l; but I can no
more live than can a tree stricken at the root. To-morrow he will not
need to write notes; he can come and comfort you in our home. But never
let him look at me. As we are sisters, and I almost a mother to you, shut
my face away from his eyes--or I shall rise in my casket and the tangle
of our lives will be renewed.'

"I tell you this--I bare my sister's broken heart to you, giving you her
very words, sacred as they are to me and--and to others, who are
present, and must listen to all I say--because it is right that you
should understand her frenzy, and know all that passed between us in
that awful hour."

This was irregular, highly irregular--but District Attorney Fox sat on,
unmoved. Possibly he feared to prejudice the jury; possibly he recognised
the danger of an interruption now, not only to the continuity of her
testimony, but to the witness herself; or--what is just as
likely--possibly he cherished a hope that, in giving her a free rein and
allowing her to tell her story thus artlessly, she would herself supply
the clew he needed to reconstruct his case on the new lines upon which it
was being slowly forced by these unexpected revelations. Whatever the
cause, he let these expressions of feeling pass.

At a gesture from Mr. Moffat, Carmel proceeded:

"I tottered at this threat; and she, a mother to me from my cradle,
started instinctively to catch me; but the feeling left her before she
had taken two steps, and she stopped still. 'Drop your hand,' she cried.
'I want to see your whole face while I ask you one last question. I could
not read the note. Why did you come _here?_ I dropped my hand, and she
stood staring; then she uttered a cry and ran quickly towards me. 'What
is it?' she cried. 'What has happened to you? Is it the shadow or--'

"I caught her by the hand. I could speak now. 'Adelaide,' said I, 'you
are not the only one to love to the point of hurt. I love _you_. Let this
little scar be witness,' Then, as her eyes opened and she staggered, I
caught her to my breast and hid my face on her shoulder. 'You say that
to-morrow I shall be free to receive notes. He will not wish to write
them, tomorrow. The beauty he liked is gone. If it weighed overmuch with
him, then you and I are on a plane again--or I am on an inferior one.
Your joy will be sweeter for this break!'

"She started, raised my head from her shoulder, looked at me and
shuddered--but no longer with hate. 'Carmel!' she whispere