She ran to the window and looked out. She could see nothing. Could it be a runaway horse? Was somebody ill? The flying feet turned abruptly and made for the rear of the house, then paused suddenly. There was a furious knocking.
Magdaléna's knees shook with a swift presentiment. Something had happened—was going to happen—to her. She stood holding her breath. Someone ran softly but swiftly up the stair, and down the hall, to her room. She knew then who it was, and ran forward and opened the door.
"Helena!" she exclaimed. "What is the matter? Something has—Mr. Trennahan—"
Helena flung herself upon Magdaléna and burst into a passion of weeping. Magdaléna stood rigid, ice in her veins. "Is he dead?" she managed to ask.
"No! He isn't. I wish he were—No, I don't mean that—I'll tell you in a minute—Let me get through first!"
Magdaléna dragged her shaking limbs across the room and felt for a chair. Helena began pacing rapidly up and down, pushing the chairs out of her way.
"Would you like a light?" asked Magdaléna.
"No, thanks; I don't want to be eaten alive with mosquitoes. Oh, how shall I begin? I suppose you think we've had a commonplace quarrel. I wish we had. I swear to you, 'Léna, that up to to-night I loved him—yes, I know that I did! I was rather sorry I'd promised to marry so soon, for I like being a girl, not really belonging to anyone but myself, and I love being a great belle, and I think that I should have begged for another year—but I loved him better than anyone, and I really intended to marry him—"
"Aren't you going to marry him?"
"Don't be so stern, 'Léna! You don't know all yet. Lately I've been alone with him a great deal, and you know how you talk about yourselves in those circumstances. I had told him everything I had ever done and thought—most; had turned myself inside out. Then I made him talk. Up to a certain point he was fluent enough; then he shut up like a clam. I never was very curious about men; but because he was all mine, or perhaps because I didn't have anything else to think about, I made up my mind he should come to confession. He fought me off, but you know I have a way of getting what I want—if I don't there's trouble; and to-night I pulled his past life out of him bit by bit. 'Léna! he's had liaisons with married women; he's kept house with women; he's seen the worst life of every city! For a few years—he confessed it in so many words—he was one of the maddest men in Europe. The actual things he told me only in part; but you know I have the instincts of the devil. 'Léna, he's a human slum, and I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!"