“It was explained to me,” suddenly recurred to Helen, as a sentence Evangeline had uttered with some embarrassment. Then it flashed through her mind that she had found her _tête-à-tête_ with a young and handsome man, whose face she did not at the moment recognise--like as he was, in his general contour, to Lotte Clinton. A pang went to her heart. What! was not even her simple, innocent sister to be saved? She sat her down and questioned Eva closely; she elicited from her a confession of all the clandestine meetings she had granted to Charles Clinton with the purpose of learning tidings of her sister, or of obtaining guidance and counsel under the great affliction with which the whole household was overwhelmed. Helen wiped the clammy moisture from her brow and moistened her parched lips. She fixed her gaze upon Evangeline’s still crimsoned features and her downcast eyes, and then placing her cold hand upon her sister’s, and clutching it firmly, she said-- “Eva, you love this man!” A thousand thousand thoughts rushed through Eva’s mind. Love him! in truth she did with her whole heart, her whole soul! Her cheeks burned more fiercely than ever. She threw herself upon her sister’s neck and hid her face, but did not utter a word. Helen felt as if she should swoon away, but she conquered, by a powerful effort, her sudden sickening faintness, and releasing her sister’s arms from about her neck, she bade her be seated, and herself set the example. She again took Evangeline’s hand in her own, and pressed it.