"To do so, we must understand one another," said Dora; "you must tell me all." "I shall do so," cried Mrs. Tice energetically--"yes. Hitherto I have said nothing, out of consideration for your feelings. Now I shall tell you why Captain Carew--your father, my dear--hated Mr. Edermont so deeply. But first let me hear what your mother revealed. I may be able to relate those things which she kept hidden from you." Thus adjured to confess, Dora related the story of the past, as told to her by Lady Burville--she could not bear even to think of her as "mother." Mrs. Tice listened in severe silence, only nodding her head now and then at some special point in the story. When Dora concluded, she sat quiet for two minutes, then gravely delivered herself of her opinion. "I see that you do not look upon this woman as a mother, my dear young lady," she said solemnly, "and you are right to do so. May I speak plainly?" "As plainly as you like, Mrs. Tice. I have no filial feeling for the mother who deserted me, and left her helpless child to be brought up by a stranger." "Mr. Dargill was scarcely a stranger," corrected Mrs. Tice: "he was your mother's second husband, as she told you. Oh, heavens! you are quite right! Mrs. Carew, as I knew her, was always a light-headed, selfish woman, given over to vanity and pleasure. She cared only for money and idleness, and I'll be bound she was only too glad to get rid of you, so as to give herself a chance of a third marriage as an unencumbered widow. Yet what she came through would have sobered many a woman. But there, Mrs. Carew was always a feeble, frail coquette. She loved only one thing in the world then, and she loves only one thing now--herself." "Was what she told me true?" "Oh yes; the tale she told is true enough, but it is trimmed and cut to suit her own ends. She was ashamed to tell you everything, I suppose. A wicked woman she is, Miss Carew, for all that she is your mother. Owing to her coquetry and love of money, poor Mr. Dargill came to his end as surely as if she had killed him herself." "We don't know that yet," said Dora thoughtfully. "Remember, it was not her first husband who killed him." "That is true," assented Mrs. Tice. "Nevertheless, I can think of no other person who had an interest in your guardian's death. But I had best tell you my story, Miss Carew, and you can judge for yourself." "Will your story enable me to discover the real murderer?" "I don't say that," replied Mrs. Tice reluctantly; "as I said before, you must judge for yourself." She took her spectacles off and laid them on the table; then, folding her mittened hands on her lap, she began the amended version of that story which Lady Burville had told to Dora. The missing portion, supplied by the memory of the housekeeper, was by far the most exciting episode of the tale.