"Emily and I owed everything to her! She was as near being a mother to us as any one could be; and Camilla could not say enough of gratitude, or show esteem enough, and fascinated her like all the rest of us; but she never rested till she had got her off to a situation in Russia. I did not perceive the game at the time, but I see now how all the proposals for situations within reach of me were quashed." "But you write to her?" "Yes; but as soon as I showed any of my troubles she reproved me for self-will and wanting to judge for myself, and not submit to my sister. That's the way with all at Rockpier. Camilla has gone about pitying me to them for having to give way to my married sister, but saying it was quite time that she took charge of us; and on that notion they all wrote to me. Then she persuaded papa to go abroad; and I was delighted, little thinking she never meant me to go back again." "Did she not?" "Listen! I've heard her praise Rockpier and its church to the skies to one person--say Mr. Bindon. To another, such as our own Vicar, she says it was much too ultra, and she likes moderation; she tells your father that she wants to see papa among his old friends; and to Mrs. Duncombe, I've heard her go as near the truth as is possible to her, and call it a wearisome place, with an atmosphere of incense, curates, and old maids, from whom she had carried me off before I grew fit for nothing else!" "I dare say all these are true in turn, or seem so to her, or she would not say them before you." "She has left off trying to gloss it over with me, except so far as it is part of her nature. She did at first, but she knows it is of no use now." "Really, Lenore, you must be going too far." "I have shocked you; but you can't conceive what it is to live with perpetual falsity. No, I can't use any other word. I am always mistrusting and being angered, and my senses of right and wrong get so confused, that it is like groping in a maze." Her eyes were full of tears, but she exclaimed, "Tell me, Joanna, was there ever anything between Camilla and Mr. Poynsett?" "Why bring that up again now?" "Why did it go off?" insisted Lenore. "Because Mrs. Poynsett could not give up and turn into a dowager, as if she were not the mistress herself." "Was that all?" "So it was said." "I want to get to the bottom of it. It was not because Lord Tyrrell came in the way." "I am afraid they thought so here." "Then," said Eleonora, in a hard, dry way, "I know the reason of our being brought back here, and of a good deal besides." "My dear Lena, I am very sorry for you; but I think you had better keep this out of your mind, or you will fall into a hard, bitter, suspicious mood." "That is the very thing. I am in a hard, bitter, suspicious mood, and I can't see how to keep out of it; I don't know when opposition is right and firm, and when it is only my own self-will."