"I suppose Katie has told you all about me?"
"Yes, poor Dido! it was a hard, hard case," replied Helen, gently taking her hand.
Dido sighed, and nodded her head, and then remarked, in quite a cheerful voice, "I try not to think of it—it could not be helped."
An unusually long silence succeeded this speech, and at last Helen said, "What I am going to tell you, Dido, I have never spoken of before, not even to papa. I have never put my—my—experience—into words—yet. I wonder very much how it will sound, both to you, and me. No! You must not gaze at me like that, or I shall never be able to tell it. Look out of the window and listen. Dido," lowering her voice to a whisper, "you were right about Mr. Lisle."
"Yes," nodding her head with quick assent.
"You know everything about my life out there, all excepting—that. He was at the Andamans when I arrived, but I did not meet him for a month or more. He lived far away on the mainland—he did not go into society; and because he was silent and shabby, people thought he was an impostor, or some needy adventurer, or that he was hiding from his creditors—if not worse—so he was a kind of social outlaw."
"What! Mr. Lisle, with his thousands a year!" cried her listener in a key of angry astonishment.
"Yes; and he never undeceived any one—I suppose he was laughing in his sleeve all the time. He told me once that he rather enjoyed living in the Palace of Truth, and being valued for his appearance alone,—and rated according to his wardrobe! especially his hat!"
"And when did you meet him?"
"We met one evening, on a kind of savage coast, where I was accidentally deserted by a picnic party. I was nearly mad with fright, and luckily for me, Mr. Lisle's boat was passing, and he saw me, and took me off. On our way home we came in for an awful storm; over and over again I thought we should have been drowned, but after the most dreadful hour I ever spent, he landed me safely on Ross pier."