"I have a favor to ask, May, which you cannot refuse!" said Helen, with
a degree of timidity unusual to her; "will you grant it?"

"I hope so, Helen. What is it?"

"There is a picture in our room--a valuable old painting of the _Mater
Dolorosa_. I always fancied there was a look of my mother,
particularly about the eyes, in the countenance. I should like to have
it copied by some first-rate artist to hang up in my chamber."

"Certainly, dear Helen. I would offer you the picture as a keep-sake,
only it was highly prized by my father; and there are so many
associations connected with it, which makes it very precious to me.
Whenever you wish it, let me know, and I will go with it myself to the
artist."

The next day they parted. Helen, arrayed in costly silks, laces, and
jewelry, went forth a bride, and pronounced irrevocable vows, which
made her the wife of a man, who, highly honorable in a worldly sense,
was the professed enemy of the creed she professed.




CHAPTER XVI.

THE DEATH DREAM.

While the splendid festivities which succeeded Helen's marriage