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 rose and leant against the chimney-piece with an air of painful abstraction.

"Dear Beaufort," said Helen, half smiling, "you do not imagine that Mary is thinking of your old quarrels, and has gone home to avoid you? I assure you that is not the case."

"Is not it?" he said, trying to return her smile; but he relapsed into his absent fit, and then, suddenly kissing his sister, said, "Good-night; you look very tired, and so am I. I hope Miss Forrester will come to breakfast."

"I suppose so," said Helen sleepily. "Good-night, dear. You are going to bed too?"

"Of course"; but when she had left the room, he drew the arm-chair to the fire, and, resting his feet on the fender, sank into deep and melancholy thought. He had met one or two people whom he knew slightly, who had either arrived by the last steamer themselves, or had seen friends who had. They all spoke of Lord Teviot's as a hopeless case. The agent at the office had mentioned that a packet might come in on the following day; it was waiting at Lisbon for a young lord who was very ill; but it was generally understood that he would not live to go on board. Lord Beaufort shuddered as he thought what the next morning might bring to Helen; he felt unequal to cope with her probable grief by himself; and ended by writing a note to Miss Forrester, telling her what he had heard, and imploring her to return as early as possible. He left this note with his servant, to be sent the first thing in the morning, and went to bed anxious, unhappy, and almost desponding.

The next morning Helen came down, looking more cheerful, though she suggested to her brother that she did not think the hotel would do for an invalid; that she had had a very noisy family lodged in the next room to hers; "and Teviot will perhaps be so weak that we may have