"But, my dearest Helen—" (N.B. from Miss Denis to Helen, from Helen to my dearest Helen, had been a rapid transition)—"Is not your uncle very" mad, he was going to say, but changed it to the word "odd?"
"Very, very odd; indeed, more than odd, poor man, but he was very good to me. I am fond of my cousins, especially Dido. Katie is going to marry her cousin Barry."
"Unhappy Katie!" in a tone of profound commiseration. "Tell me, Helen, has that ill-conditioned Orson ever dared to make love to you?"
"Never mind—I detest him—in fact, it is to prove that he is a coward, that I am here now. He defied me to come up here, and cut my name on this gate. See, I have got as far as H."
"I see! and it is hardly worth your while to add the D," he added, significantly. "Before very long you will have another initial. And why did Mr. Barry Sheridan defy you to cut your monogram on this gate?"
"Because it is said to be haunted by Dillon's ghost! No one ventures here after dusk."
"Indeed! Do you know that I came across your ghost in Terryscreen yesterday; a market girl who is your double. When I saw her I felt that it was a good omen, that you and I would be face to face ere long."
"Yes, and you were kind enough to toss her a sovereign—here it is," now producing it; "it has been burning a hole in my pocket ever since. Yes," in answer to his stare of incredulity, "I may as well confess to you at once, that it was not my double that you saw, but myself. You may well look amazed. Did I not play my part to perfection?"
"Inimitably—but why?"
"We," with a backward wave of her hand, "are miserably poor! Uncle's inventions absorb all the money. Darby, the steward, is a thief, and Dido has nothing to look to but the garden; every week she sends a cart to market, and it is the mainstay of the housekeeping. Sally, the dairy-maid, was laid up—I took her place."