“I do not think you believe me,” said Bee. “I am not out of my mind, as you think. It is Miss Lance--Miss Laura Lance--the same, the very same, that--and I have written, and she will be coming here.” “This is very strange,” said Mrs. Leigh. “It does not seem possible to believe it. The same--who came between Aubrey and you? Oh, I never meant to name him, I was never to name him; but how can I help it? Laura, who was the trouble of his house--who would not leave him--who went to your father? And now your father! I cannot understand it. I cannot believe that it is true.” “It is true,” said Bee. “But, Mrs. Leigh, you forget that no one cared then, except myself; they have forgotten all that now, they have forgotten what happened. It was only my business, it was not their business. All that has gone from papa; he remembers nothing about it. And she is a witch, she is a magician, she is a devil--oh, please forgive me, forgive me--I don’t know what I am saying. It has all been growing, one thing after another--first me--and then Charlie--and then papa--and then Betty. And now, after bringing him almost to death and destruction, here is Charlie, in this house, calling for her, raging with me till I wrote to call her--me!” cried Bee, with a sort of indignant eloquence. “Me! Could it go further than that? Could anything be more than that? Me!--and in this house.” “My dear child,” said Mrs. Leigh, “I don’t wonder, I don’t wonder--it is like something in a tragedy. Oh, Bee! Forgive me for what is first in my thoughts. Was she the reason, the only reason, for your breach with my poor Aubrey? For at first you stood by him--and then you turned upon him.” “Do not ask me any more questions, please. I am not able to answer anything. Isn’t it enough that all these things have happened through this woman, and that she is coming here?” Mrs. Leigh made no further question. She saw that the girl’s excitement was almost beyond her control, and that her young mind was strained to its utmost. She said, half to herself, “I must think. I cannot tell in a moment what to do. I must send for Aubrey. It is his duty and mine to let it go no further. You must try to compose yourself, my dear, and trust us. Oh, Bee,” there were tears in her eyes as she came up to the girl and kissed her, “if you could but have trusted us--in all things! I don’t think you ever would have repented.” But Bee did not make any response. Her hands were cold and her head hot. She was wrapt in a strange passion and confusion of human chaos and bewilderment--everything gone wrong--all the elements of life twisted the perverse way; nothing open, nothing clear. She was incapable of any simple, unmingled feeling in that confusion and medley of everything going wrong.