“That your unnatural sister will tell you herself,” Helena’s voice added. She had opened the door while we were too much absorbed in our talk to hear her.
Selina attempted to leave the room. I caught her by the hand, and held her back. I was afraid of what I might do if she left me by myself. Never have I felt anything like the rage that tortured me, when I saw Helena looking at us with the same wicked smile on her lips that had insulted me when we met on the stairs. “Have we anything to be ashamed of?” I said to Selina. “Stay where you are.”
“You may be of some use, Miss Jillgall, if you stay,” my sister suggested. “Eunice seems to be trembling. Is she angry, or is she ill?”
The sting of this was in the tone of her voice. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life—but I did succeed in controlling myself.
“Go on with what you have to say,” I answered, “and don’t notice me.”
“You are not very polite, my dear, but I can make allowances. Oh, come! come! putting up your hands to stop your ears is too childish. You would do better to express regret for having misled your father. Yes! you did mislead him. Only a few days since, you left him to suppose that you were engaged to Philip. It became my duty, after that, to open his eyes to the truth; and if I unhappily provoked him, it was your fault. I was strictly careful in the language I used. I said: ‘Dear father, you have been misinformed on a very serious subject. The only marriage engagement for which your kind sanction is requested, is my engagement. I have consented to become Mrs. Philip Dunboyne.’”
“Stop!” I said.
“Why am I to stop?”
“Because I have something to say. You and I are looking at each other. Does my face tell you what is passing in my mind?”
“Your face seems to be paler than usual,” she answered—“that’s all.”