ostscript), my sympathy with Euneece would have penetrated her motives;
I should have felt with her feelings. But I have never been in love;
no gentleman gave me the opportunity when I was young. Now I am
middle-aged, neglect has done its dreary work--my heart is an extinct
crater. Figurative again! I had better put my pen away, and say farewell
for the present."

Miss Jillgall may now give place to Eunice. The same day's post brought
me both letters.

I should be unworthy indeed of the trust which this affectionate girl
has placed in me, if I failed to receive her explanation of her conduct
toward Philip Dunboyne, as a sacred secret confided to my fatherly
regard. In those later portions of her letter, which are not addressed
to me confidentially, Eunice writes as follows:

"I get news--and what heartbreaking news!--of my father, by sending
a messenger to Selina. It is more than ever impossible that I can put
myself in the way of seeing Helena again. She has written to me
about Philip, in a tone so shockingly insolent and cruel, that I have
destroyed her letter. Philip's visit to the farm, discovered I don't
know how, seems to have infuriated her. She accuses me of doing all
that she might herself have done in my place, and threatens me--No! I am
afraid of the wicked whisperings of that second self of mine if I think
of it. They were near to tempting me when I read Helena's letter. But
I thought of what you said, after I had shown you my Journal; and your
words took my memory back to the days when I was happy with Philip. The
trial and the terror passed away.

"Consolation has come to me from the best of good women. Mrs. Staveley
writes as lovingly as my mother might have written, if death had spared
her. I have replied with all the gratitude that I really feel, but
without taking advantage of the services which she offers. Mrs. Staveley
has it in her mind, as you had it in your mind, to bring Philip back to
me. Does she forget, do you forget, that Helena claims him? But you both
mean kindly, and I love you both for the interest that you feel in me.

"The farmer's wife--dear good soul!--hardly understands me so well as
her husband does. She confesses to pitying Philip. 'He is so wretched,'
she says. 'And, dear heart, how handsome, and what nice, winning
manners! I don't think I should have had your courage, in your place. To
tell the truth, I should have jumped for joy when I saw him at the door;
and I should ha