Dinner was over, and the salon deserted by all but the two young ladies, who sat apart, apparently absorbed in novels, while each was privately longing for somebody to come, and with the charming inconsistency of the fair sex, planning to fly if certain somebodies did appear.  
Steps approached; both buried themselves in their books; both held their breath and felt their hearts flutter as they never had done before at the step of mortal man. The door opened; neither looked up, yet each was conscious of mingled disappointment and relief when the major said, in a grave tone, "Girls, I've something to tell you."
 
"We know what it is, sir," returned Helen, coolly.
 
"I beg your pardon, but you don't, my dear, as I will prove in five minutes, if you will give me your attention."
 
The major looked as if braced up to some momentous undertaking; and planting himself before the two young ladies, dashed bravely into the subject.
 
"Girls, I've played a bold game, but I've won it, and will take the consequences."
 
"They will fall heaviest on you, uncle," said Helen, thinking he was about to declare his love for the widow.
 
The major laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and answered, stoutly,—
 
"I'll bear them; but you are quite wrong, my dear, in your surmises, as you will soon see. Helen is my ward, and accountable to me alone. Amy's mother gave her into my charge, and won't reproach me for anything that has passed when I explain matters. As to the lads they must take care of themselves."
 
Suddenly both girls colored, fluttered, and became intensely interested. The major's eyes twinkled as he assumed a perfectly impassive expression, and rapidly delivered himself of the following thunderbolt,—
 
"Girls, you have been deceived, and the young men you love are impostors."
 
"I thought so," muttered Helen, grimly.
 
"Oh, uncle, don't, don't say that!" cried Amy, despairingly.
 
"It's true, my dears; and the worst of it is, I knew the truth all the time. Now, don't have hysterics, but listen and enjoy the joke as I do. At Coblentz, when you sat in the balcony, two young men overheard Amy sigh for adventures, and Helen advise making a romance out of the gloves one of the lads had dropped. They had seen you by day; both admired you, and being idle, gay young fellows, they resolved to devote their vacation to gratifying your wishes and enjoying themselves. We met at the Fortress; I knew one of them, and liked the other immensely; so when they confided their scheme to me I agreed to help them carry it out, as I had perfect confidence in both, and thought a little adventure or two would do you good."
 
"Uncle, you were mad," said Helen; and Amy added, tragically,—
 
"You don't know what trouble has come of it."
 
"Perhaps I was; that remains to be proved. I do know everything, and fail to see any trouble, so don't cry, little girl," briskly replied the inexplicable major. "Well, we had a merry time planning our prank. One of the lads insisted on playing courier, though I objected. He'd done it before, liked the part, and would have his way. The other couldn't decide, being younger and more in love; so we left him to come into the comedy when he was ready. Karl did capitally, as you will allow; and I am much attached to him, for in all respects he has been true to his word. He began at Coblentz; the other, after doing the mysterious at Heidelberg, appeared as an exile, and made quick work with the prejudices of my well-beloved nieces—hey, Amy?"
 
"Go on; who are they?" cried both girls, breathlessly.
 
"Wait a bit; I'm not bound to expose the poor fellows to your scorn and anger. No; if you are going to be high and haughty, to forget their love, refuse to forgive their frolic, and rend their hearts with reproaches, better let them remain unknown."
 
"No, no; we will forget and forgive, only speak!" was the command of both.
 
"You promise to be lenient and mild, to let them confess their motives, and to award a gentle penance for their sins?"
 
"Yes, we promise!"
 
"Then, come in, my lads, and plead for your lives."
 
As he spoke the major threw open the door, and two gentlemen entered the room—one, slight and dark, with brilliant black eyes; the other tall and large, with blond hair and beard. Angry, bewildered, and shame-stricken as they were, feminine curiosity overpowered all other feelings for the moment, and the girls sat looking at the culprits with eager eyes, full of instant recognition; for though the disguise was off, and neither had seen them in their true characters but once, they felt no doubt, and involuntarily exclaimed,—
 
"Karl!"
 
"Casimer."
 
"No, young ladies; the courier and exile are defunct, and from their ashes rise Baron Sigismund Palsdorf, my friend, and Sidney Power, my nephew. I give you one hour to settle the matter; then I shall return to bestow my blessing or to banish these scapegraces forever."
 
And, having fired his last shot, the major prudently retreated, without waiting to see its effect.
 
It was tremendous, for it carried confusion into the fair enemy's camp; and gave the besiegers a momentary advantage of which they were not slow to avail themselves.
 
For a moment the four remained mute and motionless: then Amy, like all timid things, took refuge in flight, and Sidney followed her into the garden, glad to see the allies separated. Helen, with the courage of her nature, tried to face and repulse the foe; but love was stronger than pride, maiden shame overcame anger, and, finding it vain to meet and bear down the steady, tender glance of the blue eyes fixed upon her, she dropped her head into her hands and sat before him, like one conquered but too proud to cry "Quarter." Her lover watched her till she hid her face, then drew near, knelt down before her, and said, with an undertone of deep feeling below the mirthful malice of his words,—
 
"Mademoiselle, pardon me that I am a foolish baron, and dare to offer you the title that you hate. I have served you faithfully for a month, and, presumptuous as it is, I ask to be allowed to serve you all my life. Helen, say you forgive the deceit for love's sake."
 
"No; you are false and forsworn. How can I believe that anything is true?"
 
And Helen drew away the hand of which he had taken possession.
 
"Heart's dearest, you trusted me in spite of my disguise; trust me still, and I will prove that I am neither false nor forsworn. Catechise me, and see if I was not true in spite of all my seeming deception."
 
"You said your name was Karl Hoffman," began Helen, glad to gain a little time to calm herself before the momentous question came.
 
"It is; I have many, and my family choose to call me Sigismund," was the laughing answer.
 
"I'll never call you so; you shall be Karl, the courier, all your life to me," cried Helen, still unable to meet the ardent eyes before her.
 
"Good; I like that well; for it assures me that all my life I shall be something to you, my heart. What next?"
 
"When I asked if you were the baron, you denied it."
 
"Pardon! I simply said my name was Hoffman. You did not ask me point blank if I was the baron; had you done so, I think I should have confessed all, for it was very hard to restrain myself this morning."
 
"No, not yet; I have more questions;" and Helen warned him away, as it became evident that he no longer considered restraint necessary.
 
"Who is Ludmilla?" she said, sharply.
 
"My faith, that is superb!" exclaimed the baron, with a triumphant smile at her betrayal of jealousy. "How if she is a former love?" he asked, with a sly look at her changing face.
 
"It would cause me no surprise; I am prepared for anything."
 
"How if she is my dearest sister, for whom I sent, that she might welcome you and bring the greetings of my parents to their new daughter?"
 
"Is it, indeed, so?"
 
And Helen's eyes dimmed as the thought of parents, home and love filled her heart with tenderest gratitude, for she had long been an orphan.
 
"Leibchen, it is true; to-morrow you shall see how dear you already are to them, for I write often and they wait eagerly to receive you."
 
Helen felt herself going very fast, and made an effort to harden her heart, lest too easy victory should reward this audacious lover.
 
"I may not go; I also have friends, and in England we are not won in this wild way. I will yet prove you false; it will console me for being so duped if I can call you traitor. You said Casimer had fought in Poland."
 
"Crudest of women, he did, but under his own name, Sidney Power."
 
"Then, he was not the brave Stanislas?—and there is no charming
Casimer?"
 
"Yes, there are both,—his and my friends, in Paris; true Poles, and when we go there you shall see them."
 
"But his illness was a ruse?"
 
"No; he was wounded in the war and has been ill since. Not of a fatal malady, I own; his cough misled you, and he has no scruples in fabling to any extent. I am not to bear the burden of his sins."
 
"Then, the romances he told us about your charity, your virtues, and—your love of liberty were false?" said Helen, with a keen glance, for these tales had done much to interest her in the unknown baron.
 
Sudden color rose to his forehead, and for the first time his eyes fell before hers,—not in shame, but with a modest man's annoyance at hearing himself praised.
 
"Sidney is enthusiastic in his friendship, and speaks too well for me. The facts are true, but he doubtless glorified the simplest by his way of telling it. Will you forgive my follies, and believe me when I promise to play and duel no more?"
 
"Yes."
 
She yielded her hand now, and her eyes were full of happiness, yet she added, wistfully,—
 
"And the betrothed, your cousin, Minna,—is she, in truth, not dear to you?"
 
"Very dear, but less so than another; for I could not learn of her in years what I learned in a day when I met you. Helen, this was begun in jest,—it ends in solemn earnest, for I love my liberty, and I have lost it, utterly and forever. Yet I am glad; look in my face and tell me you believe it."
 
He spoke now as seriously as fervently, and with no shadow on her own, Helen brushed back the blond hair and looked into her lover's face. Truth, tendern............