‘I only congratulate you on standing so well with every one.’

Lily hid her face in her hands.  At this moment Eleanor opened the door, saying, ‘Can you come down?  Mrs. Burnet is here.’  Eleanor went without observing Lily, and Emily was obliged to follow.  Jane lingered in order to comfort Lily.

‘You know she did not quite mean it,’ said she; ’she is only very much provoked.’

‘I know, I know,’ said Lily; ’she is very sorry herself by this time.  Of course she did not mean it, but it is the first unkind thing she ever said to me.  It is very silly, and very unjust to take it seriously, but I cannot help it.’

‘It is a very abominable shame,’ said Jane, ’and so I shall tell Emily.’

’No, do not, Jenny, I beg.  I know she thinks so herself, and grieves too much over it.  No wonder she is vexed.  All my faults have come upon her.  You had better go down, Jane; Mrs. Burnet is always vexed if she does not see a good many of us, and I am sure I cannot go.  Besides, Emily dislikes having that girl to entertain.’

’Lily, you are so very gentle and forgiving, that I wonder how any one can say what grieves you,’ said Jane, for once struck with admiration.

She went, and Lily remained, weeping over the injustice which she had forgiven, and feeling as if, all the time, it was fair that the rule of ‘love’ should, as it were, recoil upon her.  Her tears flowed fast, as she went over the long line of faults and follies which lay heavy on her conscience.  And Emily against her!  That sister who, from her infancy, had soothed her in every trouble, of whose sympathy she had always felt sure, whose gentleness had been her admiration in her days of sharp answers and violent temper, who had seemed her own beyond all the others; this wound from her gave Lily a bitter feeling of desertion and loneliness.  It was like a completion of her punishment—­the broken reed on which she leant had pierced her deeply.

She was still sitting on the side of her bed, weeping, when a slight tap at the door made her start—­a gentle tap, the sound of which she had learned to love in her illness.  The next moment Alethea stood before her, with outstretched arms.  This was a time to feel the value of such a friend, and every suspicion passing from her mind, she flew to Alethea, kissed her again and again, and laid her head on her shoulder.  Her caress was returned with equal warmth.

‘But how is this?’ said Alethea, now perceiving that her face was pale, and marked by tears.  ‘How is this, my dear Lily?’

’Oh, Alethea!  I cannot tell you, but it is all misery.  The full effect of my baneful principle has appeared!’

‘Has anything happened?’ exclaimed Alethea.

‘No,’ said Lily.  ’There is nothing new, except the—­Oh!  I cannot tell you.’

‘I wish I could do anything for you, my poor Lily,’ said Alethea.

‘You can look kind,’ said Lily, ’and that is a great comfort.  Oh!  Alethea, it was very kind of you to come and speak to me.  I shall do now—­I can bear it all better.  You have a comforting face and voice like nobody else.  When did you come?  Have you been in the drawing-room?’