The shock over, the reality confirmed, The Yellow Typhoon gathered her shattered forces. She folded her arms, and her body seemed to expand.
"Hilda!... Well, why not? I knew that if I returned to New York our paths would cross again. I did not will it. But what will be will be. Always meddling, always trying to thwart me!"
"Yes, Berta; the same old Hilda, always bearing the brunt of your misdeeds, always sacrificing herself to shield you ... to save the mother a hurt. For what I did never hurt her; she loved you, tolerated me. And the bitter irony of it all lies in the fact that she would have stood away from you but for my sacrifices, which misled her. Yes, I am Hilda."
"You!" rasped Berta. "It was you, then, who wore that kimono! You, turned Yankee swine!"
"I, who have sworn loyalty to the land you would betray. I tried to save you, but you would not have it."
"Save me? On the contrary, your safety depends upon my good nature. I hold you and this mollycoddle in the palm of my hand. Take care!"
"You never could frighten me, Berta. You know that. Eight years! Do you realize that you have been dead eight years?"
"There are many kinds of death—some of our own choosing," said Berta, insolently.
"I mean the dead who never more return. Eight years ago the mother and I buried you in Greenwood."
"What?" explosively. "What are you telling me?"