I knew that a whiteness was creeping over my lips as I uttered the words, and I felt a thrill of disgust pass over Jessie. "She is here." The bitter distress in her voice told me all that was in her heart. But it was a subject we could not speak upon. "I have done everything in my power to send her away; but she will understand no hint, and I have no right to take decisive steps while my parents both like her so much." "Both?" I questioned. "Yes; I think so. Mother seemed pleased to have her in the room." "And is she much there?" I questioned, faintly. "Yes, very often, and for hours together." "Alone?" I inquired, starting from my pillow and falling back from weakness. "Seldom--never, I think. Father is generally with them, and Lottie--what a dear, faithful creature she is!--will never leave the room. If they drive her out, she is sure to retreat into her own little den and will leave the door ajar." "Faithful, good Lottie!" I murmured. Jessie kissed me and said, with mournful lovingness, that I must not talk, for I was all the friend she had to stand by her. She hesitated a moment and added, "Except, of course, my parents." Obedient to her gentle command, I closed my eyes; but the anxieties that had taken flight in temporary insanity crowded back upon me, and my poor brain labored fearfully under them. Was I right--knowing what I knew, and thinking what I thought--to keep anything back from Jessie? I had been so in the habit of mingling Mrs. Dennison's acts with those of Mr. Lee, that it seemed impossible to separate them, or speak of her without condemning him, at least by implication. I could not do this with his own child; for it was very doubtful if Jessie's entire and now very evident dislike of the woman had not sprung exclusively from the course she had taken with Lawrence. By word or look she had never given a sign of any other thought. After pondering over these things in my mind, I remembered that, after all, Mr. Lee was not connected with anything I knew, except in my own suspicions; and even then I was not base enough to impute a wrong motive, much less a wrong act to him. Why should I fear, then, to speak openly to Jessie? While chained to that pillow--as I must be for days to come--who could guard Mrs. Lee as well as her own daughter? While these reflections passed through my brain, Jessie had been sitting motionless on the bed, afraid to move lest she might disturb the sleep into which she fancied me to have fallen. When I opened my eyes, she smiled down upon me. "You have been a little troubled with dreams, I fear," she said, smoothing the hair back from my temples. "No, Jessie; I have not been asleep, but thinking. Lie down here on my pillow; I want to tell you something."