“Margotte was sick, and Yulah took her place. She had been there once as a patient, mad herself, from some great wrong done to her by one she loved and trusted. Her baby had died there, and been buried in the grounds, and she was attached to the place, and after her cure, staid from choice, and was nurse and attendant both, and the most faithful and vigilant of them all, and the one the doctor trusted the most. So he put me in her charge, and the moment I saw her sweet, sad face, and looked into her eyes, which seemed always ready to run over with tears, I loved her, and put my tired head in her lap, and cried like a child. “‘_Qu’avez vous, petite Myra?_’ she said, and then I knew she spoke French, and my heart gave a great bound, for I knew I could talk with her a little, and I mustered all my knowledge of the language and told her I was not Myra at all; I was Rosamond Hastings, from America; shut up, detained there unlawfully, for what reason I did not know; that I had written and written home and nobody had answered me, and the doctor said my brother, who came with me, was dead, but I did not believe it; and a great deal more, to which she listened patiently, as one might listen to the meaningless prattle of a child. “But when I mentioned brother’s name, she sprang to her feet and shaking me off asked fiercely, ‘_votre frère, comment s’appelle-t-il?_’ I told her again, ‘Dr. Matthewson; Dr. John Matthewson, from America,’ and for a few moments she acted as if she were perfectly insane, and glaring at me with her terrible eyes, she spit upon me and demanded, ‘You are sure you are his sister? You are nothing else to him, though that is bad enough?’ “I made her believe at last, and then she asked me so many questions that before I knew it I had told her all about the Forrest House, and the will, and Everard, and everything, she all the time looking straight at me with her great bright eyes, which seemed to be reading me to see if I were telling the truth. “‘I see, I see, I understand. Poor child, God sent me here to be your friend, and I will!’ she said, when I had finished; and then she broke out angrily against my brother, whom she called a villain, a murderer, a rascal, and said he had done her a terrible wrong, which she had sworn to avenge, and she saw a way by which she could keep her word. “‘I go to America myself, but what your friends shall know,’ she said, and to my great delight she spoke to me now in English, but whispered very low. ‘It is better they not to know I can talk in your tongue, and they not suspect; and I must be very strict, watch you very much is my order, because you dangerous, you try to kill yourself, he say, and I never let you from my sight. But I fix ’em. I cheat. I have my revenge much. You will see what I do.’”