"To-day H. R. was on deck for several hours, conversing sweetly and
looking like the angel she is. But happiness soon flies from me; a
steamer came in sight, bound for Sydney. She signaled us to heave to, and
send a boat. This was done, and the boat brought back a letter for her.
It seems they took us for the _Shannon,_ in which ship she was expected.

"The letter was from _him._ How her cheek flushed and her eye beamed as
she took it! And, oh, the sadness, the agony, that stood beside her
unheeded.

"I left the deck; I could not have contained myself. What a thing is
wealth! By wealth, that wretch can stretch out his hand across the ocean,
and put a letter into her hand under my very eye. Away goes all that I
have gained by being near her while he is far away. He is not in England
now--he is here. His odious presence has driven me from her. Oh, that I
could be a child again, or in my grave, to get away from this Hell of
Love and Hate."


At this point, we beg leave to take the narrative into our own hands
again.

Mr. Hazel actually left the deck to avoid the sight of Helen Rolleston's
flushed cheek and beaming eyes, reading Arthur Wardlaw's letter.

And here we may as well observe that he retired not merely because the
torture was hard to bear. He had some disclosures to make, on reaching
England; but his good sense told him this was not the time or the place
to make them, nor Helen Rolleston the person to whom, in the first
instance, they ought to be made.