even bitterer shame--strange, terrible, and
mercifully rare times when her attitude towards Ellen was not of
judgment or of care or of longing, but of envy. Sometimes she would be
overwhelmed with a sense of Ellen's happiness in being loved, even if
the love was unlawful. She had never felt this during the years that her
sister had lived with Alce; the thought of his affection had brought her
nothing but happiness and content. Now, on sinister occasions, she
would find herself thinking of Ellen cherished and spoiled, protected
and caressed, living the life of love--and a desperate longing would
come to her to enjoy what her sister enjoyed, to be kissed and stroked
and made much of and taken care of, to see some man laying schemes and
taking risks for her ... sometimes she felt that she would like to see
all the fullness of her life at Ansdore, all her honour on the Three
Marshes, blown to the winds if only in their stead she could have just
ordinary human love, with or without the law.

Poor Joanna was overwhelmed with horror at herself--sometimes she
thought she must be possessed by a devil. She must be very wicked--in
her heart just as wicked as Ellen. What could she do to cast out this
dumb, tearing spirit?--should she marry one of her admirers on the
Marsh, and trust to his humdrum devotion to satisfy her devouring need?
Even in her despair and panic she knew that she could not do this. It
was love that she must have--the same sort of love that she had given
Martin; that alone could bring her the joys she now envied in her
sister. And love--how shall it be found?--Who shall go out to seek it?

Sec.30

Towards the spring, Ellen wrote again, breaking the silence of several
weeks. She wrote in a different tone--some change had passed over her.
She no longer asked Arthur to divorce her--on the contrary she hinted
her thanks for his magnanimity in not having done so. Evidently she no
longer counted on marrying Sir Harry Trevor, perhaps, even, she did not
wish to. But in one point she had not changed--she was not coming back
to her husband.

"I couldn't bear to live that life again, especially after what's
happened. It's not his fault--it's simply that I'm different. If he
wants his freedom, I suggest that he should let me divorce him--it could
easily be arranged. He should go and see a really good lawyer in
London."

Yes--Ellen spoke truly when she said that she was "different." Her
cavalier dealings with th