HELEN'S SECRET. A motherless girl of fifteen is the most utterly unprotected and desolate of God's creatures. Who should know that better than I, whose young life was wrecked for want of a mother's counsel when I needed it most? It may be I would have been headstrong and willful as other girls have been; it may be I would have taken my own way in spite of my mother's warning, and made her unhappy thereby; it may be I would have been just as selfish and unheeding and cruel to her as others I have seen; but, looking back upon that time, I only feel that my life might have been different if it had been guided into the proper channel by a mother's loving wisdom. But I was fatherless also, and was doubly deprived of that maturer knowledge and experience whereon I should have relied, and for lack of which I erred so fatally. I do not remember my father, who died when I was but a baby, and my memory retains only a faint and slowly fading portrait of her who was my mother. But those who knew her best trace some resemblance to her lineaments in myself, albeit I am smaller and slighter, and in the reproduction have failed to retain her beautiful brown eyes and golden hair, having instead eyes of questionable blue and hair as dark as evening's gloom. I was never remarkable for beauty, but at sixteen I possessed youth and health, the chiefest of attractions, and I was so light of heart that sometimes I recall those days with absolute pain, and wonder if the careless girl I remember could have grown to the woman I am. There are pleasanter-things in this world than living with relations, even when they are so nearly related as were mine, for I was brought up with the family of my father's sister. I was sent to school until I had attained a common, practical education, though I knew nothing of art or music, and but very little of books, for which I had a growing affection, secondary at that time, however, to many other matters of interest. I was not required to work, more than to do my share, which, in a household consisting of father, mother, and six children, besides myself, was not light. Neither was Aunt Janet shrewish, nor disagreeable, and I was not a Cinderella in any sense. She brought me up precisely as she would one of her own children, and saving the lack of an interest in me which led her to consult her own inclination rather than my welfare, I have no other than a feeling of regard for her; and I do not know, after all, but Aunt Janet would have done exactly the same had it been her daughter, instead of her niece, of whom she was making a well ordered disposition. But therein lies the difference, the sting of which is that mother would not have done so she would have known and waited. But waiting was not to be thought of with one in my circumstances, and since I had an offer of marriage from a well to do farmer, Aunt Janet made up her mind for me without delay. "I have spent all I am able to bring you up well, and there are my own girls growing up to take your place. It is not likely you will receive such another good chance of marriage as Ralph Harding offers you, and, indeed, a girl of your age ought to know her own mind if she knows anything, which, if she does not, the best thing she can do is to say 'yes' to some one who is able to take care of her, and has mind enough for both." This was the burden of Aunt Janet's persuasions from the beginning of my early sixteenth summer, when Ralph Harding came to woo me, until I yielded to the pressure brought to bear upon me, and consented to take upon myself the burdens of wifehood ere I had well learned those which girlhood has to bear. I was in merciful unconsciousness of the trials I had yet to endure, and I was, moreover, in entire ignorance of the character of the man whom I was to wed in one short month. Ralph Harding was not disagreeable to me; I could admit truly that I liked him as well as any man I had met-but no more. He was just double my age, and handsome, with that mere physical attraction, which, if it has no soul attraction to match, grows repellent in time. I had not the time in my hurried state of mind, nor had I the subtile power of analysis which years of experience give, to attempt a study of his character. Learned, I knew he was not; and in after years I had ample time to discover that his stock-yard possessed much more attraction for him than the pages of any book. But he was well to do, as Aunt Janet said, and owned a handsome farm and well appointed house, of which I was expected to be mistress. I was never familiar with him, even in the days of our courtship, when one may surely be pardon ed for all the foolish actions in which one may choose to indulge. Had I possessed any such desire, his haughty face and cold, black eyes would have chilled me into silence. But I was by nature both shy and reserved, and the qualities seemed to suit him well. He called me "Salome," without any prefixes, and in his absence addressed me in a brief note as "Miss Durant," and signed himself "Yours, etc." My ignorance of lovers' ways was only equaled by my innocence, or I might have resented such cool appreciation, but I had the feeling that resistance to his will would be useless. One August morning we were married, standing calmly before the altar in our village church. I can recollect with vivid distinctness how the the fervid sun blazed on the fields outside, and how still the church seemed while we uttered our responses, and I wondered, with girlish carelessness, if the assembled company thought me fair of face under the crown of white blossoms. How still one's soul stands at sight of a child leaning on the crumbling edge of a precipice! But Salome Durant went over and down, and there was not one hand lifted to draw her back. How could I know that I was digging a grave for all the best and purest emotions of my womanhood? What does any girl of sixteen know of the birthright of her soul, the supreme necessity of assured love and faith in which she can repose in the years to come, and to secure which her heart should unfold as a blossom to meet the rays of the sun? O mother, mother! if God had only sent you to me with one sign; if you had but come to me in dreams, and whispered, "Wait!" We did not go on a wedding journey. It was contrary to his desire, and he said he could not leave his business. So he took me home, and bade me become acquainted with my surroundings, for I was now Mrs. Harding and the mistress of his house. "So sensible of him not to make any display," remarked Aunt Janet, with satisfaction. As I did not know there was anything else to be done under the circumstances, I had no complaints to make, and obeyed his injunctions. to the letter, inspecting the house thoroughly and criticising the one servant under my control. Thanks to Aunt Janet's preliminary training, I was able to do myself justice in the housekeeping department. My husband was not at first unkind; as long as I obeyed him implicitly he was satisfied. But the days soon came when my lonesome heart admitted to itself in secret that if this was all of life it was not very attractive. And how the years stretched out before me! After the first sharp realization of the narrowness and dullness of my life, I could not put the thought from me; and presently, instead of measuring time by the years still ahead of me, I fell to dreading the misery which could be crowded in the days. This state came upon me gradually, and it was not until I had been two years married that I fully realized the wretchedness of my situation. I think my husband began to dislike me because I did not bear him children, and after the first year of our married life he took but little more notice of me than he did of his dog, unless I displeased him. I don't know that I had expected anything different, but the inborn desire of every woman's heart for love and protection made me dissatisfied. At this juncture I had recourse to literature for amusement. I read every book that came in my way, and the gates of another world were opened to me. I declare that I did not neglect my duties to pursue that one pleasure of my life; I never heard my husband's step that I did not put away my book and willingly attend to his orders, but he may have thought I was deceiving him, for he came behind me one day, and, taking my book from my nerveless hand, threw it into the fire-place, saying sternly: "You waste too much time with such trash. Have you nothing better to do than to sit hour after hour with a book in your hand?" My heart rose up in my throat, but I remained silent through my utter fear of the anger in his eyes. "Why don't you answer, you dumb thing? I might as well have married a block of wood. Speak!" He raised his hand with a threatening gesture. From another part of the room his hound crawled to his feet, fawning about them with a visibly palpitating heart, uncertain whether the command was intended for him. He gave the animal a kick, which sent him whining behind my chair, never taking his eyes from my face. "I did not suppose you cared," I answered, in a dull voice. The hound crouched down on the skirt of my dress. "Oh, you didn't," he sneered. "Well, I have this to say to you: I intend you shall employ your time more profitably to me than in reading novels. My mother used to sew carpet-rags when her work was done. You can do the same." He turned on his heel and left the room, and his hound followed closely behind him with watchful eyes. I was never one of the women who could comfort themselves by weeping over their wrongs. Mine burned so deeply as to dry the fountain-head of my tears. Therefore, though I went silently about my allotted duties and employed my spare time in wearily stitching the dyed strips together, I was at heart rebellious and wicked. My reading had done me the harm to reveal to me what life ought to be, and how, instead of being the drudge of a man like Ralph Harding, I might have been an honored and happy wife. I think my husband felt the change in my disposition, for he took to watching me furtively thereafter. Under such circumstances, one cannot wonder that my aversion turned to absolute hatred. I tried to conquer it; I knew it was wrong and would lead to more misery, but once the truth was recognized by my soul it was too late to hide it. I set my teeth together with spasmodic force when I heard his footsteps approaching; I never lifted my eyes lest his own should read therein the expression of my aversion; my flesh absolutely writhed and shrank from his touch as if he were polluted, but I held myself in check, partly through fear and partly from necessity. | that he told me how to occupy my time during his absence, which might have been for years as far as I knew. But I was rejoiced at the opportunity. "Now, remember, Salome, and do as I have told you, for if you do not I shall be sure to find it out when I get back." And he might have added, "And woe be unto you if you dare to disobey me!" for his threatening glance betrayed it very clearly. I felt a defiant joy leap up within me as he departed without another word or glance. I would be free!-free at twenty after four long years of slavery! Free! when I should never have known at my age what it was to be otherwise. O God! the scars of my chains were so deeply marked that all the years of my life would not wear them out. My first proceeding after my husband left was to give my assistant (what was I but a servant?) a week's holiday, telling her that I was going home to Aunt Janet for a visit. This was not likely to excite much suspicion-I had visited my aunt at rare intervals. When I had seen Sarah fairly out of the house, I attired myself in a plain and serviceable brown dress, and stored a few necessary articles in a small black bag, which had once belonged to my mother. The bag bore on its side the plain letters, "H. G." They brought another inspiration to me. It would not do to be known as Mrs. Harding; I would leave everything that did not belong to me, and the name was none of mine. Mother's name had once been Helen Gray-mine should be the same. To that I had at least the shadow of a right. When I I do not know when the idea of escape first suggested itself to me, but, once entertained, it grew a part of my nature. I could not have endured the tyranny of the last two years of my married life if it had not been for the relief the idea afforded at the times when I had most occasion to hate him. It never occurred to me, as it might to some, to have taken his life. My disposition could not have entertained such a possibility, and all I contemplated was the putting of distance and silence between us. Even after the laying out of my plans, I foresaw that there was small possibility of my carrying them into effect under his watchful eye. I hardly dared to take the first step, for fear of discovery, which would only doom me to more degrading slavery. I realized the perils attending such a step, but imagination could not call up terrors enough to force me to live longer with Ralph Harding. For four deathless years I had borne in uncomplaining silence his arrogant selfishness, his brutal tyranny, and coarse sneers and jests. I was conscious that the level of his intellect was far below my own, and the feeling that I was his superior, in spite of his degrading insults, doubtless served to sharpen his anger. Possibly he felt that my dumbing swiftly along till I reached the highway, acquiescence was an aggravating assertion of my superiority to his jibes. When the time came that I found myself free from his hated presence, I felt thankful beyond expression that there was no child to be a bond between us. His child could have no part in my affections, I am convinced. I do not know to this day why my husband was so short-sighted as to leave me to my own devices for a week. He never deigned to explain to me any of his actions. It was enough left the house, I had not one article that was not lawfully mine; the clothes I wore were but a small part of my wages. Even my weddingring was left in the upper drawer of the bureau, but in my satchel I carried an old watch and chain and seal-ring that had been my father's, and some trifles of jewelry that had been keepsakes of my mother's for years. They would not bring much, but they would at least keep me from starving until I could find work. I set out in the full blaze of a July sun, walk my heart thrilling with conflicting emotions. I My heart leaped with fear at being addressed, but I accepted his invitation, and climbed wearily to the high wagon-seat. "You do be tired," remarked my host, sym- | perfectly willing their children should grow up pathetically. "I'm glad I come along. How far might you be goin', miss?" The word "miss" sounded oddly to my ears. "I want to go to L-to-night," I replied. "Well, now, that's good. I be goin' there myself to sell this garden truck. We'll get to the city this evening; don't you worry." in ignorance. There was no demand for a seamstress; the fashions were of the most primitive kind. In short, I found myself at the end of a few weeks penniless and unemployed. I paid my last dime for some bread, which I put in my bag, and started out on foot. I left the town, which had been anything but pleasant to me, and struck off over the rolling hills in the direction of the country. I walked wearily past farm-houses and happy homes, but at none of them was there any place for Helen Gray. I suppose I was not in such apparent destitution that they thought of giving me alms, and the stamped so plainly on my youthful face that I was, doubtless, considered an imposter. At night I crept into a corn-field, and ate my last mouthful of bread in a sort of dull defiance of hunger. All through the long hours of that August night I crouched against the fence, sometimes watching far-off constellations as the stars wheeled slowly above me, and sleeping, brokenly, at other times with my head bent upon my knees. Yet not one thought of returning to the husband I had left ever crossed my mind even in my most wretched moment. I would have deliberately died by the road rather than he should have had my life at his disposal again. In the early dawn I gathered myself up and essayed to make a breakfast from the milky ears of corn near at hand. But a very little sufficed, and I proceeded slowly on my way. At noon I went up to a house that had a hospitable appearance, and asked to see the mistress. She came, hard-featured and shrew And I didn't. We reached the city in the edge of the evening, and my friend put me off before a jewelry store, as I had requested. I could not get my supper till I had disposed of my father's watch and chain, for I had not taken one cent of Ralph Harding's money. I succeeded in obtaining sixty dollars for it; the jew-years of my life, if not of my suffering, were eler said it was good gold, though rather light, but he did not refuse to buy it. With that sum I made my way to a railway depot, and entered the refreshment room, feeling faint for lack of sustenance. But I made a hasty meal, and, after payment, went to the office and purchased a ticket for a small station called Mount Pleasant; then sat in the waiting-room till the night express came in. I do not know why I chose Mount Pleasant for my stopping-place. I think the name gave me a sense of rest and quiet. I did not intend to bury myself in a city where I knew every effort would be made to find me. I had no very definite ideas of what I ought to do, but trusted to chance, in an idle, hap-hazard sort of way, that brought its own pleasure in the limits it allowed my vagrant fancy. The night express rumbled in, panted a few busy moments, and rattled away again with myself curled down in one of the seats in delicious idleness. When I reached Mount Pleasant, at ten o'clock the next morning, I found it a low-ish, but I made one last effort. I took my falying hamlet, hedged round by rolling hills; a sleepy place, only stirred to activity by the arrival and departure of the train twice a day. I alighted, and made my way to the small hotel, introducing myself to the landlady with a view to obtaining information concerning my surroundings. But my efforts proved futile. Did she know of any family who wanted a seamstress or housemaid? No; she didn't. Was | there any chance to teach a small school in the district? She didn't know. Was there anything she thought it likely a young woman could be helped to which would enable her to earn her own living? She couldn't say now, really. After dinner I started out to prospect for myself. It did not take long to discover that the resources of the town were extremely limited. No one wanted assistance of any kind; in fact, the inhabitants were not disposed to earn their living by the "sweat of their brows," nor enable any one else to do so either. They did not care for educational privileges-were ther's seal-ring from my purse, and asked if she would buy it from me. I had no money, and wanted to purchase something to eat. She took the ring, looking at me curiously. "I will give you your dinner for it." "But, madam, it is worth much more than that," I objected, faintly. "You will take that or nothing. I believe you have stolen this ring!" she said, sharply. My fear and desperation lent me courage. "Give me my ring! I did not steal it! It was my father's." "How do I know that? You are well dressed for a beggar," eyeing me sharply. I snatched the ring from her hard, cruel hand, and faced her in one flash of failing strength and pride. "If you should live to be friendless and starving, may you receive as you have given !" Then I never stopped again as long as my strength held out, being fearful that she would have me followed as a thief. I turned into by ways and lanes; I wandered deeper and deeper | ployment was excusable of one in my circum into the wooded country; and by and by the sun declined and the trees threw long shadows across the road before my swimming vision. I saw a low cottage by the roadside-a haven of peace and comfort, with marigolds under the windows, and double red hollyhocks beside the gate. I put my hand on the gate and slowly opened it. At the creak it gave a woman came to the door, a broad, freckle-faced, fleshy woman, with her two red hands on either hip, and her sleeves rolled above a pair of stout arms. I dragged my feet to the doorway, and looked up at her. "Could you give me― I put my hand out against the door-post to steady myself; everything was whirling round me. I gasped for breath, and cried out, wildly: "O my God! I'm starving to death!" Then I sank down in utter unconsciousness across the threshold. I I opened my eyes, at length, to find a dull light pervading the apartment in which I lay. I felt a delightful sense of rest and comfort. was lying on a bed in the corner, and there was a low sound of whispering outside the door. I turned my head with a slight movement upon the pillow, and the woman I had spoken to looked in anxiously, but, seeing my eyes open, hastened to the bedside with a brightening face. "Ah, shure, yer comin' to yer senses now, honey! I tought ye niver would spake another word, I did, as shure as me name's Kate Riley; an' I was just tellin' John he'd betther go for a docther; for truth I didn't know what in the wurrld to do for ye. An' how do ye feel, my dear?" stances. My hostess listened to my account with the greatest attention and sympathy, and at its close said heartily: "Poor girl! Put up yer ring an' bits o' jewelry. I've no use for 'em, widout I cud wear 'em on me nose, for divil a one cud I git on me big fingers! Yer welcome to stay wi' me till ye can do betther; an' as soon as yer able to work, if work ye must, why there's berries an' fruit needs pickin' down in the lot, an' John was scoldin' me this mornin' for bein' too lazy to help him. Now, honey, let me help ye up, an' I'll take ye to another room, where ye ken shlape till the sun stares ye out o' countenance. Come, now, not a word out ov' ye till ye've had a long night's rest." The good soul put her two fat arms around me, and lifted me easily off the bed, assisting me to a small, clean bed-chamber, and bestowing me in the bed therein, talking cheerily all the while in the mellow brogue, which was a novelty to my ears. My slumber that night was deep and dreamless. When I awoke next morning I felt a new life thrilling through my veins. I dressed myself hastily, and went out in the garden. There was no one in the kitchen as I passed through, but the hands of the clock indicated eight as the hour of the day. There was a fresh coolness in the atmosphere, the skies above were blue and breezy, and the woods beyond the meadow looked delightfully green and mysterious. As I stood inhaling deep breaths of the free, fragrant air, Mrs. Riley came round the corner of the house. "Good morning to ye, honey! Ye look as fresh as a bird, an' yer eyes are sparklin', so there's no need of me askin' how ye feel. John I smiled up in her comely face, and essayed an' me had our breakfast long ago, but I've to speak. "I feel very comfortable, thank you,” I said, weakly. "Well, that's good. I've got some beef-broth handy by, an' I'll feed ye a bit, so ye'll feel betther." She brought the bowl to the bedside, and held spoonful after spoonful to my famishing lips. "Poor little thing! Why, ye were starvin' thrue enough. Whin did ye ate last?" "I had some bread for my supper last night." "An' nothin' the day? Why, God help ye, this isn't a haythin counthry, child!" I confessed, between judiciously administered mouthfuls of beef-broth that was like nectar, a part of the true state of affairs. I never intended, from the time I left my husband's house, to tell any one that I had been a wife. But that I was homeless and friendless was perfectly true, and that I was forced to seek em kept a bit hot for ye, so come along an' thry it." Over the substantial breakfast which her kind thoughtfulness had kept warm we chatted confidingly. Mrs. Riley told me how "her John had taken the California fever, an' that nothing on earth would do him but he must sell the ould place next spring, and jine an emigrant train that was to cross the plains. An' if John tought best she s'posed she'd have to go wid him, seein' she couldn't be content to live widout him, though it would be hard to leave the place where she had buried her three children." While the good woman was explaining the situation a thought flashed across my mind, born of my dire necessity, and I spoke at once. "Oh, if you'd only let me go with you!" "To Californy, Miss Helen! An' what ud ye do there ?" "It's a new country. I could find something to do teach school, may be. And I have no |