“I knew it--but where? I cannot remember where.” “Yet I recollect your face well, and where I saw it.” “You?” “Yes. It was in the garden in the rear of Mr. Wilton’s mansion.” Lotte clasped her hands together. She remembered the _rencontre_ in the garden, the group, and, most of all, that proud young beauty, who stood among all, as it then seemed, the “Flower of the Flock.” And was the prostrate, agonized being before her that same haughty girl! She gazed on her intently. Alas! yes it was she! But what a wreck in a period so brief. She could scarcely credit the evidence of her senses, scarce believe that splendid loveliness such as she had seen admired could become so bruised and shattered as this which she now saw before her. She remained silent for a minute, steadfastly gazing upon her, and then she said-- “You then are--” She hesitated. The young lady compressed her hands together, as if with sudden agony, and in broken accents murmured-- “Helen Grahame!” There was again a silence, and then Lotte looked up wistfully in her face, and said-- “You must have suffered deeply, dreadfully; but pray believe the worst to be past. Look upon me as a trustful, loving, faithful attendant, in whom you may confide safely so much as you may see fit to reveal. I ask no more. I will preserve your secret faithfully, and do all, all that I can to bring to you peace and comfort.” Then Helen fell upon her neck, and wept a long, long passion of tears; and, when the fount was exhausted, she, in broken tones and disjointed words, and with sobs and groans, revealed all to Lotte--more, far more, than ever she had breathed to mortal before. Lotte listened with breathless attention, sometimes in astonishment, at others in fright, but when, half fainting, the worst part of the history was confessed by Helen, she pressed her to her bosom, and wept with her. A woman’s error out of a woman’s love, oh! it was not unpardonable, least of all in the eyes of a woman with a young and loving heart. It was far into the night before Helen laid her wearied frame down upon Lotte’s humble couch. The tender and compassionate girl made a pretence of arranging her little domestic matters, so that she did not retire with her, but busied herself about the room, until she perceived that, utterly worn out and exhausted, Helen had fallen into a slumber. Then she knelt down by the modest bedside, and, in humble intercession, prayed long and earnestly for her. Then, with calmer heart and quieter mind, she sate herself at the foot of the bed, and watched in silence the sad face of the pale and haggard sleeper. CHAPTER V.--THE GOLD AND THE ALLOY. Keep your eye on him, The man avoids me--knows that I now know him Watch him!--as you would watch the wild boar when He make against you in the hunter’s gap-- Like him he must be speared. *****