“It cannot, must not, shall not be,” she moaned, wringing her hands while she spoke. “No; I will fly to Mr. Wilton. Lotte has spoken of his tenderness of heart. I will appeal to him, on my knees, to save my father; he will not resist my tears, my prayers. Yes, yes, I will go to him--but for this marriage, ugh!” She shuddered violently--“No, death--death rather than that.” She tottered to the door and turned the handle, but it was fast. She pressed against it, but it would not yield. She made to the window. She remembered the iron staircase which led into the garden. The window was unfastened, but she, alas, was in full dress. She cast her eyes to the door wistfully, and thought she perceived the handle move; she hurried to it, and, kneeling down, tried to peer through the keyhole. She heard a soft, low voice breathe her name, and she knew who was without watching for her. She whispered in a low voice-- “Eva, darling Eva, not a moment is to be lost; hasten with my bonnet and my mantle to the slope beneath the library window.” “Helen, dearest,” murmured the soft, low voice, “oh, you will not leave us again?” “Sweet sister Eva, if you love me, do what I ask. I will be more explicit when we are together below,” she urged, almost frantically. “If you love me, Eva--oh, if you love me, sweet Eva.” “I will do what you wish, dear Helen,” replied her sister, softly. “I will be down on the slope within a few minutes.” To Helen the very mention of such a time seemed an age. She tied her handkerchief about her neck, and stole softly to the window, which had several times admitted Chewkle to her father’s presence secretly. She opened it gently and looked out. It seemed very dark, and she instinctively shuddered. She turned, and looked round the library hastily--all was perfectly silent; yet it seemed to her that the door would suddenly fly open, and her father, with angry aspect, appear and pursue her. She stepped upon the narrow iron staircase, and closed the window after her; then she swiftly and noiselessly descended the steps, and stood shivering upon the grass slope. She looked up at the house: lights blazed in all the windows; but in the garden, sombre darkness reigned. She listened intensely, for she fancied she heard a footfall upon the gravel path, but the sound was not repeated until she heard a light rustling noise; in another moment after this reached her ear she felt herself encircled in the arms of Evangeline, who had hastily thrown a large shawl over her head to protect herself from the cold. Helen took from her hand the garments for which she had asked, and hastily attired herself. “I dare not stay longer with you, my own darling Eva,” she whispered to her; “I have escaped, as you see now, from the library, in which papa had locked.” “But why, Helen?” asked Evangeline.