giver,--May thought not of herself, only so far as to vow her energies,
her labors, her life, to the good of those who, through her
heedlessness, had been injured. She was not clear that she did not
burn the will; she _thought_ she had not done so, but she would not,
for the world, have taken an oath to that effect. It is not to be
supposed, however, that so shrewd a man as Mr. Fielding, and a man so
experienced in all the devious and sinuous windings of the human heart
as Father Fabian, were without their suspicions, but the one through
policy, and the other through charity, forebore to express in words
what they were not prepared to prove by legal facts.

May kept her plans to herself, and in her matter-of-fact way set the
house in order, and arranged, day after day, every article in its
particular place; and was scrupulously exact that not a scrap of old
lumber, cracked china, broken spoons, or half-worn linen, should be
missing on the day of the sale. Helen, quite unconcerned about such
homely matters, dashed about in Mrs. Jerrold's carriage from morning
until night, making splendid purchases, and indulged in all those
expensive tastes which her natural love for the beautiful, and her
undisciplined will, made so necessary to her happiness. Happiness!
Could she in whose soul the poison of a hidden sin was already doing
its work of restless fever, and unceasing torture, be happy? Alas! no;
she _felt_ that hence forth she was to know not rest on
earth--_beyond_, she dared not look.

One evening--the eve of her bridal, she and May were together, once
more, in the antique parlor. Helen, flushed, and splendidly
beautiful;--May, calm, and pleasant, her cheeks and brow a little pale,
but very lovely from the inner light reflected on them.