“She had neither heart nor mind, in the higher sense of those words.  She had simply instincts—­most of the bad instincts of an animal; none of the good.  The great motive power which really directed her, was Deceit.  I never met with any human being so inherently disingenuous, so naturally incapable of candour even in the most trifling affairs of life, as she was.  The best training could never have wholly overcome this vice in her:  the education she actually got—­an education under false pretences—­encouraged it.  Everybody has read, some people have known, of young girls who have committed the most extraordinary impostures, or sustained the most infamous false accusations; their chief motive being often the sheer enjoyment of practising deceit.  Of such characters was the character of Margaret Sherwin.

“She had strong passions, but not their frequent accompaniment—­strong will, and strong intellect.  She had some obstinacy, but no firmness.  Appeal in the right way to her vanity, and you could make her do the thing she had declared she would not do, the minute after she had made the declaration.  As for her mind, it was of the lowest schoolgirl average.  She had a certain knack at learning this thing, and remembering that; but she understood nothing fairly, felt nothing deeply.  If I had not had my own motive in teaching her, I should have shut the books again, the first time she and I opened them together, and have given her up as a fool.

“All, however, that I discovered of bad in her character, never made me pause in the prosecution of my design; I had carried it too far for that, before I thoroughly knew her.  Besides, what mattered her duplicity to me?—­I could see through it.  Her strong passions?—­I could control them.  Her obstinacy?—­I could break it.  Her poverty of intellect?—­I cared nothing about her intellect.  What I wanted was youth and beauty; she was young and beautiful and I was sure of her.

“Yes; sure.  Her showy person, showy accomplishments, and showy manners dazzled all eyes but mine—­Of all the people about her, I alone found out what she really was; and in that lay the main secret of my influence over her.  I dreaded no rivalry.  Her father, prompted by his ambitious hopes, kept most young men of her class away from the house; the few who did come were not dangerous; they were as incapable of inspiring, as she was of feeling, real love.  Her mother still watched me, and still discovered nothing; still suspected me behind my back, and still trembled before my face.  Months passed on monotonously, year succeeded to year; and I bided my time as patiently, and kept my secret as cautiously as at the first.  No change occurred, nothing happened to weaken or alter my influence at North Villa, until the day arrived when Margaret left school and came home for good.

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“Exactly at the period to which I have referred, certain business transactions of great importance required the presence of Mr. Sherwin, or of some confidential person to represent him, at Lyons.  Secretly distrusting his own capabilities, he proposed to me to go; saying that it would be a pleasant trip for me, and a good introduction to his wealthy manufacturing correspondents.  After some consideration, I accepted his offer.