“You have a weight preying on your mind, which alone causes the physical prostration under which you suffer,” continued Mrs. Truebody. “It will continue to keep you here unless prompt arrangements are made to alleviate it by some decided step on your part.”
Helen remained silent. Still, Mrs. Truebody went on—
“Have you a friend, Miss Grahame?” she asked; adding—“I do not mean a mere acquaintance, nor yet a relative, but a friend, in whom you can place the fullest confidence, and who would spare no exertion and faint not at trial and trouble to serve you. Speak, my child, for in truth it is a momentous question I ask of you.”
Helen faintly shook her head, and, in a feeble voice, replied—
“No, I have not—not one—now.”
The tears clustered in her eyes.
Mrs. Truebody gazed upon her sadly.
“You have need of one—sore need of one,” she said, gravely; “for you have some painful secret in your heart.”
There was a silence as of the grave.
Helen’s eyes looked into the dark shadow in her room, as though there she saw a phantom. She spoke not.