"It is nearly always the same thing; and yet their conduct toward me is strange. It often seems to me incomprehensible, as it is so marked with peculiarities. There are moments in which they seem to love me dearly. My father especially caresses and embraces me, and then all at once, I know not why, repulses me rudely, and looks at me in a way that causes me to shudder."
"That is indeed strange, Ellen."
"Is it not? There is one thing above all I cannot explain."
"Tell it me, Ellen; perhaps I can do so."
"You know that all my family are Protestants?"
"Yes."
"Well, I am a Catholic."
"That is certainly curious."
"I wear around my neck a small golden crucifix. Every time accident makes this trinket glisten before my father and mother they grow furious, threaten to beat me, and order me to hide it at once. Do you understand the meaning of this, Harry?"
"No, I do not, Ellen; but, believe me, leave everything to time; perhaps it will enable us to find the clue to the mystery which we seek in vain at this moment."