“Master, you didn’t know my sister. We HAD to give in--nobody could hold out against her. She was a strange woman--and a terrible woman in many ways--after her trouble. We were afraid to cross her for fear she would go out of her mind.” “But, could you not have taken Kilmeny to a doctor unknown to her mother?” “No, that was not possible. Margaret never let her out of her sight, not even when she was grown up. Besides, to tell you the whole truth, Master, we didn’t think ourselves that it would be much use to try to cure Kilmeny. It WAS a sin that made her as she is.” “Aunt Janet, how can you talk such nonsense? Where was there any sin? Your sister thought herself a lawful wife. If Ronald Fraser thought otherwise--and there is no proof that he did--HE committed a sin, but you surely do not believe that it was visited in this fashion on his innocent child!” “No, I am not meaning that, Master. That wasn’t where Margaret did wrong; and though I never liked Ronald Fraser over much, I must say this in his defence--I believe he thought himself a free man when he married Margaret. No, it’s something else--something far worse. It gives me a shiver whenever I think of it. Oh, Master, the Good Book is right when it says the sins of the parents are visited on the children. There isn’t a truer word in it than that from cover to cover.” “What, in heaven’s name, is the meaning of all this?” exclaimed Eric. “Tell me what it is. I must know the whole truth about Kilmeny. Do not torment me.” “I am going to tell you the story, Master, though it will be like opening an old wound. No living person knows it but Thomas and me. When you hear it you will understand why Kilmeny can’t speak, and why it isn’t likely that there can ever be anything done for her. She doesn’t know the truth and you must never tell her. It isn’t a fit story for her ears, especially when it is about her mother. Promise me that you will never tell her, no matter what may happen.” “I promise. Go on--go on,” said the young man feverishly. Janet Gordon locked her hands together in her lap, like a woman who nerves herself to some hateful task. She looked very old; the lines on her face seemed doubly deep and harsh. “My sister Margaret was a very proud, high-spirited girl, Master. But I would not have you think she was unlovable. No, no, that would be doing a great injustice to her memory. She had her faults as we all have; but she was bright and merry and warm-hearted. We all loved her. She was the light and life of this house. Yes, Master, before the trouble that came on her Margaret was a winsome lass, singing like a lark from morning till night. Maybe we spoiled her a little--maybe we gave her too much of her own way. “Well, Master, you have heard the story of her marriage to Ronald Fraser and what came after, so I need not go into that. I know, or used to know Elizabeth Williamson well, and I know that whatever she told you would be the truth and nothing more or less than the truth.