ou know."

"Yes, you have been ill for some days. I have been nursing you."

"And what has happened in this house, the while? Oh, where is
Christal,--poor Christal?"

There was a frown on Mrs. Gwynne's countenance--a frown so stern that
it brought back to Olive's memory all that had befallen. Earnestly
regarding her, she said, "Something has happened--something awful. How
much of it do you know?"

"Everything! But, Olive, we must not talk."

"_I_ must not be left to think, or I should lose my senses again.
Therefore, let me hear all that you have found out, I entreat you!"

Mrs. Gwynne saw she had best comply, for there was still a piteous
bewilderment in Olive's look. "Lie still," she said, "and I will tell
you. I came to this house when that miserable girl was rushing from
it. I brought her back--I controlled her, as I have ere now controlled
passions as wild as hers, though she is almost a demon."

"Hush, hush!" murmured Olive.

"She told me everything. But all is safe, for I have possession of the
letter; and I have nursed you myself, alone."

"Oh, how good, how wise, how faithful you have been!"

"I would have done all and more for your sake, Olive, and for the sake
of your unhappy father. But, oh! that ever I should hear this of Angus
Rothesay. Alas! it is a sinful, sinful world. Never knew I one truly
good man, save my son Harold."

The mention of this name fell on Olive's wandering thoughts like balm,
turning her mind from the horror she had passed through. Besides, from
her state of exhaustion, everything was growing dim and indistinct to
her mind.

"You shall tell me more another time," she said; and then, sinking back
on her pillow, still holding fast the hand of Harold's mother, she lay
and slept till morning.

When, in the daylight, she recovered a little more, Mrs. Gwynne told
her all that had happened. From the moment that Christal saw her
sister carried upstairs, dead, as it were, her passion ceased. But she
exhibited neither contrition nor alarm. She went and locked herself up
in her chamber, from whence she had never stirred. She let no one enter
except Mrs. Gwynne, who seemed to have over her that strong rule which
was instinctive in such a woman. She it was who brought Christal her
meals, and compelled her to take them; or else, in her sullen misery,
the girl would, as she threatened, have starved herself to death. And
though many a stormy contest arose between the two, when Mrs. Gwyn