' I corrected her. 'It's a relief, isn't it?'

She stared at me for a moment, then went on, 'Yes, I _want_ to tell. But
it hurts, all the same.'

I let her have it her own way; I couldn't press the point. She really
thought it did hurt. I perceived that she had, like so many people, a
confused mind.

'Go on,' I said.

'I must begin a long way back.... You see, before Oliver fell in love
with Jane, he ... he cared a little for me. He really did, Mr. Juke. And
he made me care for him.' Her voice dropped to a whisper.

This was truth. I felt no doubt as to that.

'Then ... then Jane came, and took him away from me. He fell in love with
her ... I thought my heart would break.'

I didn't protest against the phrase, or ask her to explain it, because
she was unhappy. But I wish people wouldn't use it, because I don't know,
and they don't know, what they mean by it. 'I thought I should be very
unhappy,' is that the meaning? No, because they are already that. 'I
thought my heart--the physical organ--would be injuriously affected to
the point of rupture.' No; I do not believe that is what they mean.
Frankly, I do not know. There should be a dictionary of the phrases in
common use.

However, it would have been pedantic and unkind to ask Miss Potter, who
could probably explain no phrases, to explain this.

She went on, crying a little again.

'I couldn't stop caring for him all at once. How could I? I suppose
you'll despise me, Mr. Juke, but I just couldn't help going on loving
him. It's once and for ever with me. Oh, I expect you think it was
shameful of me!'

'Shameful? To love? No, why? It's human nature. You had bad luck,
that's all.'

'Oh, I did.... Well, there it was, you see. He was married to Jane, and I
cared for him so much that I could hardly bear to go to the house and see
them together.... Oh, it wasn't my fault; he _made_ me care, indeed he
did. I'd never have begun for myself, I'm not that sort of girl, I never
was, I know some girls do it, but I never could have. I suppose I'm too
proud or something.'

She paused, but I made no comment. I never comment on the pride of which
I am so often informed by those who possess it.

She resumed, 'Well, it went on and on, and I didn't seem to get to
feel any better about it. And I hated Jane. Oh, I know that was
wicked, of course.'

As she knew it, I again made no comment.

'And sometimes I think I hated _him_, when he thought of nothing but her
and never