And, to tell the truth, she had cause to tremble; for that tongue of hers
had launched two wild beasts--Jealousy and Revenge.

When she got better she went home, and, coward-like, said not a word to
living soul.

That day, Arthur Wardlaw dined with General Rolleston and Helen. They
were to be alone for a certain reason; and he came half an hour before
dinner. Helen thought he would, and was ready for him on the lawn.

They walked arm-in-arm, talking of the happiness before them, and
regretting a temporary separation that was to intervene. He was her
father's choice, and she loved her father devotedly; he was her male
property; and young ladies like that sort of property, especially when
they see nothing to dislike in it. He loved her passionately, and that
was her due, and pleased her and drew a gentle affection, if not a
passion, from her in return. Yes, that lovely forehead did come very near
young Wardlaw's shoulder more than once or twice as they strolled slowly
up and down on the soft mossy turf.

And, on the other side of the hedge that bounded the lawn, a man lay
crouched in the ditch and saw it all with gleaming eyes.

Just before the affianced ones went in, Helen said, "I have a little
favor to ask you, dear. The poor man, Seaton, who fought the robbers and
was wounded--papa says he is a man of education, and wanted to be a clerk
or something. _Could_ you find him a place?"

"I think I can," said Wardlaw; "indeed, I am sure. A line to White & Co.