has been given to do. There is a battle, and a sharp one, before me, hut if I can count on you to help me through thick and thin I believe I can con- quer." "You can count on me." "Well," she said lightly, and withdrawing her hand as she spoke, "the first thing you have got to do in the cause of your liege lady is to deliver her from Dr. Serjeant, for 11 won't see him, Maurice. Yoa understand?" "You shan't see him, Helen, and-I under- stand." As Delafield spoke he stood up. Mr. Lume- dale was seen approaching them. "I will go and meet him. I will arrange it," he said. He crossed the lawn. j "May I have a word with you, sir?" asked. "Certainly, Maurice, my boy. Twenty, fifty, a hundred words if you like. a cigar before we begin." "Certainly, Maurice, my boy. Twenty, fifty, a hundred words if you like. Have a cigar before we begin." I Maurice paused to light his cigar. As he took the first puff, and the two men found themselves walking down a shady alley, he said suddenly: "Yoa know that I am a doctor, full blown?" "Of course, I do, and I congratulate you. You have done splendidly—fellowship and all." "Yes, fellowship and all." "And what do you mean to do in the imme- I diate future, Mauric«? I know, of course, that you are not rich, my boy. It will be necessary for you to work hard for your living." "So much the better," said Maurice. "And I mean to work hard," he continued, "for I an object in life, but there is no special hurry. I shall not buy a practice or anything of that wrt. I should like a big specialist in London to take me up, and give me a post in his house, whether he paid me or not.. But there really is no hurry. I want to talk to you now about Helen." "Helen?" said Mr. Lumsdale eagerly. "Yes, you have been talking to her. I am glad she j is inclined to be friends with you. Have you heard of that preposterous idea of hers to refuse to see Serjeant?" "Well, sir, I don't consider it preposterous." "Delafield, what do you mean?" "I don't think she needs advice just now. Here is a case for soothing and healing, not irritating." "Bl,ess my soul! What does the boy mean?" "What I say, sir. I have been talking to her, and I find that her aversion to seeing a specialist is very deep-rooted. I should advise you, Cousin Henry, to yield to it. Believe me, you will do Helen harm if you force her just now." "How mysterious you are!" said the owner of the Pines, frowning as ho spoke. "Helen has been getting round you." "I cannot deny," answered the young man, colouring as he spoke, "that has brought her influence to bear on me. I find it con- j vincing. I strongly advise you to allow her to follow her own way for at least a fort- night." "Well, well," said Lumsdale. "I should not listen to anyone else, but I have a great opinion of you. I must mount my cob and go across to see Brett, who will be considerably annoyed. You think we must postpone the consultation for a fortnight?" "I should certainly." "Well, perhaps it is best. She will have excitement enough without that." "What do you mean?" "That damned professor—I can't help call- ing him so—Kristofski—is coming to see her— the man in whose house she was staying in Petersburg. I hate him. But Helen will be intensely excited 'about it. You see what a wreck she has returned. Well, he comes to- morrow. She got to know these people through the Penibridges, and the professor will be staying at their house. Kitty has jrst J across with her sisters, and has brought the news. I am more SG-rry than I can say." I CHAPTER n. Immediately after supper that warm, still, delightful summer's evening Rupert Lumsdale strolled across the fields which divided the Pines from Mount Edge. Mount Edge had been the caprice of a rich mill-owner some years ago. He had built it to please himself and a young wife, who had died before she had time to take possession of her magnificent home. The house was built on a solid and very large scale, and of stone, which made it enormously expensive. It presented a grey, somewhat ugly pile to the spectator who viewed it from afar, but the grounds surrounding mansion were immaculate and very beautiful. rooms immaculate. and very beautiful. The rooms were exquisitely furnished, and were in them- selves lofty and of fine proportions. The hall, which reached tup to the carved oak roof of the house, was in itself a special feature. There was a solid stone staircase, with galleries running round each of the two floors which divided the house. Altogether, it was an irreproachable sort of residence, but it had no look of age about it, and Rupert often said to himself that he would rather have one corner of the cosy, low-roomed Pinee than any amount of rooms in Mount Edge. Nevertheless, it was at Mount Edge that the [ lady of his heart resided. Naturally, there- fore, there was a glamour over the entire place. He was thinking of Kitty now, as he walked along, wondering if he could bring courage to his lips and fortitude to his heart —if he could really ask the momentous ques- tion. He knew perfectly well that if Kitty refused him his life would be, for a time, absolutely blank. He thought that he could not face the world without her. His affec- tions were of the strong, almost tempestuous order, and Kitty Pembridge—gay, vivacious, with her fair hair, her. and her I spirited face—had long ago first caught his fancy, and then secured his heart. Pembridges were, on the whole, a family completely out of common. There were four sisters, Kitty being eldest. After her Connie, a dark-eyed, somewhat sombre beauty; and then, with three years ,be1.woon, the twins made their appearance They were remarkably pretty, fair-haired girls, of the names of Sybil and Ernestine. They were not more than fifteen years of age, inseparable, quarrelled, it up again, walked about arm in arm, were at daggers drawn one minute, clasped in the ties of closest affection the next; were gay, spirited, full of laughter, and merry of the merry. In short, they were a charming pair. There was no mother in this family, and Kitty was supposed to manage them with a rod of iron. In reality, let go according to her own sweet will. There no brothers, only the four girls, and a tall, slender, very aristocratic-looking father. He boasted of no profession, and^had no appa- rent story to tell of his early life. He rented Mount Edge, and lived there very luxuriously, giving his daughters carriage horses and riding horses, and every other imaginable delight, being led by Kitty to any extent, and making few, or, indeed, any, friends in the neighbourhood. Even Mr. Lumedale, of the I Pines, never quite knew what to maJse of the taciturn, dark man, who yet was so abso- lutely immaculate and respectable and all that meant a gentleman of a somewhat older school than oum. Kitty resembled her father in some ways, although he was dark and she was fair, but there was a look of such resolution and pur- pose in her keen blue eyes that she might in reality have been a maiden from the pas- j 6ionato South, instead of a fair-haired daughter of England, as she was fond of declaring herself. Kitty, now dressed in gauzy white, a sash of many colours round her slender waist, came slowly across the green lawn to meet Rupert. Her hair, always very curly and full of innumerable waves, was untidily put up. This might have been one of her defects. Rupert considered it one of her chanms. She seldom appeared anywhere without stray locks falling over her shoulders and tumbling over her beautiful, broad, low. white forehead. She was a most stately, lovely creature, with- out a scrap of vanity about her. There was a purposeful expression in her eyes, as though she were always looking at a future which meant so much that she had no time for the frivolities of life. The other Pembridges did not share Kitty's look of expectancy or desire. She seldom or never spoke of her feelings, and neither did her father. They were absolutely, in them- selves, tho most taciturn people the Lums- dales had ever met. But Rupert saw no flaw in beautiful Kitty, and he now hurried quickly to meet her. "Have I kept yon waiting?" he asked. "Did you expect me?" "Yes. and no. Mr. Lumsdale," she replied. "The girls and I were going to walk across to inquire for Helen. We have news for Helen- such news!" "Then I will accompany you. There is plenty of time. They will be delighted to see you a.t the Pines. The evening is quite early still. We might get up a dance." "Oh. not to-night," said Kitty. She looked gravely at him, her blue eyes darkening in a marvellous manner, which was one of her great charms. Rupert felt his heart beating. If only he might say to her there and then— "I love you with all the loye of my heart. TIe mine. I YOW I can make yon happy. Trust me. Make me, in return, the happiest of men." Tho words, legible enough in his eyes, did not pass his lips. Kitty looked at him, sighed very faintly, and said: "And how is Helen?" "To all appearance well," replied Rupert. "I oannot understand her case. Sometimes I think that she must be very ill. that she will never have a moment of real health again, and then once more there is such a sparkle iu her eyes. such animation in her whole manner, that I fail to believe in her illness." Kitty looked at him gravely. "Thero are some women set apart," she said. "for a very noble and special work. When that is the case, the path on which their feet must tread leads to strange issues." "What do yon mean? How queerly you talk!" "Don't question me about what I m2an. I have something- to tell you. A great, very special friend of Helen's is coming here this evening. He is Professor Kristofski." Rupert's eyes flashed indignantly. You cannot expect any of us Lumsdales to have a high opinion of Professor Kristofski. Remember what Helen was when she went to him. Remember what, she is now." "He is my friend," &air! Kitty. She coloured vividly, then. drawing herself up, she looked full into Rupert's face. "Mr. Lumadale?" she said. "Yes, Miss Pembridge." "I think I may say. without being conceited and without prejudice, that you are also my friend, and I am yours." "Oh^ indeed, if I could only think the latter," said the young man tremulously. "We will suppose that it is so," was her remark. "Now I want to test your friend- ship." It was almost at the moment when Helen was asking Delafield for a test of his friend- ship that Kitty made the same remark. "I want a test of your friendship," she repeated. "I want to know if you will help me." "In what way?" "To overcome the prejudice which your family entertain to my friend, Professor Kristofski. He is coming to see me and the others. He will stay with us for, perhaps, a week, perhaps a fortnight, until, in short, his mission is accomplished." "And what is his mission?" asked Rupert. "If I tell you, will yon betray me?" "You may trust me," he answered proudly. She came close to him, and dropped her wice. "He wants to take Helen ba.ck with him to Petersburg. He wants her to go willingly. He wants her family not to oppose her. You can, if you will, help mightily in that. Will you?" "But why should I?" said Rupert. "My sister left here in perfect health, possessing most joyous youth. She has come back a broken-down woman, paralysed, unable to move." Kitty turned aside. It seemed to Rupert that she smiled. Much as he loved her, that peculiar expression on her face half maddened him. "Do you doubt me? Do you, an English- woman, feel no pity for your sister-woman, whose youth and life may be destroyed for ever?" "I do not agree with you. Helen has a magnificent career before her. Soon, very soon, if she does what is required, she will get back her youth and health, and a life of radiant pleasure will open out to her." "But can I help in this matter?" "You undoubtedly can." "Kitty," said the young man, after a pause, "if I do this thing, as it were, against my conscience——" "Yes," she interrupted, looking at him interrogatively. "Against my conscience," he repeated, "am I to have a. price-a reward? You know what I mean." She just touched his arm with her hand. "I will be outspoken," she said. "There are times when it is prudish to remain silent. This is one. I have known for a long time that your feelings for me She broke off abruptly. "Need I say more?" "You need not," answered the young man with passion. He trembled. "I came to speak to you," he said impulsively. "Don't speak to-night, dear friend. I can't make «.ny definite promise, but after Helen goes to Petersburg She turned very white, so white that she staggered; then she seemed to recover her- self. "Yes, speak to me then, if yon wish. Do you understand?" "But dare I hope? If I come to you and tell you all that is in my heart when Helen has gono to Petfraburg. will you?" He took her hand, and before she could pre- vent it pressed it to his lips. She turned aside. Her very silence was full of eloquence. "Your word is law, my lady," he murmured in a very low voice "Where are you, Kitty?" called Ernestine, in her light tones. "We are all three off to the Pines. Won't yoa como with us? We want to tell Helen that Professor Kristofski will arrive to-night." "Oh, yes, I will come," said the girl. "Rupert, you will be our cavalier, won't you?" "With pleasure," bo replied. The walk to the Pines was taken in silence as far a<3 Kitty and Rupert were concerned, but the other girls chatted unceasingly. They found Helen still lying on her sofa under the shade of the lime tree. Delafield was standing by her side. When Rupert came up Delafield gave him an eager, questioning glance. The light on SRupert's fa.e seemed to him to prognosticate that Kitty bad acoepted him. Delafield's eyes rested on the girl with curiosity. His first, impression was that, from being beautiful, she was almost plain. But, then, something a.bout her arrested his attention, and the next minute he was moved to admiration. Kitty was not plain. but beautiful. It was not the beauty of either figure or complexion. It was not the beauty of feature or dark eyes or rosy lips. It. was the beauty which lies alone in expression. There was strength in tha.t clear glanoe, courage on those lips, resolution all over the young girl's attitude. Beside her even Helen, strong enough in herself, looked weak «.cd purposeless. Kitty bent and talked to Helen, who looked up at her with a kindling face and glowing eyes. "Oh, yes. On, delightful!" Delafield hea.rd her say these words, then Rupert drew him aside. "A most amazing thing has happened," he said. "Then you are really engaged to Miss Pem. bridge?" "No. I have not even proposed." "What do you mean?" "Although I have not proposed, she has virtually told me that 800 will be mine at a price." "A price?" eaid Delafield in some consterna- tion. "Ye3. I mean to tell you what it is." Rupert laid his hand on Delafield's arm. The young men walked slowly under the trees which formed the chief attraction of the beautiful place. "I believe," said Rupert, very slowly—"of course, I tell you this in confidence—that Kitty will be mine if I can induce Helen to return to Petersburg with Professor Kristof- ski." "What in the world do you mean?" said Delaneld. his eyes flashing with anger. "Just what I say. Kitty demands a price. She will give herself to me for the price I have mentioned." "She will give herself to you, and you will take her, at the riek of Helen's life—Helen, your sister!" "Noneenea, Delafield. There is no talk of Helen's life being in danger. She wants to go to Petersburg. Kristofski wants her to return, Kitty wishes her to go. This is not a question of life or death." "Pardon me," replied Delafield. "I consider return, Kitty wishes her to go. This is not a question of life or death." "Pardon me," replied Delafield. "I consider it very much a question of life and death, a;nd I, for my part, will certainly not aid you. I believe I have some influence with Helen He coloured as he spoke. "I shall certainly ¡ use it. and against your wishes. Her life was in danger during a former visit to Russia; she must not return." "But she wishes to," eaid Rupert, irritably. j "Ever since she has come back she has been saying so." "How can a. paralysed girl attempt euch a journey?" "Oh, there are ways and means, a.nd, pardon me, Delafield, I don't think you know my sister as I know her. What she wished for in the past she has done. I believe she will con- tinue to oarry out her own desires in the future. Her malady won't be a real obstacle. I She denies, remember, that Kristofski has j anything to do with her present state of I health. adores professor, and, as to hi3 daughter, she has the most tender regard for her. Anyhow, I have promised Kitty to help her, and I will." I "And I have promised to help Helen, and I shall help her in the way most conducive to her welfare; so now you understand." "Then we are pitted against each other?" "It looks like it, doesn't it?" Delafield stepped away a. pace or two, and, turning, faced his cousin. Both young men were in the prime of their first youth, both were good-looking, both determined. They had no idea of quarrelling, but they each ¡' realised that they had taken up a different position, and that Helen was the causa celebre which animated them both. The gay voices of the young LumsdaJes and of Connie, Sybil, and Ernestine Pembridge Bounded in their ears. Anne Lumsdale called out that they were going to dance in the hall. Delafield turned aside. "Go to them," he said to his cousin: "I can't at present. I have too much to think ¡ about." Rupert left him with -a nod. Delafield now took a circuitous path that led to a lonely pie-ce of moorland. The sun had set, and the moon was shining in silver radiance over graes. trees, and shrubs. The young man suddenly fell on his face. Ho was trembling, his mental balance was u]""et. His thoughts were all of Helen. Yes. he had found out his own heart, and he hoped he had found hers. He would win her; yes, at any cost, at any sacrifice. He would help her through any danger; he would be her knight to the end of the world. CHAPTER Ill. It was quite true that Helen Lumsdale was of age, and was also her own mistress. She had a considerable fortune, amounting to nearly a thousand a year in her own right. She was, therefore, an independent woman. Her nature was so amiable, and she had been brought up to love her parents so tenderly, that under ordinary circumstances nothing could hsve induced her to go against their wishes. Nevertheless, Delafield, who had read her heart, as he thought, aright, felt that something had come to her which would make her even oppose her parents if neces- sary. In the first instance, her visit to Petersburg had been arranged against \heir desire. For so rich a girl, a girl so absolutely indepen- dent, so young, so beautiful, to choose to go as companion to the daughter of a learned professor in Petersburg was in itself incom- prehensible. Helen had never thought of Petersburg, nor of Ratsia in particular, until she had made the acquaintance of Kitty Pem- bridge. These two girls had been friends and comrades from the first. They had a great deal to say to each other, and were often together. Soon there were confidences, letters passed between them. It was Helen's delight to go and see Kitty, and it seemed to be equally Kitty's delight to visit Helen. Then the Russian professor, an old friend of the Pembridges, appeared on the scene. He met Helen, and soon in the most extraordi- nary way this radiant young creature seemed to be subjected to his will. He talked to her, and her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed with colour, her impressionable heart WaB roused. He went away after a brief space, and then came his letter of invitation, an invitation which those who read it construed more I readily into a command. Helen must spend a winter in the gayest capital of Europe. She must talk French with the servants of the Court. She must go here, j there, and everywhere. must help the professor to introduce beautiful yoving Olga into Russian society. She woud be paid, of I course; that went without saying. Helen neither refused the pay nor the invi- tation. She went. and during her absence she wrote once or twice to Kitty Pembridge. and onoe or twice to her parents. Her letters were full of enthusiasm and rapture. Than she came home an invalid: changed, indeed, was the brilliant girl. Pallid was the blooming cheek, and tired the full dark eyes. Then there came her sudden paralysis, followed by the dismay and terror of her family. But Helen continued her friendship for Kitty, and her desire to return to Petersburg became almost a passion. Delafield thought of all these things as he wandered on the moors that night. When he returned to the house, the lights were all out; the family had evidently retired. It seemed that he was forgotten. But no. His cousin Rupert, a shadowy figure in the now expiring moonlight, came to meet him. "I was waiting up for you, old man. What a time you have been by yourself! Is any- thing wrong?" "Nothing," answered Delafield. "I was tempted by the balmy air and the summer night." "And you wanted to think out something?" "Yes, that's a-bout it, Rupert." Rupert was silent for a minute. "We may as well go to bed now," he said, abruptly. "Certainly." "Will you have a smoke?" "No, thanks." "Then I will you to your room." They went upstairs by the back way. The room apportioned to Delafield was at the end of a. corridor on the second storey. It was a spacious room, with a wide bay window, through which the moonlight entered tn long, slanting beams. "I won't light my candle," he said. "The night will soon be over, and the moonlight is beautiful." 'The moon will set in half an hour," eaid Rupert. "Well, good-night." 1 The cousins parted. Delafield seated him- self on the wide window ledge, a.nd looked out into the garden. Yes, dawn would soon arrive, but he was not sleepy. He felt I strangely wide-awake and terribly restless. He felt that trouble was near, that the trouble touched Helen, and, through Helen, himself. He was oppressed by a sense of mystery now. Then he laughed at hia own sensations. What possible mystery, what possible evil could touch a happy English girl in an English home? Nevertheless, the sen- sation that it did exist was very present with him. He put out his head, and looked eagerly He put out his head, and looked eagerly across the lawn. He saw, or fancied he saw, I a shadow move faintly under one of the trees. The next moment, with a gasp and a smothered exclamation, he put in his head again, and remained absolutely still, for gliding across the grass, moving with perfect ease, as a girl will walk in absolute health, he saw his cousin Helen. With grace and pre- cision, she went slowly forward. Presently she reached the tree under which she had lain for so many hours that afternoon. She thrust her hand into the bosom of her dress, took out a letter, and began to read it. Afterwards she paced up and down in the lime-bordered footpath. Her dress was white, and Delafield saw it flash at intervals; he also heard the crunching sound made by her footfall on the gravel. She walked rapidly, as one in sore need of exercise. By-and-bye the moon set, and the filmy, pearly grey of dawn began to tremble in the air. Delafield could watch her without being seen himself. It was morning before Helen re-entered the house. Then Delafield flung off some of his clothes, and threw himself across his bed. "What does this mean?" he thought. "What is Helen doing? What strange part is she acting? She ie no more paralysed than I am." Between ten and eleven on the following day Kitty Pembridge appeared, accompanied by Professor Kristofski. The night before Delafield had intended to go up to town, but he changed his plans on the following morn- ing. He told the Lumsdalee that he would like to spend a quiet day in their luxurious place. The girls were pleased, only Helen frowned faintly. "I will come and sit with you under the tree, cousin," he said, addressing her personally, "and read to you, anything you like." "I shall be busy," she answered. "I expect Miss Pembridge and Professor Kristofski this morning." "After they go, then," he answered. He gavo her a keen glance, and she coloured quite perceptibly. "I was up late last night," he said. "Very late. When I went to my room I eat by the window. It faces this lawn and the tree under which you are now lying, Helen. I 6at there and thought of you." The colour in her face had now given place to a dreadful pallor. She gasped, as it were, for breath; then, controlling herself, said smilingly: "At such times one is apt to see ghosts. I I trust no visitants from the other world troubled you, Maurice?" He did not reply, except with his eyes, which seemed to say very plainly: "I know at least part of your secret, and I mean to discover the rest." She was about to speak, when Kitty and the professor, who had been talking to Mrs. Lums- dale within the house, now approached. "I will come back afterwards," he 'said. He seated himself under a tree, took up the "Times," lit a cigar, and tried to enjoy him- self. Hannah Rawlinscm, a cross-grained, dis- agreeable woman, who acted as Helen's nurse, passed him, and gave him an unfriendly glance. She carried shawls and cushions, a.nd busied herself for a time over her young mis- tress. As she bent over her, Helen evidently said something in her ear, for a minute or two later, to the young man's amazement, Hannah approached where he was sitting. "I should like to tell you, sir," she said, "that agitation of any kind is exceedingly bad for my patient. She is far more ill than you have the least idoa of, and her malady is of a nature which must not be spoken of." "What do yon mean?" he asked in astonish- ment. She laid her fingers to her lips, and then significantly tapped her forehead. The next instant she had left him. "Disgraceful! horrible!" thought Delafield. "She insinuates that Helen with the calmest] and clearest brain in the world, is insane That I do not, and will not, believe." He bent forward a little as the thought rushed through his mind. Helen, looking calm as calm could be, and mere beautiful than ever ho8 had seen her, was discoursing with th", professor. Kristofski was a distinguished-looking man, with a long brown beard, and soft hair of the same colour swept a.way from a lofty fore- head. His eyes were clear and of a bright brown. His features were acquiline, his figure upright and graceful. He wore a ring with one single diamond on the small finger of hia left hand. The diamond flashed when be mow-d. Kitty, who had accompanied Professor Kristofski to Helen's sofa, now nodded to the two, and came slowly over in Delafield's direction. "How do you do?" she said. "I am so glad you are here. What a lovely morning!" "It is," he replied, rising and offering hen his Boat. She sank into it at once. "I must introduce you to our dear pro- fessor," she said. "I consider that you will bo much honoured by the chance of hia acquaintanceship. He is the most wonderful man in Europe." "What is his speciality?" asked Delafield. "He belongs to the medical profession." "Ah, a Russian physician. When the Russians diagnose, they diagnose well." "He does. emphatically," replied Kitty. "He has genius enough for anything." "Have you known him long, Miss Fem- bridge?" "Yes," she answered, a little evasively; "since my childhood. But, by the way, when are you coming to see us at Mount Edge, Mr. Delafield?" "Whenever you are good enough to ask me. Miss Pembridge." "Come to-night, won't you?" "Thanks. I accept with pleasure." "Anno and Marjory are coming. Rupert won't be home; so will you chaperone your cousins?" "With pleasure." He moved a, little impatiently. Kitty gave him a lazy glance. "You can fetch another chair, if you like," she said, "and sit near me. Professor Kristof- ski has a, great deal to say to Helen, and I am waiting to escort him home for lunch. By the way, what do you think of Helen? Do you believe that she is seriously ill?" "Her nerves are out of order." "Oh. yes." said Kitty, with a laugh. "That is what all doctors say at the present time. We all suffer from nerves of sorts; but her paralysis is particularly sad, poor darling." Delafield was silent. "She feels it dreadfully," continued Kitty, "for by nature she is so active." Still Delafield did not speak. "You have great influence over her, Mr. Delafield," said Kitty then. "I have known her for a long time. W. have been friends from childhood." "Then what do you think of her case now? Do you believe her to be seriously ill? I want you to tell me." "I can't tell you until I know more about her symptoms and her recent life. She haa evidently been subjected to a very severe shock, probably while she was in Russia. That is the inference likely to be arrived at, seeing that she was quite well when she went, and ill when she returned." "Yes, it would not require a genius to come to that conclusion," said Kitty in a careless tone. "Nevertheless, it is a wrong conclusion, Mr. Delafield. I say this emphatically and with knowledge." Delafield's eyes sparkled. He wondered what answer Kitty would make him were he to tell her what he saw with his own eyes during the night that had just gone by. Kitty was silent for a minute, then she rose. "I should awfully like you to help me," she said suddenly. "There is something very grave that Helen and I—yes, Helen and I— have got to do. We do not shrink—oh, not for a moment; but we want the help of our friends, not the hindrance. We claim the sympathy of the young, the enthusiastic. We will leave out those who are old, those who cannot understand what it is incumbent on us to perform. Will you, or will you not help us?" "Do you ask me to make you a promise?" "I should like it beyond words. You are no ordinary man. I have spoken to my dear professor about you, and he agrees with me. I would like you to make me a promise in the dark." Kitty gave a nervous laugh.. "That is about all," she said. (To be continued.)