h children; that
habit had made it familiar to us in the course of years; and above all,
that we were too fond of our good father to ask for explanations which
we knew by experience would distress him: Thirdly, that friends did try
to discover, by personal examination, which was the elder sister, and
differed perpetually in their conclusions; also that we had amused
ourselves by trying the same experiment before our looking-glasses, and
that Eunice thought Helena was the oldest, and Helena thought Eunice was
the oldest: Fourthly (and finally), that the Reverend Mr. Gracedieu's
cousin had better drop the subject, unless she was bent on making her
presence in the house unendurable to the Reverend Mr. Gracedieu himself.

I write it with a sense of humiliation; Miss Jillgall listened
attentively to all I had to say--and then took me completely by
surprise. This inquisitive, meddlesome, restless, impudent woman
suddenly transformed herself into a perfect model of amiability and
decorum. She actually said she agreed with me, and was much obliged for
my good advice!

A stupid young woman, in my place, would have discovered that this was
not natural, and that Miss Jillgall was presenting herself to me in
disguise, to reach some secret end of her own. I am not a stupid young
woman; I ought to have had at my service penetration enough to
see through and through Cousin Selina. Well! Cousin Selina was an
impenetrable mystery to me.

The one thing to be done was to watch her. I was at least sly enough to
take up a book, and pretend to be reading it. How contemptible!

She looked round the room, and discovered our pretty writing-table;
a present to my father from his congregation. After a little
consideration, she sat down to write a letter.

"When does the post go out?" she asked.

I mentioned the hour; and she began her letter. Before she could have
written more than the first two or three lines, she turned round on her
seat, and began talking to me.

"Do you like writing letters, my dear?"

"Yes--but then I have not many letters to write."

"Only a few friends, Helena, but those few worthy to be loved? My own
case exactly. Has your father told you of my troubles? Ah, I am glad of
that. It spares me the sad necessity of confessing what I have suffered.
Oh, how good my friends, my new friends, were to me in that dull little
Belgian town! One of them was generosity personified--ah, she had
suffered, too! A vile husband who