the truth was known to Daisy. It seemed to her that the other half would
heal rather than hurt.

She went back, and, standing in front of the girl, held out her hands to
her. But Daisy made no response to the gesture, and, indeed, moved a
little away. That, again, cut Jeannie like a lash, but she knew the pain
of it would be only temporary. In a few minutes now Daisy would
understand.

"I am going to tell you," she said, "and as I tell you, my dear, I
want you to keep on thinking to yourself that Diana was your sister,
your only sister, and--and that you used to play together and love
each other when you were children. And, dear Daisy, you must try to
be--not to be a girl only when I tell you this. You are a girl, but
you are a woman also, and you must bear this like a woman who is
hearing about her sister."

Once again Jeannie longed to take Daisy in her arms and tell her,
holding that dear head close to her bosom. But it was not time for
that yet.

"You were told five years ago," she said, "that your sister was dead.
She was not, Daisy; she died last year only, soon after I went abroad.
And she died in my arms, dear, thank Heaven, because I loved her. And
she loved me, Daisy. Oh, darling, you must bear this. I tried to spare
you the knowledge, for I promised Diana that, but by ill-chance you have
guessed so much that I think it better to tell you all. And you mustn't
judge Diana, poor dear, or condemn her. The time has quite gone by for
that, and, besides, she was your sister, and at the end the thing she
wanted most in all the world was that you should not know. Remember
that. Women have a hard time in this world, Daisy. Some are married
unhappily, and though Diana's husband loved her very truly and tenderly
it was not a happy marriage. At the time when you were told she was dead
she was not, but she had left her husband. For the love he bore her he
did not divorce her. Yes, dear, it was that."

Again Jeannie paused. As the moment came near it was all she could do to
get the words out. Yet when Daisy knew all, out of the hurt would come
some healing. Jeannie could make her feel how she loved her.

"She lived in Paris after she left her husband," she continued. "She
lived for a time with the man for whom she deserted him. She wanted
love--women do--you and I do. She--she got love. After a while there was
another man. Yes, my dear, it was he. We needn't name him any more than
we did just now when we spoke of him