"It's I, Eva," her sister's voice breathed on the other side, "let me in, Rachel; for God's sake, let me in!"
Thoroughly alarmed, Rachel opened the door. The hall was dark and out of the night her sister, lovely and disheveled, almost fell into the room. In fact Rachel caught her to keep her from falling, and Eva's golden hair, like floss and very abundant, fell across her shoulder.
"Shut the door and lock it!" she whispered, with shaking lips.
Rachel locked it and her sister slipped out of her arms and threw herself into an old-fashioned, chintz-covered, winged chair that had belonged to their grandmother and was Rachel's favorite resting-place in happier moods. Eva cowered there, hiding her face against the high back. Her white silk kimono was covered with little pink butterflies and her bare feet were thrust into gold embroidered sandals, while her wonderful hair completed an alluring picture. Rachel stood looking at her in some amazement, a strange dread tugging at her heart.
"What has happened, Eva?" she asked at last; "are you frightened, or are you really ill or in pain?"
"I dare not tell you!"
Eva's voice was quite changed; the usual caressing tone was gone; it was almost harsh.
"I can't imagine what you mean," said Rachel.
Eva suddenly sat up, shaking back her beautiful hair. "You could never imagine it," she cried passionately, "you could never dream it. I've told a horrible lie about you. Rachel, I've taken away your good name."
"You're mad, quite mad!"