"Really, Mildred, I saw nothing hateful about you. On the contrary, if you want the plain truth, I greatly prefer you in a cheerful, common-sense mood, as you were then, even if your high spirits do lead you into a little too much frivolity. I think it a more wholesome, and therefore ultimately a more useful, frame of mind than this causeless depression, which leads you to take such a morbid, exaggerated view of things." Every word pierced Milly's heart with a double pang. "You liked her better than me?" she asked, piteously. "Yet I've always tried to be just what you wanted me to be, Aunt Beatrice, to do everything you thought right, and she--Oh, it's too awful!" "What do you mean, Mildred?" "I mean that the person you prefer to me as I am now, the person who was here in March, wasn't I at all." The fine healthy carnation of Lady Thomson's cheek paled. In her calm, rapid way she at once found the explanation of Milly's unhealthy, depressed appearance and manner. Poor Mildred Stewart was insane. Beyond the paling of her cheek, however, Lady Thomson allowed no sign of shock to be visible in her. "That's an exaggerated way of talking," she replied. "I suppose you mean your mood was different." Milly was looking straight in front of her with haggard eyes. "No; it simply wasn't I at all. You believe in the Bible, don't you?" "Not in verbal inspiration, of course, but in a general way, yes," returned Lady Thomson, puzzled but guarded. "Do you believe in the demoniacs? In possession by evil spirits?" Milly was not looking at vacancy now. Her desperate hands clutched the arms of her chair, as she leaned forward and fixed her aunt with hollow eyes, awaiting her reply. "Certainly not! Most certainly not! They were obviously cases of epilepsy and insanity, misinterpreted by an ignorant age." "No--it's all true, quite literally true. Three times, and for six months or more each time, I have been possessed by a spirit that cannot be good. I know it's not. It takes my body, it takes the love of people I care for, away from me--" Milly's voice broke and she pressed her handkerchief over her face. "You all think her--But she's bad, and some day she'll do something wicked--something that will break my heart, and you'll all insist it was I who did it, and you'll believe I'm a wicked woman." Lady Thomson looked very grave. "Mildred, dear," she said, "try and collect yourself. It is really wicked of you to give way to such terrible fancies. Would God permit such a thing to happen to one of His children? We feel sure He would not."