ttle
matter which interests me. My sister is rash, and reckless, and has a
terrible temper. I should be very sorry indeed if you were induced to
form an unfavorable opinion of me, from anything you might notice if you
see us together. You understand me, I hope?"

"I quite understand you."

To set me against her sister, in her own private interests--there, as
I felt sure, was the motive under which she was acting. As hard as
her mother, as selfish as her mother, and, judging from those two bad
qualities, probably as cruel as her mother. That was how I understood
Miss Helena Gracedieu, when our carriage drew up at her father's house.

A middle-aged lady was on the doorstep, when we arrived, just ringing
the bell. She looked round at us both; being evidently as complete a
stranger to my fair companion as she was to me. When the servant opened
the door, she said:

"Is Miss Jillgall at home?"

At the sound of that odd name, Miss Helena tossed her head disdainfully.
She took no sort of notice of the stranger-lady who was at the door
of her father's house. This young person's contempt for Miss Jillgall
appeared to extend to Miss Jillgall's friends.

In the meantime, the servant's answer was: "Not at home."

The middle aged lady said: "Do you expect her back soon?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I will call again, later in the day."

"What name, if you please?"

The lady stole another look at me, before she replied.

"Never mind the name," she said--and walked away.

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE MINISTER'S MISFORTUNE.

"Do you know that lady?" Miss Helena asked, as we entered the house.

"She is a perfect stranger to me," I answered.

"Are you sure you have not forgotten her?"

"Why do you think I have forgotten her?"

"Because she evidently remembered you."

The lady had no doubt looked at me twice. If this meant that my face was
familiar to her, I could only repeat what I have already said. Never, to
my knowledge, had I seen her before.

Leading the way upstairs, Miss Helena apologized for taking me into her
father's bedroom. "He is able to sit up in an armchair," she said; "and
he might do more, as I think, if he would exert himself. He won't exert
himself. Very sad. Would you like to look at your room, before you see
my father? It is quite ready for you. We hope"--she favored me with
a fascinating smile, devoted to winning my heart when her interests
required it--"we hope you will pay us a long visit; we look on you a