‘Yes,’ the girl went on, ‘your darling, whom you have brought up out of the reach of evil, who was always so gentle, and so quiet, and so good. I know—I remember how I have heard people speak of me. I was called Ombra because I was such a shadowy, still creature, too gentle to make a noise. Oh! how often I have heard that I was good; until I was tempted. If I were tempted to murder anybody, perhaps I should be capable of it. I feel half like it sometimes now.’
Mrs. Anderson laid her hand peremptorily on her daughter’s arm.
‘This is monstrous!’ she said. ‘Ombra, you have talked yourself into a state of excitement. I will not be sorry for you any longer. It is mere madness, and it must be brought to a close.’
‘It is not madness!’ she cried—‘I wish it were. I sometimes hope it will come to be. It is temper!—temper! and I hate it! And I cannot struggle against it. Every time he goes near her—every time she speaks to him! Oh! it must be some devil, do you think—like the devils in the Bible—that has got possession of me?’
‘Ombra, you are ill—you must go to bed,’ said her mother. ‘Why do you shake your head? You will wear yourself into a fever; and what is to become of me? Think a little of me. I have troubles, too, though they are not like yours. Try to turn your mind, dear, from what vexes you, and sympathise with me. Think what an unpleasant surprise to me to see that disagreeable old man; and that he should have come to-day, of all days; and the interview I shall have to undergo to-morrow——’
‘Mamma,’ said Ombra, with reproof in her tone, ‘how strange it is that you should think of such trifles. What is he to you? A man whom you care nothing for—whom we have nothing to do with.’
‘My dear,’ said Mrs. Anderson, with eyes steadily fixed upon her daughter, ‘I have told you before it is for Kate’s sake.’
‘Oh! Kate!’ Ombra made a gesture of impatience. In her present mood, she could not bear her cousin’s name. But her mother had been thinking over many things during this long afternoon, which had been so gay, and dragged so heavily. She had considered the whole situation, and had made up her mind, so far as it was practicable, to a certain course of action. Neither for love’s sake, nor for many other considerations, could she spare Kate. Even Ombra’s feelings must yield, though she had been so indiscreet even as to contemplate the idea of sacrificing Kate for Ombra’s feelings. But now she had thought better of it, and had made up her mind to take it for granted that Ombra too could only feel as a sister to Kate.
‘Ombra, you are warped and unhappy just now; you don’t do justice either to your cousin or yourself. But even at this moment, surely you cannot have thrown aside everything; you cannot be devoid of all natural feeling for Kate.’
‘I have no natural feeling,’ she said, hoarsely. ‘Have not I told you so? I would not allow myself to say it till you put it into my head. But, mamma, it is true. I want her out of my way. Oh! you need not look so horrified; you thought so yourself this morning. From the first, I felt she was in my way. She deranged all our plans—she came between you and me. Let her go! she is richer than we are, and better off. Why should she stay here, interfering with our life? Let her go! I want her out of my way!’