“I have tried a little.  I cannot say I have done my best.  I have been so peevish and irritable.”

“You could not quite help that.”

“How kind you are to excuse me so!  It makes me so much stronger to try again.”

“My father used to say that God was always finding every excuse for us that could be found; every true one, you know; not one false one.”

“That does comfort one.”

After a pause, Euphra resumed: 

“Mr. Sutherland did me some good, Margaret.”

“I do not wonder at that.”

“He made me think less about Count Halkar; and that was something, for he haunted me.  I did not know then how very wicked he was.  I did love him once.  Oh, how I hate him now!”

And she started up and paced the room like a tigress in its cage.

Margaret did not judge this the occasion to read her a lecture on the duty of forgiveness.  She had enough to do to keep from hating the man herself, I suspect.  But she tried to turn her thoughts into another channel.

“Mr. Sutherland loved you very much, Miss Cameron.”

“He loved me once,” said poor Euphra, with a sigh.

“I saw he did.  That was why I began to love you too.”

Margaret had at last unwittingly opened the door of her secret.  She had told the other reason for loving Euphra.  But, naturally enough, Euphra could not understand what she meant.  Perhaps some of my readers, understanding Margaret’s words perfectly, and their reference too, may be so far from understanding Margaret herself, as to turn upon me and say: 

“Impossible!  You cannot have understood her or any other woman.”

Well!

“What do you mean, Margaret?”

Margaret both blushed and laughed outright.

“I must confess it,” said she, at once; “it cannot hurt him now:  my tutor and yours are the same.”

“Impossible!”

“True.”

“And you never spoke all the time you were both at Arnstead?”

“Not once.  He never knew I was in the house.”

“How strange!  And you saw he loved me?”

“Yes.”

“And you were not jealous?”

“I did not say that.  But I soon found that the only way to escape from my jealousy, if the feeling I had was jealousy, was to love you too.  I did.”

“You beautiful creature!  But you could not have loved him much.”

“I loved him enough to love you for his sake.  But why did he stop loving you?  I fear I shall not be able to love him so much now.”

“He could not help it, Margaret.  I deserved it.”

Euphra hid her face in her hands.

“He could not have really loved you, then?”

“Which is better to believe, Margaret,” said Euphra, uncovering her face, which two tears were lingering down, and looking up at her —­ “that he never loved me, or that he stopped loving me?”