As time wore on, his father’s letters, commanding him to return, grew more and more peremptory, until at last he wrote, “I am sick—­dying—­and if you do not come, I’ll cast you off forever.”

Harry knew this was no unmeaning threat, and he now began to reap the fruit of his folly.  He could not give up Helena, who daily grew dearer to him, neither could he brave the displeasure of his father by acknowledging his marriage, for disinheritance was sure to follow.  In this dilemma he resolved to compromise the matter.  He would leave Helena awhile; he would visit his father, and if a favorable opportunity occurred, he would confess all; if not, he would return to his wife and do the best he could.  But she must be provided for during his absence, and to effect this, he wrote to his father, saying he stood greatly in need of five hundred dollars, and that immediately on its receipt he would start for home.  Inconsistent as it seemed with his general character, the elder Mr. Graham was generous with his money, lavishing upon his son all that he asked for, and the money was accordingly sent without a moment’s hesitation.

And now Harry’s besetting sin, secrecy, came again in action, and instead of manfully telling Helena the truth, he left her privately, stealing away at night, and quieting his conscience by promising himself to reveal all in a letter, which was actually written, but as at the time of its arrival Helena was at home, and the postmaster knew of no such person, it was at last sent to Washington with thousands of its companions.  The reader already knows how ’Lena’s young mother watched for her recreant husband’s coming until life and hope died out together, and it is only necessary to repeat that part of the story which relates to Harry, who on his return home found his father much worse than he expected.  At his bedside, ministering to his wants, was a young, dashing widow, who prided herself upon being Lady Bellmont.  On his death-bed her father had committed her to the guardianship of Mr. Graham, who, strictly honorable in all his dealings, had held his trust until the time of her marriage with a young Englishman.

Unfortunately, as it proved for Harry, and fortunately for Sir Arthur, who had nothing in common with his wife, the latter died within two years after his marriage, leaving his widow and infant son again to the care of Mr. Graham, with whom Lady Bellmont, as she was pleased to call herself, lived at intervals, swaying him whichever way she listed, and influencing him as he had never been influenced before.  The secret of this was, that the old man had his eye upon her vast possessions, which he destined for his son, who, ignorant of the honor intended him, had presumed to marry according to the promptings of his heart.

Scarcely was the first greeting over, ere his father at once made known his plans, to which Harry listened with mingled pain and amazement.  “Lucy—­Lady Bellmont!” said he, “why, she’s a mother—­a widow—­beside being ten years my senior.”