“Whew! whew!” exclaimed Mr. Fielding, waving his hat around his head; “Ne quid nimis!”

“Don’t abuse me, sir, in an unknown tongue,” said May, seriously.

“Child, do you expect to find so much excellence in one character on earth, as you desire?” said the old lawyer, putting his hat down.

“I fear not, sir:  but until I do, I shall remain single.”

“Well, you deserve to.  If any one ever deserved the fate of an old maid, you do.  But I want you to understand one thing.  I have not given up my point about that will.  According to your express commands, I have made no movement in the affair, but nem. con. I shall present the case at the present term of the Orphan’s Court as a fraud.  I have waited long enough for your prayers and novenas, or whatever it is you call them.  It is very clear to me that the powers on high do not intend to trouble themselves about courts and questions of equity, and all that.”

“You won’t dare to do so yet, sir.  I shall protest against it so far as I am concerned. I have faith in prayer, and shall wait,” exclaimed May.  “It is because every thing is draped in materialism that we do not receive more aid from the heavenly powers.”

The door opened suddenly, and Walter Jerrold came in, looking pale and haggard.  He grasped May’s hand, and bowed to Mr. Fielding, who, muttering and angry, made his exit.

“What is the matter, Mr. Jerrold?” inquired May, kindly.

“Helen seems ill, and I have brought the carriage for you, May.  She asks continually for you, and fears you will not come.”

“I will go with you instantly,” she said, and ran into her dressing closet to put on her hat and scarf.  “What ails Helen?”

“That is more than I can tell you.  She has feverish nights, and is silent and depressed.  We made up a party last week to go to the cathedral, during the ‘Mission,’ to hear a celebrated preacher.  Helen went very unwillingly, and since then she has been moping and starting, and altogether in a strange mood, for one who ought to be happy,” replied Mr. Jerrold, with a gloomy air.  By this time they had got down stairs, and May was seated in the splendid carriage, on her way to Upperton-square.

“Poor Helen!  I hope it may be in my power to save her.  What does her physician say?”

“That is the most singular part of the thing.  She positively refuses to see one.  Indeed, May, to be frank with you, I fear there is something dreadful preying on Helen’s mind.  She sees no company; and although she had prepared to go to Newport with my mother, she declined going:  in fact, it’s all a mist, and I am puzzled to death to find out the end of it.”

“Mr. Jerrold,” said straightforward May, “these are all the signs of a troubled conscience.  Did you know that Helen was once a Catholic, and in virtually abandoning her religion, she is only suffering the pangs of a soul which cannot be at rest in its apostasy?”