BARREN HONOUR



character, guessed at what a fearful cost
the improvement had been made.
  It seemed as if poor Helen had felt
for some time before her death that the
end was fast approaching. They found
not only her will, which had been exe-
cuted when she was last in London, but
divers letters, not to be delivered till
after her decease. There was a verv
large legacy to Grace Beauclere, and
some minor ones to old servants and
pensioners.  All the residue of the vast
sum at her disposal was bequeathed to
her father, without condition or reserve.
Her jewels-with the exception of
Lord Clydesdale's gifts before and after
marriage, which reverted to him-were
left to to Mrs. Brabazon. There was no
letter for Wyverne, and no mention of
his name; but Maud sent him a casket,
which had been in her hands for some
time past. It contained three of Alan's
letters, a few trifling relies of their brief
engagement, a thick packet in Helen's
handwriting, bearing a comparatively
recent date, and a small exquisite
miniature, taken before her beauty had
begun to fade. That casket was the
crowvning jewel of the testament.
  The void that her death made in so-
ciety was not easily filled up; but after
awhile the world rolled on, as if she
had never been.  The Squire looked
broken and grey, and more careworn
than when his affairs had been most
desperate.  He knew   scarcely any-
thing of the terrible truth, but a vague
remorse haunted and bore him down.
Lady Mildred's face was inscrutable as
ever, but her smiles grew rarer and
more artificial day by day. Max Vava-
sour, after the first emotion of sorrow,
troubled himself little about what was
past and gone. If he ever realized his
sister's sacrifice, he looked upon it as a
great political necessity-to, be de-
plored, but not to be repented of. Maud
Brabazon felt as if she could never
bring herself to wear the jewels that
she inherited; but she got over these
scruples in time; and, at the first
drawing-room of the following season,
her sapphires and diamonds were gen-
earllv envied and admired.
  When I said that in Alan Wyverne



there was litle outward alteration, I
ought to have limited the assertion.
Men would have told you so; but
maids and matrons are sharper-sighted,
and their report would have been very
different: they knew how utterly he
was changed. Their society still had
an attraction for him; and he was
frank, and kind, and gentle as ever,
when a woman was in presence; but a
word never escaped his lips that could
be construed into anything warmer
than friendship and courtesy.   The
most intrepid coquette refrained in-
stinctively from wasting her calineries
and seductions there: she might as
well have sought a lover in a deserted
statue-gallery of the Vatican.
  How Alan fared when he was quite
alone it would be hard to say. Such
seasons were rare, except at the dead
hours of night, when sleep comes nat-
mirally to every constitution, unless
some powerfil momentary excitement
is at work; for he mixed more in gen-
eral society than he had done for years.
I doubt if he did not suffer less acutely
than when Helen was alive, and in her
husband's power. He was at least free
from the torments of anxiety and ap-
prehension. If in this world of ours
we can defy these two enemies of man's
peace, we have gained no mean victory
over Fate.



         CHAPTER XXVII.

         MORITURI TE 5ALUTAXT.

   IT is a clear breezy night, out in the
midst of the Atlantic, the mighty
steam-ship Panama ploughs her way
through the long, sullen " rollers,"
steadily, and calmly, strongly, as if
conscious of her trust, and of her abili-
ty to discharge it-the safe carriage of
three hundred lives. A few wakeful
passengers still linger on deck; amongst
them is Alan Wyverne; the restless
demon, ever at his elbow, has driven
him abroad again, to see what sport
may be found on the great Western
prairies.



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