'Even of earthquakes? No, Alec, she has told me nothing. They've got into the habit of talking--she and Effie and the painter man--as if I was asleep. You see I lie about a good deal by the fireside, and I don't want to talk, and so I lie with my eyes shut and listen. Then Armorel leaves everything about--manuscript poems, sketches, letters--everything, and I read them. A companion, of course, must see that her ward is not getting into mischief. It is her duty to read private letters. When they talk in the evening, Effie, who worships Armorel, tells her everything, including your magnificent attempt to become a dramatic poet, my dear boy--wrong--wrong--you should not get more than one ghost from one family. You should not put all your ghosts into one basket. When the painter comes--Armorel is in love with him, and he is in love with her; but he has been a naughty boy, and has to show true repentance before.... Oh! It's very pretty and sentimental: they play the fiddle and talk about Scilly and the old times, and Effie sighs with sympathy. It is really very pretty, especially as it all helped me to understand their ghostlinesses and to unravel the whole story. Fortunately, my dear Alec, you have had to do with a girl who is not of the ordinary society stamp, otherwise your story would have been given to the society papers long ago, and then even I could have done nothing for you. Armorel is a girl of quite extinct virtues--forbearing, unrevengeful, honourable, unselfish. You, my dear Alec, could never appreciate or understand such a girl.' 'The girl is--a girl. What is there to understand in one girl more than in another?' 'Nothing--nothing. O great Poet and greater Painter!--Nothing. O man of fine insight, and delicate fancy, and subtle intellect!--Nothing. Only a girl.' 'I know already that they are not going to say anything more about it. They are going to let the whole business be forgotten. If anything comes out through you----' 'Nothing will come out. I told you because it is well that we should perfectly understand each other. You will never again be able to parade before me in the disguise of genius. This is a great pity, because you have always enjoyed playing the part. Never again, Alec, because I have found you out. Should you ever find me out, I shall not be able to walk with you in the disguise of ... but you must find out first.' 'What do you mean?' 'Oh! you must find out first. When you do find out, you will be able to hold out your arms and cry, "We are alike at last. You have come down to my level: we are now in the same depths. Come to my arms, sister in pretence! Come, my bride!"' She spread out her arms with an exaggerated gesture and laughed, but not mirthfully. 'What on earth do you mean, Zoe? I never saw you like this before.' 'No, we change sometimes, quite suddenly. It is very unaccountable. And now I shall never be anything else than what I am now--what you have made me.' 'What have you done, then?'