perhaps some astonishment also, not to see a more engaging and
more beautiful person; both those feelings restrained within the limits
of good breeding, and both not lasting for more than a few moments--so
far as I could see. I say, "so far," because the horrible agitation
that she communicated to me disturbed my judgment. If I could have got
to the door, I would have run out of the room, she frightened me so! I
was not even able to stand up--I sank back in my chair; I stared
horror-struck at the calm blue eyes that were only looking at me with a
gentle surprise. To say they affected me like the eyes of a serpent is
to say nothing. I felt her soul in them, looking into mine--looking,
if such a thing can be, unconsciously to her own mortal self. I tell
you my impression, in all its horror and in all its folly! That woman
is destined (without knowing it herself) to be the evil genius of my
life. Her innocent eyes saw hidden capabilities of wickedness in me
that I was not aware of myself, until I felt them stirring under her
look. If I commit faults in my life to come--if I am even guilty of
crimes--she will bring the retribution, without (as I firmly believe)
any conscious exercise of her own will. In one indescribable moment I
felt all this--and I suppose my face showed it. The good artless
creature was inspired by a sort of gentle alarm for me. "I am afraid
the heat of the room is too much for you; will you try my smelling
bottle?" I heard her say those kind words; and I remember nothing
else--I fainted. When I recovered my senses, the company had all gone;
only the lady of the house was with me. For the moment I could say
nothing to her; the dreadful impression that I have tried to describe
to you came back to me with the coming back of my life. As soon I
could speak, I implored her to tell me the whole truth about the woman
whom I had supplanted. You see, I had a faint hope that her good
character might not really be deserved, that her noble letter was a
skilful piece of hypocrisy--in short, that she secretly hated me, and
was cunning enough to hide it. No! the lady had been her friend from
her girlhood, was as familiar with her as if they had been
sisters--knew her positively to be as good, as innocent, as incapable
of hating anybody, as the greatest saint that ever lived. My one last
hope, that I had only felt an ordinary forewarning of danger in the
presence of an ordinary enemy, was a hope destroyed for ever. There