By this time the ice in Miss Bull's nature had melted under the heat of her indignation. She walked hurriedly up and down the room, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. George was pleased to see this, as he thought she was the more likely to tell the truth when thus moved by emotion than if she had remained calm. Miss Bull was so angered by the memory of her wrongs that she struck her hand against the mantelpiece so as to inflict pain. The shock seemed to nerve her, for she drew a long breath and returned to her seat. With her eyes fixed, on George she began abruptly. "Violet has told her story," she said, "now I will tell you mine. I want to know, however, exactly what she said, in the exact words if you can remember them." "I did not hear her speak," confessed George; "it was my grandfather and Mr. Ireland to whom she told the story." "Story! Fable! Lie! Romance!" said Miss Bull, vehemently. "Well, tell me what you can remember!" This George did as concisely as possible, for he feared lest Margery should interrupt the interview. Miss Bull listened with a downcast face and pursed-up lips. Not a word did she say, but when George ended she looked up with a bitter smile. "She has simply put herself in my place," she said. "Wait!" For a moment or so she tried to compose herself. Then she raised her head and looked her visitor squarely in the eyes. "I am going to tell the truth," said Miss Bull, bravely, "therefore I have no need to shun your gaze. Mr. Brendon, I loved your father." "So Mrs. Ward said." "And Violet loved him also." "He must have been a singularly attractive man," remarked Brendon, wondering at this revelation. "My mother eloped with him; her maid was in love with him, and now you and Mrs. Ward----" "Oh, Violet really did not love him. It was simply a desire to take him from me that made her behave as she did. Violet never loved any one in her life, save the person she sees in the mirror every day. A selfish woman, Mr. Brendon, and a wicked one." This was no news to George, so he strove to coax her to tell him that which he wished to know. "I don't quite understand, but if you will relate the story----" "I shall do so at once. You may as well know all, and know also what a bad woman I have for a sister. If she was dying," cried Miss Bull, vehemently, "I wouldn't raise a finger to save her life." "We should forgive our enemies," hinted George. "I can't forgive her. I never will forgive her. She ruined my life, George Brendon, she ruined my life." Brendon said nothing, and in a few moments Miss Bull composed herself sufficiently to tell what she knew. "My father was General Howard," she said quietly, "and Violet was my only sister. We never got on well together. Violet was jealous of admiration, and as I was said to be prettier than she was she hated me intensely. Whenever any one liked me Violet would do her best to take him away from me." "I can quite believe that," said George, recalling Mrs. Ward's arts.