a moment's doubt, I said I had seen it.

"Did you pity those poor wretches?"

"Certainly! They deserved pity."

"I am one of them!" she said. "Pity _me_. If Helena looks at me--if
Helena speaks to me--if I only see Helena by accident--do you know what
she does? She tempts me! Tempts me to do dreadful things! Tempts me--"
The poor child threw her arms round my neck, and whispered the next
fatal words in my ear.

The mother! Prepared as I was for the accursed discovery, the horror of
it shook me.

She left me, and started to her feet. The inherited energy showed itself
in furious protest against the inherited evil. "What does it mean?" she
cried. "I'll submit to anything. I'll bear my hard lot patiently, if you
will only tell me what it means. Where does this horrid transformation
of me out of myself come from? Look at my good father. In all this world
there is no man so perfect as he is. And oh, how he has taught me! there
isn't a single good thing that I have not learned from him since I was
a little child. Did you ever hear him speak of my mother? You must have
heard him. My mother was an angel. I could never be worthy of her at my
best--but I have tried! I have tried! The wickedest girl in the world
doesn't have worse thoughts than the thoughts that have come to me.
Since when? Since Helena--oh, how can I call her by her name as if I
still loved her? Since my sister--can she be my sister, I ask myself
sometimes! Since my enemy--there's the word for her--since my enemy took
Philip away from me. What does it mean? I have asked in my prayers--and
have got no answer. I ask you. What does it mean? You must tell me! You
shall tell me! What does it mean?"

Why did I not try to calm her? I had vainly tried to calm her--I who
knew who her mother was, and what her mother had been.

At last, she had forced the sense of my duty on me. The simplest way
of calming her was to put her back in the place by my side that she had
left. It was useless to reason with her, it was impossible to answer
her. I had my own idea of the one way in which I might charm Eunice back
to her sweeter self.

"Let us talk of Philip," I said.

The fierce flush on her face softened, the swelling trouble of her bosom
began to subside, as that dearly-loved name passed my lips! But there
was some influence left in her which resisted me.

"No," she said; "we had better not talk of him."

"Why not?"

"I have lost all my courage. If you speak of Phi