The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"I have brought you some supper," said she, in her silver tones. "I thought perhaps you would not care to come down."

"Oh, you did! You are very considerate," I said bitterly. "You did not come at all to triumph in the mischief you have made by your lies."

"Why, Vevette," said she, in a tone of astonishment; "what do you mean? I am sure I did not mean to do you any harm, but only to relieve my own mind. I can't endure to have secrets from my mother."

All at once Rosamond's ghost story darted into my mind. When the devil puts such a weapon into the hand of a person in a passion, that person is very apt to use it without thought of consequences.

"Oh, you cannot! Then perhaps you have told your mother of the pair of ghosts Rosamond saw disappear near Torden's cottage, one of which had on a gray homespun gown, and the other looked so much like young Mr. Lovel. I think I will tell Mr. Dawson about these ghosts, that he may keep a lookout for them, since he is so skilful in dealing with that sort of gentry."

Betty turned white, or rather gray, for a moment, and nearly let her tray fall. Then she recovered herself and said quietly—

"I don't think I would tell any more tales if I were you. You would not be likely to gain much credit just now. I came to make friends with you."

"That is false!" I interrupted her. "You came to triumph over me."

"I came to make friends with you," she continued calmly; "but if you choose to treat me as an enemy, you can do so. I pity you, Vevette, and I do not blame you as much as I do those who have brought you up in such ways. Your conduct just shows what that religion is worth of which we have heard so much."

In a quarrel, the person who has no conscience always has an advantage over the person who has one. Betty had certainly got the best of it in this case, notwithstanding the stab I had given her. I shut the door in her face, and again sat down to try to compose my thoughts, but I did not find it so easy. Revenge is like the little book of the prophet, in that though it may be sweet in the mouth it is very bitter of digestion. I had struck a telling blow, it was true, but I had gotten it back with interest, and the worst of it was that in this instance Betty had some truth on her side. I was a discredit to the parents who had brought me up, and the religion in which I had been educated. I had brought shame on my dear mother as well as myself.