which we cannot very well discuss." Then
a bold thought came to her, and without weighing it she
put it into words. The answer might put everything
definitely--so definitely--at an end.

"Mr. Kendal went to remonstrate with you, too, didn't
he? It must have been very troublesome and embarrassing--"

Janet stopped. Elfrida had turned paler, and her eyes
greatened with excitement. "_No,_" she said, "I did not
see Mr. Kendal. What do you mean? Tell me!"

"Perhaps I have no right. But he told me that he had seen
you, at Cheynemouth."

"He must have been in the audience," Elfrida returned,
in a voice that was hardly audible.

"Perhaps."

For a moment there was silence between them--a natural
silence, and no dumbness. They had forgotten about
themselves in the absorption of other thoughts.

"I must go," Elfrida said, with an effort; rising. What
had come to her with this thing Janet had told her? Why
had she this strange fullness in the beating of her heart,
this sense, part of shame, part of fright, part of
happiness, that had taken possession of her? What had
become of her strained feeling about Janet? For it had
gone, gone utterly, and with it all her pride, all her
self-control. She was conscious only of a great need of
somebody's strength, of somebody's thought and interest
--of Janet's. Yet how could she unsay anything? She held
out her hand, and Janet took it. "Good-by, then," she
said.

"Good-by; I hope you will escape the rain." But at the
door Elfrida turned and came back. Janet was mechanically
stirring the coals in the grate.

"Listen!" she said. "I want to tell you something about
myself."

Janet looked up with an inward impatience. She knew these
little repentant self-revealings so well.

"I know I'm a beast--I can't help it. Ever since I heard
of your success I've been hating it! You can laugh if
you like, but I've been _jealous_--oh, I'm not deceived;
very well, we are acquainted, myself and I! It's pure
jealousy--I admit it. I despise it, but there it is. You
have everything; you succeed in _all_ the things you
do--you suffocate me--do you understand? _Always_ the
first place, always the attention, the consideration,
wherever we go together. And your pretence--your _lie_
--of believing my work as good as yours! I believe it
--yes, I do, but you _do not_. Oh, I know you through
and through, Janet Cardiff! And altogether," she went on
passionately, "it has been too much for me. I have not