It is rarely that a young girl who is possessed of genuine tenderness of feeling for a young and handsome man, remains an indifferent listener to his ardent expressions of passionate devotion. Helen Grahame was not less susceptible in this particular than the weakest of her sex. She bent over Hugh, parted with her soft white hand his rich glossy hair from his forehead, and pressed it with her ruby lips. “Rise, Hugh, rise,” she said, fondly and earnestly, “I entreat you. Pray, be more calm. Elevate yourself above this morbid feeling of unhappiness, and let me hear what you have to communicate to me, for indeed I must almost instantly return to the house. I am expected in the drawing-room, and, if missed, a messenger will be sent in search of me. I would not for worlds be discovered here.” “Helen dearest.” he exclaimed with a quivering lip as he rose to his feet and once more twined his arms about her graceful form, “I leave London to-morrow--I know not yet at what hour--for Southampton; if that were to be the limit of my journey I should not be thus depressed, but from a confidential source I have received the hint that I shall be called upon to proceed by the overland route, to India--to the city of Agra. I believe this is decided; our separation cannot, therefore, be less than for six months; it may be for years--it is this thought which wounds me so deeply, for what may not happen in my absence? What indeed!” He paused for a moment, overpowered by a throng of painful anticipations. Helen remained perfectly silent; and clearing his voice he went on. “I cannot ask you not to forget me,” he said. “I know that would be impossible, but--but I would ask you, Helen--I would ask you, when I am gone far, far hence, to remember what we have been to each other, and to continue to me as, I vow to Heaven I will ever to you remain--true, loving, and faithful.” “Hark” cried Helen, starting suddenly, “a footstep approaches--I must fly. Farewell, Hugh! God bless you, and guard you until we meet again!” She threw herself into his arms. He strained her passionately to his breast, and imprinted a thousand fervid kisses on her lips. “And you will be true to me, Helen?” he whispered. “I will, Hugh, I will,” she replied with an earnestness rivalling his own. “You swear it, dear Helen.” “I do! I do!” One more passionate embrace, many murmured but heart-spoken farewells, a long--long kiss, then she broke hastily from his arms, darted swiftly into the deep shadows of the over-arching trees, flitted like a phantom over the grassy lawn, and disappeared. With a melancholy gaze he caught the last wave of her white garments, as they vanished in the distance and in the darkness, and then, with a deep sigh, he proceeded slowly to quit the spot. Ere he had proceeded a dozen yards, a hand was placed somewhat vigorously upon his shoulder. He turned quickly: the figure of a man was before him, but in the darkness he could distinguish nothing further.