In vain Christie begged Harry not to report these things, in vain she hinted that Bella had better not come to show herself to Helen night after night in all the dainty splendor of her youth and beauty; in vain she asked Mrs. Carrol to let her go away to some quieter place with Helen, since she never could be persuaded to join in any gayety at home or abroad. All seemed wilful, blind, or governed by the fear of the gossiping world. So the days rolled on till an event occurred which enlightened Christie, with startling abruptness, and showed her the skeleton that haunted this unhappy family. Going in one morning to Helen she found her walking to and fro as she often walked of late, with hurried steps and excited face as if driven by some power beyond her control. “Good morning, dear. I’m so sorry you had a restless night, and wish you had sent for me. Will you come out now for an early drive? It’s a lovely day, and your mother thinks it would do you good,” began Christie, troubled by the state in which she found the girl. But as she spoke Helen turned on her, crying passionately: “My mother! don’t speak of her to me, I hate her!” “Oh, Helen, don’t say that. Forgive and forget if she has displeased you, and don’t exhaust yourself by brooding over it. Come, dear, and let us soothe ourselves with a little music. I want to hear that new song again, though I can never hope to sing it as you do.” “Sing!” echoed Helen, with a shrill laugh, “you don’t know what you ask. Could you sing when your heart was heavy with the knowledge of a sin about to be committed by those nearest to you? Don’t try to quiet me, I must talk whether you listen or not; I shall go frantic if I don’t tell some one; all the world will know it soon. Sit down, I’ll not hurt you, but don’t thwart me or you’ll be sorry for it.” Speaking with a vehemence that left her breathless, Helen thrust Christie down upon a seat, and went on with an expression in her face that bereft the listener of power to move or speak. “Harry has just told me of it; he was very angry, and I saw it, and made him tell me. Poor boy, he can keep nothing from me. I’ve been dreading it, and now it’s coming. You don’t know it, then? Young Butler is in love with Bella, and no one has prevented it. Think how wicked when such a curse is on us all.” The question, “What curse?” rose involuntarily to Christie’s lips, but did not pass them, for, as if she read the thought, Helen answered it in a whisper that made the blood tingle in the other’s veins, so full of ominous suggestion was it.