“In the time to come--when we shall part for ever--what difference of station should part us? Oh, Mr. Vivian, I could not--I would not, accept a position which might bring such an estrangement to pass. I would sooner die--I owe--my life--to your bravery.” She seized his hand and kissed it, and then burst into tears. Hal was almost in the act of placing his arm about her, and giving vent to a passionate declaration, when a hand was placed upon his shoulder. He turned round with a sudden start, which almost upset the individual who had touched him. He found it to be Nathan Gomer, who grinned, and, pointing with his thumb behind him, said to Flora-- “Your father awaits you both in his room. He is about to quit the prison with you, but he wishes to say a few words to you before he departs.” “But the two thousand pounds for which he is lodged here?” said Hal, with a stupified air. “Paid, sir--all paid, sir! Mr. Wilton is free to leave here when he will, sir!” exclaimed Nathan Gomer, with the old grin upon his features. CHAPTER XI.--SHADOWS. Oh, love! of whom great Caesar was the suitor, Titus the master, Antony the slave, Horace, Catullus, scholars, Ovid tutor, Sappho, the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave All those may leap who rather would be neuter-- (Leucadia’s rock still overlooks the wave), Oh, love! thou art the very god of evil, For, after all, we cannot call thee devil. --Byron. Helen Grahame sat in her dressing-room alone. Scarce half-an-hour had elapsed since she had quitted the side of Lester Vane, after their stroll in the garden. Her handkerchief, which she had dropped during her interview with Hugh Riversdale in the thicket, yet glared before her eyes as it had done when presented by him who, with a sharp, penetrating gaze, had sought to extract evidence out of her confusion to assure him that she was the heroine of the stolen interview he had disturbed. She yet saw it floating and whirling among the circling eddies of the meandering waters, which ran past her feet, and drew such small consolation from the possibility of its never being again recovered--at least to her disadvantage--as it might afford her. It was something to have destroyed the only evidence that could identify her with that stolen meeting, which had been the cause of so much mystification, excitement, and scandal among the household. She could scarcely prevent a proud smile of triumph curling her small upper lip when she reflected that the mastery she possessed over the play of her features, when she brought her will into action, had enabled her to baffle the scrutiny of Vane, which she felt instinctively was exerted to enable him to obtain power over her. Her womanly instincts were too acute, too keen, for her not to comprehend that.