Helen would have cast herself at his feet and told him all, but she feared he would spurn her—­she longed to deserve the love of his manly and honest heart, but too weak, too much a coward, she shrunk from the agony and peril of a confession of her guilt.  And Jerrold! was he not mad to expect to find a true and loving spouse in one who had cast off her allegiance to God?

“You are mistaken, Walter.  Really, you have made quite a scene!  I fear that you are romantic!  For, really except when my nervous moods come over me, I am not aware that there is any thing unusual in my conduct.  I am excessively nervous and excitable.  I was dancing all night.  I went with your mother to Mrs. Woodland’s ball, which was a most brilliant affair.  It was after two o’clock when I came home.  You may be sure I was tired.  Then I concluded to give you a little surprise by waiting up for you; and, as I looked very haggard, took out that precious cosmetic to tint my cheeks—­all, dear Walter, to welcome you; but I was too much fagged, and went off into a sound, vulgar sleep!” said Helen, going to her toilette-table to adjust her hair, while she laughed as if the whole thing had been an amusing adventure.  “It will learn you to run off again,” she continued.

“Well, well—­perhaps I am exacting; but understand one thing, Helle, about me,” said Walter Jerrold, gravely, “I can bear with, and forgive errors—­but deception, never.”

“Walter!” said Helen, reproachfully, while tears suffused her fine eyes.

“Forgive me, Helle, if my words grate on your feelings.  It is best for married folk to understand each other’s peculiarities as early as possible.  Shall I ring for Elise, for you are tangling and tearing your hair to pieces?”

“If you please.  I will soon join you, if you will tell me where to find you,” she replied, with assumed composure.

“At the breakfast table, I trust,” he said, pleasantly; “I am thirsting for a cup of mocha, after my long journey.”

“I suspect you will find it ready.  I ordered them to have it ready early;—­but see, Walter! have you any special engagement this forenoon?”

“Nothing very particular after ten, Helen.  Why?”

“Why, you know that Matinees are all the rage now.  I hold my first one to-day.—­All the world have promised to come!”

“You don’t want me, then?” he said, laughing.

“Of course I do.  It will look proper for you to be present at the first.  People can’t be ill-natured then.  I’ve heard a great many queer stories about the Matinees.”

“It is well to be prudent in these fashionable follies, Helle—­touch some of them with gloves on.  I do not like this new style of thing, but if it’s the fashion, we must fall in.  I’ll come, provided there is no scandal and high play,” he said, laughing.