To outward seeming, all was as before. And, though every thought of Dr Justin hurt her, it was chiefly because of her own treachery to Eunice, as she angrily called it. And so a few days passed, and she grew afraid of the dull, persistent pain at last, and said--"I will speak to Eunice." CHAPTER ELEVEN. A SAD REALITY. So one afternoon, when Eunice had gone to her room to rest, Fidelia followed her softly. As she paused a moment at the door, wondering if she were asleep, Eunice said-- "I see you, Fidelia; come in." So Fidelia went in, and, as she stood over her sister, her trouble showed in her face. "What is it, dear? Are you not well?" "Yes, I am well. But I am naughty, Eunice, and discontented, as I used sometimes to be when I was a little girl, and you used to send me away for a change." "Well, I am going to send you away again--too soon for my own pleasure; but, since it will be for your good, my darling, I must let you go." "I hope it may be for my good, Eunice. I am not good, but I will try to be good." "Fidelia, what is it? Something troubles you. Why, you are trembling! Are you cold? Sit down here beside me, and tell me what is the matter." "Well, we must speak softly, or we shall have Mrs Stone in upon us. Yes, I want to speak to you, and I have been trying to `dodge' her all day. I hardly ever get you to myself now--not at the right time, when I have something to say." Fidelia spoke rapidly, as though she hardly considered what she was saying. "Is that the trouble, dear? I am sorry," said Eunice, gravely. "You needn't be sorry. Aunt Ruby is not the trouble. I am glad she is here." "Well, dear, tell me. You are making me anxious." "Something is the matter, Eunice. I do feel troubled. I feel as if there were something--something that I ought to be told. If you say there is nothing, Eunice, that will be enough." Eunice sat for a long time without a word, and Fidelia was saying to herself-- "When she has told me, I shall be able to forget these last few miserable days, and be as I was before. It is a bad dream, that is all, and I must forget it." "Yes, I will tell you. I have always wished to tell you. It is best, I am sure; and, though I may give you pain, you will be glad afterwards." "Yes," said Fidelia faintly--"glad afterwards." "Fidelia, I may tell you now how unhappy I was for a time last year. Not unhappy exactly, but anxious and afraid--" "And you sent me away?" "Yes, dear, as was best. And when you came home, the worst was nearly over. Dr Everett came next day and gave me hope, and then Dr Justin came, and I was not afraid any more. He seemed to know--to understand better even than Dr Everett. Oh, Fidelia, I never can tell you the thankfulness of my heart! I wonder I didn't sing it out to you a hundred times. But they seemed to think it was best not to say anything to you, as I had not spoken before. But I am glad to speak now, though I am afraid you will be startled."