worst. The subject on which he wished
to speak with me would have agitated any man, in his state of health. He
consulted me about his daughter's marriage."

Miss Jillgall suddenly turned pale.

"His daughter's marriage?" she repeated. "Oh, you frighten me!"

"Why should I frighten you?"

She seemed to find some difficulty in expressing herself. "I hardly
know how to put it, sir. You will excuse me (won't you?) if I say what
I feel. You have influence--not the sort of influence that finds
places for people who don't deserve them, and gets mentioned in the
newspapers--I only mean influence over Mr. Gracedieu. That's what
frightens me. How do I know--? Oh, dear, I'm asking another question!
Allow me, for once, to be plain and positive. I'm afraid, sir, you have
encouraged the Minister to consent to Helena's marriage."

"Pardon me," I answered, "you mean Eunice's marriage."

"No, sir! Helena."

"No, madam! Eunice."

"What does he mean?" said Miss Jillgall to herself.

I heard her. "This is what I mean," I asserted, in my most positive
manner. "The only subject on which the Minister has consulted me is Miss
Eunice's marriage."

My tone left her no alternative but to believe me. She looked not only
bewildered, but alarmed. "Oh, poor man, has he lost himself in such a
dreadful way as that?" she said to herself. "I daren't believe it!" She
turned to me. "You have been talking with him for some time. Please try
to remember. While Mr. Gracedieu was speaking of Euneece, did he say
nothing of Helena's infamous conduct to her sister?"

Not the slightest hint of any such thing, I assured her, had reached my
ears.

"Then," she cried, "I can tell you what he has forgotten! We kept as
much of that miserable story to ourselves as we could, in mercy to him.
Besides, he was always fondest of Euneece; she would live in his memory
when he had forgotten the other--the wretch, the traitress, the plotter,
the fiend!" Miss Jillgall's good manners slipped, as it were, from
under her; she clinched her fists as a final means of expressing her
sentiments. "The wretched English language isn't half strong enough for
me," she declared with a look of fury.

I took a liberty. "May I ask what Miss Helena has done?" I said.

"_May_ you ask? Oh, Heavens! you must ask, you shall ask. Mr. Governor,
if your eyes are not opened to Helena's true character, I can tell you
what she will do; she will deceive you into taking her part. Do you
think