No comfort that love could devise or that money could purchase was lacking to ease the colonel's sufferings. His nurses were the most skilful that could be procured, and his wife was scarcely ever absent from his side, and always eager to anticipate his wishes--all his wishes, indeed, with one exception. Often in his hours of unconsciousness Helen's name would pass his lips; often when he lay conscious, but too weak to speak, his eyes would wander round the room wistfully as if in search of something. But if Mrs. Desmond understood his meaning she made no sign of doing so, and Helen's aching heart was left without even such consolation as she might have derived from this knowledge. Poor Helen! she had a hard time to go through. Her daily routine was in no way altered because of this awful sorrow that was hanging over her. Mrs. Desmond, who had not spoken to her stepdaughter since the day of the colonel's seizure, had sent the girl a message to say that lessons and the ordinary school-room routine were to go on as usual. If Helen desired to testify her sorrow for her part in this terrible affair, her only possible means of doing so was by the most absolute obedience. The last part of this message might have been enigmatical to Helen had she sat down to think it over. As a matter of fact she did not. She only realized that these days of sorrow and anxiety were to be lightened by no happiness of service rendered, that submission to the daily round of irksome lessons was the only token she could give of her longing desire to help her father. Helen did not submit to this at once. With passionate words of entreaty on her lips she went to seek her stepmother. Mrs. Desmond was resting; but something in her maid's manner warned Helen that entreaty would be useless. After this the girl had a hard battle with herself. First she determined to rebel, to force her way into her father's room and refuse to leave his side. She even remained for a few minutes outside his door, watching for an opportunity to enter. It opened and some one came out. Helen pressed forward, but the sound of a low moan arrested her step. That sound touched her generous heart and changed the current of her thoughts. Her father was ill and suffering, and to witness a scene between herself and his wife would distress him, would be bad for him. The very idea made Helen ashamed of herself. She turned resolutely away, her mind made up. She would obey. It was all she could do for him. Like a little heroine this girl kept the pledge she had made to herself. During the long, weary days that followed not one word of repining escaped her lips. Even Miss Walker could find nothing to complain of when the imperfect lessons were relearned so patiently, and the pale face, with its large anxious eyes, fixed itself so intently upon the allotted tasks. It was only at night, when everyone excepting those who watched in the sick-room was in